Bar Snack

This is one of those nasty brutal stories that either does it for you or it doesn’t. Writing this kind of story takes me to territory I rarely explore. The main character is the kind of man that I would cheerfully eliminate from the genepool and yet I know he has at least some appeal.

Read, enjoy and don’t feel guilty about it afterwards

© Mike Kimera 2011

Sandie was my type of woman: alone, a little drunk, more than a little  overweight and flashing her flabby flesh like a fritzing neon sign on a rundown whorehouse.

She was a fading thirty-something still trying to convince herself that she hadn’t changed since she’d left college.  The dress she was wearing had been designed to hang loosely on a young nymphet, displaying her blossoming womanhood. Stretched over Sandie’s full and just starting to sag curves, it displayed only one thing: desperation.

That, of course, is what had attracted me to her.

Desperate women don’t complain. Desperate women do what they’re told and afterwards,desperate women know in their hearts that it was their fault and that they only got what they deserved.

I’d spotted her leaning against a pillar, scanning the early evening “Bar Rouge” crowd, nursing her drink, pretending she was waiting for someone rather than just hoping for someone. “Bar Rouge” is a trying-to-be-trendy place at the top of a glass office tower. It has great views over the city but everyone here was looking inwards. It’s a pick up place for singles. Sandie looked like she’d been single for a little too long.

I didn’t approach her until I was sure that she was about to give up and go home. When I asked if I could buy her a drink, her face lit up as if Prince Charming had just  turned up with one of her used glass slippers.

I could see in her eyes that she wanted me and that she was more than a little surprised that she might actually get to have me. We both knew I could have done better. Physically I was out of her league.  I wondered how long it had been since she had had anyone she wanted to fuck with her eyes open.

I led her to the bar and helped her perch on a stool that was both too high and too small for her to sit on comfortably. I felt up her arse as I positioned her. She gave me a nervous little smile and said, “I can see I’m going to have to watch myself with you.” It was her only insightful comment of the evening.

I sat on the stool next to her, leaning close, publicly claiming her. I’m sure that if the stool had been wider she would have preened with pleasure. Each time I handed her a drink I touched her, on the wrist, on the arm, on the hip. She pretended not to notice but by the fourth drink she was waiting for my touch.

I fed her drinks for about an hour. She gulped the alcohol down so fast; I hadn’t even had to add anything to her drinks to put her in a more receptive frame of mind.

I asked her where she came from and how long she’d been in the city and listened attentively as she told me about how she was far from home in a job that should have become a career but was turning into a dull routine.

She was isolated, disappointed but still hopeful; a perfect little Bar Snack.

When I asked her what a passionate woman like her was doing alone in a bar on a Friday evening, she leant forward to give me a better view of her Grand Canyon sized cleavage and told me that she was looking for someone who would appreciate what she had to offer.

My smile in response was genuine. Sandie was about to find out that I knew exactly how to show my appreciation of what she had to offer.

I ordered Sandie her final drink of the evening and held it far enough away that she had to turn unsteadily on her stool to reach for it. Her thighs splayed, her dress rode up as far as it was able, disclosing the tightly stretched tops of her thigh-highs. I took the opportunity to slide my hand rapidly up her leg until my fingers tips pushed into the soft indentation at the top of her thigh.

She reached down with her free hand to push me away, smiling but saying, “People will see.”

I kept my hand in place long enough to show that she lacked the strength to move me, then I withdrew my hand, stood up from my stool and took a step away from her, keeping my face impassive.

Anxiety flickered in her eyes. I did nothing to reassure her.

“Don’t go,” she said taking my wrist in both her hands.

The pleading tone in her voice aroused me more than touching her flesh had but I didn’t let that show in my face.

“Please,” she said, guiding my hand back under her dress, “Stay.”

I stepped closer and pushed my hand up further until my fingers were pressed against her panties. Her legs clamped shut, she leant forward so her head was on my shoulder, but she didn’t push me away.

“Let’s find somewhere more private,” I said.

She looked into my face, searching for something. I ran my thumb along her slit. Her eyes closed.

“Now,” I said, pulling my hand from between her thighs and stepping away.

Sandie stood up, shouldering her handbag, ready to follow me. I took her hand and pulled her through the crowd so quickly that it was all she could do to keep her balance on her high-heels.

The emergency exit doors at the back of “Bar Rouge” opened out onto a landing in a bare concrete stairwell. The ambience was public car park meets latrine; just what I was looking for.

I span Sandie in front of me, pinned her against the far wall, forced her legs apart with my foot and clamped my hand on her cunt.

By the time she got her breath back, I had my mouth at her throat and a finger inside her. It wasn’t easy, but then, I wasn’t being gentle.

She didn’t slap me and she didn’t cry out. She just said, in a quiet voice that sounded more disappointed than shocked, “You’re hurting me.”

I kept my finger inside her, rubbed my thumb over her clit, looked her in the eyes and said, “What did you expect, a candle-lit dinner for two? That special moment when our eyes meet and two hearts beat as one? You must have known I was dragging you here to fuck you. Isn’t that what you’ve been offering for the past hour every time you pushed your big tits at me? Isn’t that what you were begging for when you pulled my hand between your legs? So now you’re going to get fucked. You should be happy.”

The expression on Sandie’s face was the best part of my evening. It was as if all the alcohol had suddenly been expelled from her system. I had the real Sandie in front of me now. The one who looked at herself naked in the mirror each morning and knew exactly what she was worth. The one who’d given up on Prince Charming and was now searching for Mr Not Too Bad Most Of The Time. The one who knew that she’d met a predator and offered herself up on a plate.

There was a moment when I thought that she might cry or scream and I’d have to let her go. Then something changed in her eyes and I knew she’d reached her decision.

“You don’t have to hurt me,” she said keeping eye contact as she reached down with one hand to search for my erection. “I do want you. Really I do. Let me show you.”

She stretched upwards and kissed me. I slipped my wet finger out of her and slid my hand up to squeeze her breast. Sandie traced the line of my erection through my trousers and pushed her tongue into my mouth to show me her enthusiasm.

I put both hands on her breasts and pushed her back against the wall.

“That’s not where I want your mouth,” I said.

Sandie made her way to her knees without much grace. I unzipped and left my erection bobbing in front of her face. She reached out to grab it but I swatted her hand away.

“Just your mouth.”

She looked up at me with wide eyes but managed a smile before she took the tip of my cock into her mouth.

I stroked her face gently and smiled at her. She put a little more effort in, using her tongue, sucking in her cheeks. No one could accuse her of not trying.

When I’d had enough, I told her stop. She looked disappointed. Maybe she’d thought a quick blowjob was all I was looking for.

I helped her to her feet like a gentleman and led her to the banister at the top of the stairwell.

“Lean over it, spread your legs, and hold on. You’re about to get a fucking you won’t forget.”

That much at least I was sure was true.

I ripped off Sandie’s panties and put them in my pocket. Her cunt was moist rather than wet but I got in without too much effort and with only the most muted of grunts from her.

Finesse would have been wasted in the circumstances so I concentrated on speed and power, slamming Sandie against the banisters hard enough to make them rattle. Sandie didn’t bother faking an orgasm. It seemed to be all she could do to catch her breath.

I love taking women from behind. I found the sight of Sandie bent double, braced for impact absolutely irresistible.

A couple of minutes in, I knew I was almost done. Sandie must have sensed it too. She looked back at me over her shoulder and said, “Please don’t come inside me.”

I liked the please.

I stood still, hilt deep inside her and asked the obvious question: “So, Sandie, tell me where you want me to dump my cum.”

Sandie tried to find the right answer in my face. I raised an eyebrow and gave her another thrust.

“On my face?” she said, hesitantly.

Perfect. I knew she’d always remember saying that, begging a stranger to come on her face.

I laughed.

“I like this view better,” I said, “I’ll come on your fat arse. Hold it open for me.”

Sandie pulled her arse cheeks apart like a good little whore and waited for my cum to run down her legs as I tossed off over her.

“Don’t stand up yet,” I said.

I used my iPhone to take a picture of my cum sliding down Sandie’s arse cheek, just to the right of her gaping cunt.

“What are doing?” Sandie said, straightening up.

“Making a little souvenir of our evening together.” I showed her the picture on my phone. “If you give me your number I’ll send you a copy.”

Sandie stared at me.

“You are a sick bastard.”

“And what does that make you, Sandie. Think about that.”

I fished three twenties out of my wallet and offered them to her.

“Taxi money?” I said.

“Fuck off.”

“Been there, done that. Have a good evening, Sandie. It was a pleasure fucking you.”

I thought that was a pretty cool exit line. I’d have to remember that one.

I found a cab as soon as I hit street level.  As we pulled away from the curb, the cabbie grinned at me and said, “You smell like you’ve had a good night, mate.” I took a deep breath and realized that, in the confines of the cab, the just-fucked smell was impossible to miss. I grinned back at the cabbie, pulled Sandie’s panties from my pocket and held them up for him to see.

Before I could say anything, my iPhone rang.

“Hi, babe,” I said, “Yeah, I know, I’m late.  I had to take some clients for a drink after the meeting. No I don’t need food. I just had a bar snack. Did I miss the kids? I’ll make it up to you. I’m gonna hit the shower as soon as I get home. When I’m done, I want to find you in the bedroom wearing nothing but thigh-highs, heels, a little lube and a smile. No you may not start without me. Nor unless you want a spanking. You’re right, it might be worth it. Now go and get ready, I’ll be home in a few.”

I closed the call. The cabby made eye contact with me in the mirror.

“You lead a bloody charmed life, mate.”

“You’re so right,” I said and settled back into my seat to flick through the photos on my iPhone.

SCAR – Chapter 1

This is a dark piece that won’t be to everyone’s taste. If you want something jolly, try a different story

SCAR
© Mike Kimera 2011 All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

London 2001

-1-

The moment I come in the whore’s mouth my self-disgust takes over. She is still sucking my not yet limp dick. On her knees, looking up at me with her soft brown eyes, naked apart from the too-short school skirt that I asked her to wear; she is a perfect picture of submissive beauty. She calls herself Kyoko and claims to be nineteen years old and studying in London. This is the fifth time that I’ve paid £300 to use her for an hour. I looked up her name on the web. It’s the kind of thing I do. It means mirror. I doubt that she selected it by accident.

Unlike English whores, who control you from the start with their back massages and their rules about what costs extra and what can’t be done at all, Kyoko is completely compliant; mine to use however I wish.

Do you know how frightening that thought is? How it corrodes my soul?

I have shown restraint today. I promised myself I would. No bonds. No pain. Just my hands on the back of her head, holding her in place while I pushed fast and hard into her mouth.

Yet, even now, with my tension released, I know that it was not enough. I want to see that flawless skin bruised and torn. I want to annihilate her with my lust. I want to wrench some involuntary, pain-driven moan from her that acknowledges what we are really doing here. Who I really am.

Instead, I say, “Enough,” and immediately she sits back on her heels, hands demurely placed on her thighs.

We still have fifteen minutes left but I can’t bear it any more. Without a word, I go to the en suite and clean myself.

When I return she is still kneeling, waiting. I have a sudden image of slapping that beautiful calm face, hitting her until the bones break.

As I touch the door handle, she says politely, “Good bye, Mr. Jackson. Please return soon.” I leave without turning back.

Do you believe in Hell? I do; I live there.

A Jesuit once taught me that Hell is the absence of grace. I didn’t understand him at the time; didn’t know the sorrow that the loss of grace can bring to us, the damaged ones.

I take a taxi back from Mayfair to Hampstead. The driver doesn’t attempt conversation. It must be something in my demeanour. Progress through the traffic-clogged streets is slow, even in mid-afternoon. I scan the faces of the pedestrians we pass, looking for the lost and the damaged. Misery loves company.

I close the door behind me in my ridiculously over-priced house in Flask Walk and let myself slump against it. I catch sight of myself in the mirror of the incredibly ugly Edwardian umbrella stand; the first and only piece of furniture Nina bought for the house. I see a tall pale man in his late thirties; close-cropped black hair turning silver at the temples. He is dressed in a fashionably casual lilac shirt, open at the neck, long black coat, black dress pants, and handmade ankle-length boots.

“I am the very model of a modern media general,” I sing to myself, wondering what Gilbert and Sullivan would have made of London’s media elite in this, the first year of the new Millennium.

I step closer to the mirror, staring into my own eyes. It’s said that vampires have no reflection because they have lost their souls. I was taught that the eye is the window to the soul. I try to look through that window, moving past the long black lashes and the blue iris, to the darkness of the pupil. I wait. If this were a movie, my eyes would glow a sickly electric green at this point to show the evil within. I see nothing but endless darkness. It seems appropriate.

I use the shower downstairs. I don’t use the en suite bathroom any more, not since Nina’s death. Friends are surprised that I stayed here. I will never leave. I need that pebble in my shoe.

Naked, glass of whisky in my hand, I sit before my computer, browsing my e-mail, trying to find something in my work that I still care about.

There is some good news. Channel 4 want to develop the documentary series idea that I pitched to them last week. It’s called “Ex and Why?” We pick a person, we call them subjects, it sounds more scientific, and then gather together their ex-spouses and lovers. We get the exs to build a profile of the subject on camera: pet hates, what they were like in bed, how it ended. We’ll intercut the subject’s own observations about their ex’s, encouraging them to be colourful and funny. At the end, we will play the subject the tape and film their reaction. The programme will be full of pain and recrimination and gratuitous, voyeuristic sex. The ratings should be huge. We will be able to sell the format across Europe, maybe even to the USA on cable. I find myself depressed that one of our worst ideas should be so readily accepted. The boys from “Media Mangle Productions” have done it again.

Enough work. I go to the one of the free porn listings and start opening windows showing every sexual act known to man. The more often I do this, the more extreme the site has to be to make my cock stir.

I find a torture site. Once I would have turned away, wondering why some people like looking at this stuff. Now, as I click on the thumbnails, I find I am studying the photos to see which are real and which are fake. I open a set of pictures sent in by amateurs. A woman in her twenties, with soft curves, a slightly heavy build and an innocent face, is having her breasts beaten with the edge of a steel ruler. I find myself hoping that this is fake, although I can see that it is not. I download the picture set.

Time for the chatroom now. On the web this past year, I have been going under the name of Hollowman. I chat, post stories, occasionally exchange e-mail, but nothing lasts very long. The room I use is called “The Pit”. There are no taboos here. The system says that there are 128 users. Jesus Christ, where do they all come from?

I watch the moronic chat and wait. Sometimes I see a name I want to explore. Mostly I let others approach me. Someone breaks etiquette by going straight to private message. I like that. The whois/ command shows me the person is female and dialled in from the UK. Her name is SCAR.

SCAR: I know what you want

SCAR: I know what you need.

I remain silent

SCAR: I know the termites that hollowed out your soul.

Hollowman: What do you mean?

SCAR: Guilt and fear laid their eggs in you and their offspring left you hollow

Interesting. Most people assume I lifted the name from the movie “Hollow Man” last year’s remake of “The Invisible Man”. They think I’m playing six degrees of Kevin Bacon. I decide to see what game Scar wants to play

Hollowman: So what do I need? What do I want?

SCAR: Me

Hollowman: I don’t know you

SCAR: But I know you. I’ve read every twisted story you’ve posted.

Hollowman: Why are you called SCAR?

SCAR: Guess 🙂

Hollowman: What do you want?

SCAR: I want you to torture me.

SCAR: I want you to kill me.

This was not the way it normally went. Scar has my full attention. My cock is stiff. I wait.

SCAR: That made you hard didn’t it

SCAR: We will meet. I will let you do anything. Anything at all. Then you will kill me

Hollowman: Why should I kill you?

SCAR: You won’t be able to stop yourself.

I wonder if that was true. My mind plays detailed scenes of hurt and pain. I roll back my foreskin and release the musky reek of my desire.

SCAR: You’re touching yourself

SCAR: I like that

SCAR: I want your cock to trace my scars.

I groan, feeling the insensate scar tissue brush against my glans, following the lines of deadened flesh.

SCAR: I’m going now

SCAR: One last thing

SCAR: I know what happened to your wife

Nina’s face flashes before my eyes as my cock belches cum onto my thighs. By the time I realise what Scar had said and what it meant, she was gone.

Was that a cheap shot or does she really know? Has she found out who I am? I sit up in the chair, staring at the screen, reading the last line again and again.

If she does know, what then? I should be afraid, angry, filled with adrenalin; instead, I am calm, as if I had been waiting for this all along.

A little envelope appears on my taskbar to tell me that new mail has arrived. I open it, knowing it will be from her. It’s not hard to find my address, it’s on every story I post.

From: ficticious-address@yahoo.co.uk

To: hollowman@hotmail.com

Subject: enj 🙂 y

Think of me as you browse these.

Don’t waste time tracing this address; it’s a one- off.

SCAR

She has sent me urls: a medical site looking at the treatment of scars; a site condemning the practice in rural India of using battery acid to scar the faces of women who reject you; a site on female circumcision; a site on mastectomy.

All of them with pictures.

I go through every site, slowly, compulsively. The images burn into my memory.

“I know what you want. I know what you need,” she’d said. I wonder if she is right.

My legs ache from sitting in the chair too long. The central heating has switched off for the night. I drag myself to bed. I know when I sleep I will dream of scars.

Kirsten’s First Morning At The Sanctuary

This little piece is set in a world of Doms who have castles and Subs who seek only to be shaped by their Master. Escapist but fun if you’re in that frame of mind. Enjoy.

 

(c) Mike Kimera 2001

As the sun rises I focus my attention on the strands of silver in Madam Chen’s jet-black braid. She is small wiry woman with strong hands, a sharply angled face that seldom shows any emotion other than anger or contempt. She is standing between Kirsten’s legs, bending over her naked body like a predator readying for a kill.

Chen’s braid is a calculated provocation: it looks so controlled, so deferential, but speaks of sex and passionate restraint. Every man she passes watches that tightly woven braid bounce off her arse and feels his cock stir in anticipation.

I have imagined wrapping that braid around my fist and forcing her impassive face further down my cock until involuntary tears flow, or using it to bind her hands behind her back and pulling on it like a leash as I push deeper into her arse. I have imagined it, but so far I have held back. Chen is valuable because she is fierce and fearless. She believes herself protected and she has been trained to act without pity or remorse. That is one reason why we are all here.

“ ‘Feng Shui’ combines the five elements: Earth, Metal, Wood, Water and Fire to produce a harmonious alignment.” Madam Chen explains.

She makes the words sound like a threat and in a way they are.

Unfortunately Kirsten is not listening. She is letting herself be distracted by Chen’s assistants, two teenage girls, who are releasing Kirsten’s arms and legs from the cuffs that I used to bind her to the leather bench that she slept on last night.

The first night in The Sanctuary is always spent that way.

The girls are stroking Kirsten’s wrists and ankles, helping the blood to flow. The younger of the two brushes her breast against the back of Kirsten’s hand with each stoke of the wrist. Even from across the room, I can see the girl’s erect nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her cotton shift.

Instead of listening to Madam Chen, Kirsten turns to smile at the girl. The girl looks away but leans further forward against Kirsten’s hand.

Madam Chen takes hold of Kirsten’s chin firmly with her finger and thumb, pulling Kirsten up into a sitting position, bringing their faces close together. Fear washes across Kirsten’s face as she looks up into Madam Chen’s unsmiling face and feels Madam’s sharp fingernails press into her cheeks. Kirsten’s eyes flick quickly towards me, hoping I will intervene.

“Look at me! You have not yet earned the right to look at your Master.”

Madam Chen’s voice betrays the hatred she feels for the flesh she holds. Young flesh, privileged flesh, flesh entitled to freedom and choosing to be enslaved.

I have promised Kirsten that she will not be marked without her consent, but it is obvious to both of us that Chen would like to rake Kirsten’s flawless skin. My imagination flashes me an image of Kirsten’s blood flowing over Chen’s pale nails as they rend her flesh. Kirsten trembles. My cock stiffens. Madam Chen smiles. It is not a reassuring smile.

“Today you will be used according to the principles of Feng Shui. Each time harmony is achieved you will be permitted to come. If you come without permission, you will be punished.”

Madam Chen lets go of Kirsten’s chin; steps back and runs her gaze across Kirsten’s naked body.

“I suspect you will be punished often. I look forward to it.”

It is unusual for Madam to be so provoked. She was born at The Sanctuary, was schooled in our ways. The fact that, instead of becoming part of our breeding pool, or being traded to another House, she has become a Madam is a tribute to her control, her aggression and her complete ruthlessness.

Perhaps it is time to remind Chen that the power she has been given can be taken away? Yet that would a waste and finding her successor would be a chore. Besides, the fact that Chen’s armoured emotions are so easily pierced reinforces my judgement that Kirsten is extraordinary.

Ever since she surrendered herself into my care, with her parents consent, on her eighteenth birthday, I have been nurturing her libido, ensuring she has come, with my permission, at least five times a day, often more. Her body now hums with a hunger that must be fed well and often.

I have being stoking that hunger since we set out for the Sanctuary yesterday. She was given no opportunity to touch herself on the journey. When we arrived, I stripped her and tied her to the tightly to the bench, positioning her with her head facing away from my bed and with her cunt spread and open to my sight.

They brought me a woman, ripe and soft, with pale flesh for my whip to write upon. It took me an hour to bring her to climax. Kirsten could hear her but not see her. Each time the woman moaned I could see Kirsten’s arse clench, showing how much she wanted to be the one feeling the whip’s biting kiss. By the time the woman was carried from the room, Kirsten’s cunt lips were slick and swollen.

In honour of her discipline in staying silence I decided to reward Kirsten. I stood between her legs, not touching her, relieving the aching hardness of my cock. When my cum splashed her belly, pooling in her navel, Kirsten groaned and pressed against her bonds. I knew what she wanted.

“Tomorrow” I said as I put out the light.

Madam Chen has noticed the dried sperm on Kirsten’s belly. It makes Kirsten’s smooth skin pucker slightly, like a scar. Chen scrapes at it, not gently, with one nail.

“Open her” Madam Chen says to the girl massaging Kirsten’s ankles.

She places her face an inch or less from Kirsten’s cunt and inspects every inch.

“Clean her. Get rid of all this hair. I want her smooth and oiled. Don’t let her come.”

“Yes, Madam Chen,” both girls say together.

Madam Chen strides out of the room, braid bouncing off her buttocks. As the door closes all three girls visibly relax.

“What is your name?” Kirsten asks the younger of the two girls. The girl shakes her head and refuses to look at Kirsten.

“Please tell me your name.”

The slap the older girl administers, catches Kirsten completely by surprise. The older girl places one finger across her lips signalling for Kirsten to be silent. The younger girl mimics the action but brings the finger from her lips to Kirsten’s and lets her eyes smile.

Without needing to speak to one another the girls lift Kirsten, taking one arm each and placing it behind their neck, supporting her under the armpits. Kirsten is still unsteady on her feet and seems glad of their support.

As they move with her towards the shower room, I step in front of Kirsten. The girls pause. I am fully dressed, and have cup of tea in my hands. I flick my gaze across Kirsten, reminding her of her nakedness, making her aware that her breasts are touching the girls who carry her. Her nipples harden and to my surprise she blushes. I prize that blush more than the sunrise I have just witnessed from the window of this chamber.

The shower room is tiled from floor to ceiling. At first sight it looks as if the shower curtain is missing, until the eye is drawn to the cuffs hanging from what is not, after all, a shower-rail. The girls raise Kirsten’s arms above her head and fasten them, wide apart, on the rail, then they spread her legs and tie them to rings set in the tiled floor.

I move forward and push my fingers through Kirsten’s hair. I keep her hair short and boyish, it’s easier to maintain and it provides a vivid contrast to her full figure. Kirsten tries to kiss my arm but I stop her with a look. When I hold up the blacked-out swimming goggles, she bows her head. With a practiced motion, I deprive her of her sight.

I step to one side so that I can read Kirsten’s body language. She tenses as she waits. Then the water hits her. She winces as it moves from too hot to too cold and then relaxes as the girls massage her with a high-pressure spray from in front and behind.

They start at her shoulders and work their way down, as if they were washing a car, then move closer, bringing the spray up between her legs from both directions. Kirsten tries to spread wider, welcoming the sensation, trying to dance on the water, seeking stimulation and release.

The water stops. There is silence.

Kirsten cocks her head to listen, seems momentarily puzzled by a sound that is familiar but which she can’t place.

When the shaving foam hits her mound she stands very still, letting the girls spread it with their fingers. She bites her lip; I can almost feel her anxiety as she waits for a sharp blade to move across her tender skin.

The finger pushing into her anus catches her by surprise. The younger girl is smearing lube with fast, light touches, inside and out. The nozzle slips into Kirsten easily, but the warm water that follows has enough pressure behind it to make her moan. She pushes forward, away from the assault on her rear, only to encounter the caress of the razor as it shears her.

I watch as the wisps of curly hair are swept away and her pink skin emerges looking freshly scrubbed.

Kirsten relaxes her leg muscles and lets herself hang from the bar above her head. The older girl pushes a second nozzle into Kirsten, this time into her cunt, flooding her with the scent of strawberries.

Kirsten rise onto tiptoe but there is nothing she can do to free herself from the dual force of the liquids sliding into her. When the nozzles are pulled from her simultaneously she sighs with pleasure. Watching her from the side I picture her as the water nymph statue at the centre of some Seventeenth Century fountain.

Starting at her shoulders, in front and behind, with the practised co-ordination of a dance, the girls work an oil into Kirsten’s skin, until every inch of her smells of French Vanilla. It is slow thorough work, interrupted three times to prevent her from reaching a climax. Finally it is done. Kirsten gleams in the early morning sunlight.

“Thank you,” she murmurs when the goggles are removed, but the erotic haze she had surrounded herself with is immediately dispersed when she sees that it is Madam Chen who has given her back her sight.

Both girls are kneeling beside Madam Chen, eyes downcast, as she inspects their work.

Her eyes are on Kirsten’s as she tests the smoothness of the shave with the ball of her thumb. She leans closer and pushes two fingers into Kirsten’s cunt and one into her arse. Despite herself, Kirsten moans.

Chen reaches up until her mouth is close to Kirsten’s, fingers still inside her. Just when Kirsten is sure she will be kissed, when she’s starting to lean into it, Chen’s mouth forms, but does not speak, the word SLUT and she removes her fingers with painful speed.

Madam Chen holds her fingers under her nose as Kirsten settles back onto the soles of her feet.

“You have done well girls. You will be rewarded. Put the collar on her and lead her to the Courtyard.”

Madam Chen strides out of the room to prepare Kirsten’s first ordeal.

For a moment, standing between the two kneeling girls whose efforts have made her skin gleam, Kirsten looks so lost and bereft that my heart aches for her.

The girls look at me, waiting for me to provide them with the collar that will show Kirsten’s status here. I move towards her, signalling for them to remain kneeling at her feet.

“Kirsten,” I say, resting the palm of my hand against her face and feeling my pulse race at the restoration of that contact, “are you ready to accept your collar from me?”

Her dark eyes focus on me, like searchlights exploring my soul. She turns her head into my hand and kisses my palm. Her resolve has returned. The strength and capacity for passion that first attracted me to her are apparent in the quiet confidence with which she says, “I am ready”.

The collar is a simple thing: strong black leather trimmed with silver at the edges; and with four matt black D rings evenly spaced at front back and sides. My initials are carved into the leather on either side of the front D ring. The silver edging is more than decorative. It tells everyone in The Sanctury who sees it that Kirsten has chosen a path of self-exploration; the initials show that she is under my protection.

I attach a leash to the collar. Kirsten makes to follow me.

“Not yet, Kirsten,” I say. “First you must reward these girls for a job so well done.”

Kirsten looks confused. She is not sure what I want.

I make a movement with my hands. The girls respond as they have been trained to do and fall forward with their small arses in the air.

“Kneel and finger then to climax, Kirsten.”

I watch for several minutes as Kirsten works with a hand inside each girl. As their passion rises, I remind her that she must not come.

My cock is hard. I free it from my clothes and push the head into Kirsten’s mouth. She is sucking on it, her cheek s concave with the effort, when the girls come on her fingers one after the other.

I pull back from Kirsten, and reward each girl with some of my semen on their foreheads.

Standing, I pull on Kirsten’s leash, then turn my back on her and lead her out into the courtyard.

Naughty But Nice?

This started life as a 500 word add on to a post on Oh Get A Grip. I’ve developed it a little with the help of the folks in the Erotic Readers and Writers Association.

It is a dark little thing that is not at all nice and goes way beyond naughty.

Enjoy

© Mike Kimera 2010

I shouldn’t have been hard but I was. After the Valentine’s night I’d had, any normal man would’ve wanted to be deeply asleep. I’ve never thought of myself as a normal man and what I wanted was to be deeply inside Christine.

Darkness greeted me as I pushed into Christine’s apartment. The blinds
were down, blocking out even the moonlight.

Before I could reach the switch, Christine had me pushed back against
the front door. I could feel her nakedness as she pressed into me, clamping her thighs around one of my legs.

“Well,” she said, “did she let you do it?”

There was so much hunger and malice in her voice that for a moment I
pictured huge fangs ripping at my throat.

“No. She didn’t let me.”

The hand that had been stroking the length of my erection through my
trousers suddenly grasped me hard enough to hurt.

“No?”

I laughed.

“She didn’t let me. She begged me.”

“Sally begged you to fuck her arse?”

“On all fours, arse in the air, looking back at me over her shoulder.”

“Good boy,” she said, unzipping me and roughly yanking my erection out
where she could get at it. “You followed my instructions?”

“No condom. No shower afterwards. Left as soon as she fell asleep. Yes ma’am.”

Christine nodded her head slightly, acknowledging my obedience while failing to detect the mild mockery in my voice.

“I can smell her stink on you.”

She bit my neck and worked my cock with her hand.

“I have to taste it.”

Christine slid down my body, took me into her mouth and sucked hard.

Getting a blow job from Christine always feels risky, not just because of the semi-public places that she often chooses to deliver them in, but because she worries at my cock like a dog with a bone, owning it so completely that it seems possible that she might never give it back.

Usually, Christine would take me deep in her mouth. She was proud of her ability to swallow me whole. She knew the symbolism wasn’t lost on either of us. This time she was focused on tracking down any hint of Sally’s scent on my sex, so she worked me with her tongue, glazing me with tremendous skill.

Sally gave blow jobs like she’d only just discovered they existed. She
delighted in how hard they made me. She would ask me if I preferred it like this or like this and how did it feel when she flicked the tip of her tongue just like that?. She’s the only woman I’d ever met who could laugh and fellate at the same time.

Sally was nice.

I of course am not.

“The Valentine’s gift worked a charm,” I said.

I’d been working my way into Sally’s affections for months. Valentine’s day was the deadline I’d set myself for getting her to give me her arse.

I’d brought Sally the perfect Valentine’s gift, something that was literally ‘Naughty But Nice’.

The image of it blossomed in my mind: a camisole and panties in
a truly dreadful red silk with white lettering.

I’d shown it to Christine before I left for the date.

“Little Sally’s nipples pushed through ‘Naughty’,” I said.

“Her clit was a prominent ridge beneath the ‘I’ in ‘Nice’. I’ve seldom
seen anyone who wanted it that badly. Other than you, of course.”

Christine stood, wrapped one ballet-trained leg around my hip and fed
my cock into her wet cunt.

“And did you fuck her badly?” she said, grinding against me.

“I bound her wrists with my tie, pulled her to the floor, ripped off her ‘Nice’ panties, pushed them into her mouth and set to work giving her the rimming of her life.”

“Poor little Sally. You must have driven the frigid little bitch wild.”

So much hate for sweet little Sally. If I were inclined to commit psychology, I would speculate that hate like that has its roots in envy.

But I hadn’t come here to swap deep thoughts. I’d come to collect on a debt. It was time to get on with it.

I took hold of Christine’s chin and made her look me in the eye.

“I told you I could,” I said.

Christine stopped grinding.

“Yes, you did,” she said.

For the first time since I’d pushed through her unlocked door that evening, it seemed to occur to her that she might not be the one in charge of the situation.

I smiled at her. I let go of her chin and cupped her firm little arse cheeks in my hands.

“So I won my bet. I drilled your too-nice-to-be-true little sister’s arse. Do I get my reward?”

“Do you want it?”

I pressed my thumb against her anus. She grimaced and twisted away. Inside her my cock hardened just a little.

“It’s Valentine’s night. What could be better that having anal sex with two sisters on the one night?”

I’d done just about everything imaginable to Christine but she wouldn’t let me sodomise her. She said it wasn’t something that she wanted to do.

That of course, just made me want it more.

I’d used Christine’s hatred of Sally to create the opportunity for a wager: I’d get Christine’s arse if I could take Sally’s first.

Christine pushed my hands away from her arse, pulled my cock out of her but but kept hold of it.

“You know I don’t want to do this, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But you want me to do it anyway.”

“A bet’s a bet,” I said.

There was a pause, then Christine squeezed my cock and said, “You are
not a nice man,”

“No,” I said, “I’m not.”

Pressing her breasts against my chest and rubbing my sex against her belly, Christine said, “You can have me until dawn. You have to leave
before my husband gets back tomorrow. You have to use a condom and if
you call me Sally I will castrate you.”

Grinning, I let Christine lead me by the cock to her husband’s bed.

Amy Goes To College: Chapter 2 Amy Plans Revenge

Amy Goes to College

Chapter 2: Amy Plans Revenge

(c) Mike Kimera 2004

To: ti8nwett@bigfoot.com

From: amyable@FckU.com

Subject: How to solve a problem with Maria.

Hey Sis,

Great news, I’ve managed to screw Dean Julien Ward. Well, not really screw him, not yet anways, but his ass is mine. Which is only fair given the bruises he left of my ass when I got busted for smoking pot. Tonight I’m gonna make him pay for that.

You should see this guy: think Giles from Buffy –scrawny, old, snotty voice, no fashion sense – then add a cold hunger in the eyes. He’s into sex but it’s in some twisted Brit way that’s all controlled and condescending.

I knew as soon as I got into his office that he’d hit on me. A man like him probably doesn’t get fucked often unless he pays for it. And I’d have been fine with that. I like it here at Desert U. It’s not the world’s greatest college but at least they let me in. After that thing with the fire at my last college I thought no-one would take me. So I thought, “If I have to fuck devil-Giles to stay in school, hey I’ll just waggle my ass and get him off as quick as I can.”

Of course it didn’t go down like that. Friend Julien likes games. He leaves the handcuffs on and he gets me to call him sir, he even asks my permission before he lays into me.

The spanking shit was a surprise. I’d never been spanked before. You should try it – or have you tried it already? The whole of the next day I couldn’t stop thinking about his hand stinging my ass, his cock, not that long but plenty thick, pressing into me. All that heat and hardness… and pain. My ass was hurt but the pain was making me wet.

As you know I’ve always enjoyed sex. But I’ve enjoyed it like a sport I was good at or a game I could win. The spanking was different. It produced basic, gut churning lust. I wanted his cock and I wanted him to hurt me. I found myself wanting to have him slap my face with his cock as I knelt in front of him. But I also wanted him to lose himself to it. I wanted to see him sweat. I wanted to know he needed it as badly as me.

At the end of the spanking I was bent over, handcuffed, bare- assed, and wet enough to fuck a baseball bat and the bastard unlocked the handcuffs, called in his frumpy secretary and threw me out without even giving me a decent fuck.

It was like he was laughing at me. Like I wasn’t good enough to have his cock in me. Like he was in charge and I was just a toy. I ran out of his office full of anger and frustration. I wanted to go to my room, lie on my bed and frig myself unconscious but laying down wasn’t an option and by the time I got home my lust had become a hunger for revenge. No one turns me on and then just kicks me out. I decided I was going to fuck him and then break him.

That next day he walked past me in the corridor. I was leaning with my back against the wall. I opened my legs as I saw him and pushed my books up under my breasts. I made eye contact and then looked at his crotch, but he ignored me. Walked by as if I didn’t exist. I decided that that had to change. He had his guard is up against me, smug bastard. I needed to get past it to get to his cock. I needed a lever… or a Trojan horse. By the end of the day I’d found the solution: I’d get to Ward using Maria.

Maria is a Latino, just under 5′ tall, small breasts topped with coffee colored nipples, dark eyes, waist length black hair. She’s a local, still living at home with mummy and daddy; still dressing like she’s in high school – I bet her mom picks her clothes. Her best feature is her mouth. Her lips always look swollen and moist as if she’s just finished sucking cock. Except she doesn’t suck cock. Her preference is for pussy, my pussy in particular. She’d been trying to get a lick of my pussy for weeks. I’ve had girlfriends before – as you know very well J. A girl’s tongue on my clit is a welcome change, but Maria’s not in my social circle so I wasn’t interested.

Last week Maria met me coming out of a bar neither of us was supposed to go near. She was drunk and alone and as soon as she saw me her nipples saluted. I took her back to my car. As I put her in the back seat she made a grab for me.

She kissed me with those large lips, putting her tongue in my mouth. “I love you,” she said.

I let the kiss linger and then pushed her away saying, “Get off me, bitch”.

She caught hold of my arm and pulled my hand between her legs to her wet pussy.

“Please, Amy. I’ll do anything,” she said.

Her cunt was soaked. She was starting to turn me on. I pushed her back down on the seat, making sure no one could see us. I lay down on her full length. My tits pushing up against her. Her thigh trying to dry hump me between my legs.

I held her hands above her head and said, “Do you want my pussy, Maria? Do you want your tongue up my cunt?” She pushed against me but couldn’t move.

“Yes” she breathed, “God yes”.

“Well you’ll have to earn it you little lesbian slut”

That started to sober her up. She didn’t like that so much.

“If you want my pussy” I said, “I want to see this shaved and smooth.” I put my hand on her cunt and pushed two fingers in while still holding her hands above her head “and I want this pierced.”

I brought my hand out of her pussy and pushed it into her mouth, grabbing hold of her tongue. I liked the thought of a hard little stud in her tongue flicking against my clit.

Then I raped her mouth with my tongue. I was hot now and I wanted a fuck. She’d warmed me up nicely for the meeting with my boyfriend’s father at the Lazy O Motel that I’d been on my way to. It was time to go.

“OK slut, out of my car,” I said and dragged her ass out of there. As I drove off she was still on the ground in the parking lot with her hand buried in her panties.

I thought no more about it then, the day after Dean Shaw’s little bondage session, Maria was there when I went for my session in the gym. After the session, Maria followed me into the showers. She had the sense not to stand next to me but she let me see that her pussy was now smooth and hairless. With her slight figure it made her look very young and vulnerable. Her clit also looked larger.

I remembered that Maria had been out for a couple of days. I’d heard from the other girls that she’d had a major row with her father. I wondered if it was because she’d had her tongue pierced. I figured it was time to check her out. If she was pierced then she’d help me nail Ward.

I made sure I was out of the locker room before Maria was. I waited in the corridor and grabbed her wrist when she walked by. The stupid bitch actually smiled at me, delighted at the attention. I didn’t speak to her I just dragged her round the corner into one of the empty music rehearsal rooms. The soundproofing in these rooms makes them a favourite spot for a lunchtime fuck. I’d gotten the janitor to give me a key (you can guess how and no I didn’t swallow).

Alone with Maria in the room I pushed her up against the wall and said, “Show me.”

Without taking her eyes off mine she stuck out her tongue which was now decorated with a shiny silver stud. “And the rest,” I said.

She lifted her skirt and pushed down her panties to show her smooth pussy again. I put my hand on her mound and kissed her on the lips. Her nipples stood out like rivets.

“You’ve been a good slut so far, Maria, and tonight you get your reward.”

She smiled and tried to reach for me. I grabbed her by the cunt and slammed her ass back against the wall.

“Wait ’til I tell you,” I said “You’re going to help me get the man who did this to my ass.”

I took off my panties and showed her the bruising. She looked sorry for me – how touching – and I let her trace the bruises with her hand. Actually it felt good.

I decided to try out that stud of hers. I sat on one the chairs, opened my legs and had her kneel before me.

“Show me how you use that tongue, slut and I’ll tell you what we’re going to do”

She thanked me and set about licking my clit and cunt with the kind of skill that only comes from lots of practice. The girl was good and the stud would really help get me off.

I told her that tonight she would go to the Dean’s office just as his prim and proper secretary was leaving. She was to make sure the secretary saw her go in. Once inside she would ask for counselling about her father’s reaction to her stud. When she heard the secretary leave she would show the stud to the Dean and explain that her boyfriend made her get it for oral sex. She’d say he made her shave her pussy too and would take off her panties. If the Dean came on to her she was to suck his cock (not an idea she was keen on) if not she was to rip her clothing and throw herself on him. I would then enter.

With perfect timing I came on her face when her instructions were complete. She wanted me to finger her. I told her she hadn’t earned it yet but that I did have a present for her. I reached into my bag and pulled out a banana that I’d intended to have for lunch.

“Here, fuck yourself with this while I watch.”

If she did it I would know the slut was in my power. That banana disappeared inside her so far and so fast that it took my breath away. When she came I was glad the room was soundproof.

The plan worked well. The secretary saw Maria go in. Ten minutes later I entered on cue and found Maria on the floor (where Dean Ward had just thrown her – too cautious to get her to suck his cock). Her panties were off, her clothes were ripped, and his cock was hanging from his open fly. Maria does good work with the right incentives.

FLASH the camera goes off.

I explained to the Dean that I’d tell everyone he made Maria shave and get a stud and that I came along because she said she thought he would try to rape her once he got bored with her mouth.

You should have seen his face: outrage, disbelief, anger. He actually looked dangerous. Then I offered him a way out.

“Of course” I said “It doesn’t have to be that way. Not if you decide to take both of us with you to the Lazy O Motel.”

His cock and his eyes both got hard then. For a moment I wondered if he would just rape us. Then he relaxed and leant back against his desk, his cock still sticking out of his pants. He picked up Maria’s panties and threw them at her.

“Tomorrow. Eight o’clock. Now I want you and your slut out of my office.”

Maria scrambled over to me. She was frightened. She looks sexy when she’s frightened. My pussy was getting damp. I decided to sit on her face before I sent her home. It might even be fun to make her come. It would be good to keep her grateful; I wasn’t done with her yet.

“See you tomorrow, Prof,” I said, putting my arm around Maria. “Time for me to find out how wet you’ve made my little slut.”

I slide two fingers into Maria. She blushed but she didn’t move away, instead she pressed herself against me as I worked her. I could see it was taking all of Julien’s control not to cross the room and fuck us. I wouldn’t let him of course. I wanted to make him wait first. I wanted him to feel used.

I pulled my fingers out of Maria. She mewled in protest, already having forgotten that she was being fingered in public. I silenced her by pushing my wet fingers into her mouth, holding them high so that she’d have to stretch to suck them. I want Ward to see her tongue stud in action.

“See what you missed when you wouldn’t let her suck you, Prof?”

“I want you and your sextoy out of my office,” he said. His tone was hard and unforgiving. But his cock was harder. I swear it shivered as he spoke. He’d be jacking off as soon as we left the room.

“I can see you want us, Prof. Tomorrow should be fun. Don’t be late,” I said. And then I dragged Maria out of there.

She was still mauling me when we reached my car; rubbing her self against me and feeling me up. I had to slap her to make her stop. Hitting her felt good so I did it again. She looked up at me in shock but she didn’t try to defend herself. My cunt contracted when I realised she was waiting for me to hit her again.

We were alone in the parking lot and my Santa Fe is way taller than Maria, so I decided to take her.

“Turn and face the car. Put your hands on the vehicle and spread your legs.” Jesus, I thought, I sound just like a cop. I liked the idea.

Maria didn’t move so I span her round by her shoulders and threw her against the car. I was rougher than I meant to be and she bounced of the car but she assumed the position. I kicked her legs wider apart. She was tense, waiting for the next blow.

I kissed her on the neck and ran my hands over her little tits. “You were a good girl, Maria, so Amy’s gonna reward you.” She pressed her butt back against me and purred. She actually purred. “Amy’s gonna push her fist up your cunt until you come screaming like the little painslut you are.”

“Amy, I…”

I slapped her hard across the butt. “You wanna talk, slut? Then the only words I wanna hear are ‘Thank you, Amy’. Do you understand that?”

I thought she’d say “Yes” but she was smarter than that, she just said “Thank you, Amy”

The first two fingers just slid in. I worked them in and out pushing her up onto the balls of her feet.

With every stroke she said, “Thank you, Amy”.

I had to squat to get the rest of the fingers in. The thumb was the most difficult. Then I was in her up to my wrist. Fuck, that felt good. I closed my hand into a fist and she screamed for the first time. I rested my head against her ass to keep my balance (and because I liked the feel of her flesh on my forehead) then I fucked her with my fist. I kept it slow; I didn’t want to rip her.

The little slut was still chanting “Thank you, Amy.” I was so hot that I had to slip a finger over my clit. I steepled my fingers inside Maria and pushed until I found her cervix, then I squeezed. Shit she went off like a hooked fish. The sound of her coming tipped me over. I bit into her butt as I came, closing my eyes with the pleasure of it.

When the come had passed I realised my knees were stiff and my hand was still jammed up Maria’s cunt. I yanked the hand out and she collapsed onto her knees. She let herself sit then turned to face me.

Her face was streaked with tears. She’d bitten that cocksucking lip and there was a little line of blood running over her chin.

I was just wondering if I’d gone too far when she said, “Thank you, Amy.” Then she looked down and said, “I love you.”

That woke me up. I’d had enough of Maria for one day. I reached forward and pulled her head against my breast. As she started to nuzzle I  wiped my cunt-slimed hand on her hair.

“Yeah, well to me you’re just a wet cunt and a talented tongue, Maria.”

I stood up. She looked ready to cry. When I drove away she was still kneeling in the parking lot.

Yeah, I know I was hard on her, but she shouldn’t have brought up all that love shit. I hate it when they do that.

Anyway, Sis, that was Phase one of my master plan in action. Phase two is tonight. I go to the Lazy O and make Julien Ward regret not fucking me when he had the chance.

I’m gonna tell him that if he lets us tie him, Maria and I will take turns on his cock. I might even have Maria suck him while I tie the knots. Then I’m gonna push some Viagra down his throat. He’s gonna be hard for hours and we won’t fuck him once.

I’m gonna take Maria right on top of him. I’m gonna use a strap-on to take her hard. Then I’m gonna strap it onto darling Julien’s mouth and use it to fuck myself silly. The bastard will be begging to come. If he begs prettily enough I’ll get Maria to give him a hand job while I sit on his face.

I’ll let you know how it goes. Hey, I may even take a few more pictures just so you can join in the fun.

Hugs and Kisses

Amy

PS: Have you dumped that wimp boyfriend of yours yet? I don’t know why you put up with him. When I had him at Spring Break he wasn’t that good a lay.

The King’s Cocksucker

This story came out of nowhere and took me on a unique ride. I don’t even know how to classify it.

I offer it here for your amusement.

Please let me know what you think of it.

 

 

The King’s Cocksucker

(C) Mike Kimera 2010

Baron Eadric’s cock was awake before he was, saluting the morning as if it knew that today was a special occasion.

„May I help you with that, my lord?“

It was the new servant, the young one with the tight curls and the loose smile. The one that Eadric had transferred from castle kitchen skivvy to body-servant attending to his morning shave. The one who seemed to know what the look in Eadric’s eyes meant and who had decided that the smoothness of the morning shave could only be judged with soft butterfly kisses that kindled Eadric’s lust.

Until today had done nothing about that lust except hug it to himself. He was savouring the rare experience of waiting for something that he could just have taken. But today was Selection Day. Today the King’s Herald would test the local talent to discover who had the skill, the
grace, the comeliness of form to serve as one the “King’s Cocksuckers”.

The time for waiting was over.

„Put that razor down and make yourself useful,“ Eadric said, sliding his hands behind his head and waiting to be serviced.

Normally, Eadric would have given instructions on how he should be sucked. The young ones these days valued depth and speed whereas Eadric preferred finesse and control. He was as appreciative of a tight throat as the next man, but first he wanted to be provoked, teased, explored, seduced. He closed his eyes and waited to see if his needs would be understood. Sometimes it took a dagger tip to the cheek or cuff to the ear to get the message across.

A nose at the base of his cock, nudging softly, made Eadric sigh with pleasure. A  skilled mouth sucking in first his left, then his right ball, pulling hard enough to be playful but not so hard as to hurt, had Eadric arching his back. When a wide warm tongue methodically glazed his shaft without once touching his glans, his cock quivered with anticipation. When the laving continued until his cock curved towards his belly, it was all Eadric could do to keep his hands behind his head. When the servant’s mouth finally engulfed Eadric’s erection in a single smooth slide to the base of his shaft and stayed there for an almost impossibly long time, Eadric was certain that he was being serviced by one who had been trained in the old ways by a professional.

„The old ways“. The phrase made Eadric smile. He remembered when thirty years earlier, they had been „The new ways“ and he had been the first to try them.

At eighteen he had joined the Horde that King Wolfric summoned tomake war on the Franks. Although he was untested in battle, his noble blood, his immense strength and his skill with a battleaxe had won Eadric a place in the King’s Guard.

The Horde had fallen on the Franks like wolves attacking sheep that had grown soft and fat in the valley fields. When the Horde breached the walls of the great city of Rondel, Eadric had fought at the King’s side.

It was the first time that he had experienced battle lust. His axe was hungry and his cock was hard. He was bathed in the blood of the enemies he had defeated and still he wanted more.

It seemed to Eadric that all of those who sliced their way through the streets of Rondel felt the same hunger.

Perhaps it was that the enemy, grown soft and weak behind the walls they had thought to be impregnable, ran before the Horde like prey. Perhaps it was the disgust and excitement of spilling the guts of those who disgraced themselves by begging for mercy. However it started, the slaughter became a tune that the Horde danced to the whole day long.

By the time night fell, the air stank of blood and lust and victory and nothing breathed in Rondel except the Horde.

Arousal hung over them like a great wave ready crash. Eadric had just enough self-awareness to understand that the Horde was in danger of turning on itself.

King Wolfric, sensing the danger had called the four remaining members of his Guard to him, and lead them to the top of a mound of Frankish dead. From there, all the Horde could see him.

“Brothers,” he shouted. “Do you hear that?”

The Horde fell silent. Eadric could hear nothing but the rapid beating of his heart.

“That roaring in your ears, that is the victory cry of life.”

The Horde cheered.

King Wolfric unstrapped his cod-piece and pulled out his engorged manhood.

“This,” he said, pointing to his erection, “Is the pole that salutes our triumph. Show me how triumphant we have been.”

The Horde let out another fierce cheer and moved as one to display the full extent of their triumph. It was one of the most glorious things Eadric had ever seen.

King Wolfric grabbed Eadric and pushed him to his knees on the bloody hill of enemy dead. The Royal erection was so close to his face, Eadric could count the veins in the King’s shaft.

“Brothers, let me lead you in celebrating our victory.”

At this, the King had pushed himself into Eadric’s mouth and fucked it with great vigour.

The Horde did fall upon each other that night, but with hungry mouths and rampant cocks rather than axes and blades.

When he was done with Eadric, the King, who’s stamina was prodigious,had shared his blessing with each of the Guard in turn and then bid them celebrate with each other while he regained his strength. Afterwards, he and his Guard passed amongst the Horde, sharing their blessings with many.

All who were there when Wolfric devoured Rondel earned themselves the title of “The King’s Cocksuckers”.

Wolfric kept his Guard with him when he returned home. For a year Eadric served as both Guard and King’s Cocksucker. Then Wolfric released him from his service and granted him lands. That was the start of the King’s annual selection of Cocksuckers to serve him.

Eadric, who had grown rich, and if truth be told, a little fat, in the years that followed still counted King’s Cocksucker as his highest honour.

Recalling Rondel always added steel to Eadric’s erection. He was past the point of subtlety now. He needed to empty his balls. Eadric wrapped some of the servant’s tight curls around his fist and then,
brutally enforced  the rapid rhythm he craved. When the throat-deep release finally came Eadric lost himself for several seconds. He was brought back to earth by the servant’s vain struggle breathe.

With a fierce laugh, Eadric released his grip. He felt invigorated. He felt younger than his years. He felt he wanted to do it all again.

“Have you stopped choking yet?” Eadric asked.

“Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”

“Then take off your clothes and I will show you things a man doesn’t learn until the hairs on his balls turn grey.”

The servant had the sense to undress slowly, revealing smooth pale flesh with a shy smile and then waiting patiently for instructions.

Eadric reached out and ran his hand down the servant’s naked belly and was pleased at the shivering response.

“Today is the Selection Day,” Eadric said. “The Herald will be testing for those worthy to be King’s Cocksuckers. Would you like to meet the Herald? You have the training and the talent and you are a good looking boy.”

“With respect, sir,” the tousle-haired servant replied, “I would rather be Baron Eadric’s Cocksucker.”

“Excellent answer, boy.”

Finally, Eadric allowed himself to trace a finger and thumb along the boy’s long thin erection. It reared beneath his touch like an eager horse. Eadric grinned.

“Lie beside me, boy and hold the tip of my cock in your mouth. We will see if you can get me hard with gentle suction by the time I milk your seed onto your belly.”

As the boy scrambled and bounced onto the bed, Eadric thanked the gods for sending him to Rondel with the Horde and setting him on a path that had brought him so much joy.

 

 

The King’s Cocksuckers

Baron Eadric’s cock was awake before he was, saluting the morning as if it knew that today was a special occasion.

„May I help you with that, my lord?“

It was the new servant, the young one with the tight curls and the loose smile. The one that Eadric had transferred from castle kitchen skivvy to body-servant attending to his morning shave. The one who seemed to know what the look in Eadric’s eyes meant and who had decided that the smoothness of the morning shave could only be judged with soft butterfly kisses that kindled Eadric’s lust.

Until today had done nothing about that lust except hug it to himself. He was savouring the rare experience of waiting for something that he could just have taken. But today was Selection Day. Today the King’s Herald would test the local talent to discover who had the skill, the
grace, the comeliness of form to serve as one the “King’s Cocksuckers”.

The time for waiting was over.

„Put that razor down and make yourself useful,“ Eadric said, sliding his hands behind his head and waiting to be serviced.

Normally, Eadric would have given instructions on how he should be sucked. The young ones these days valued depth and speed whereas Eadric preferred finesse and control. He was as appreciative of a tight throat as the next man, but first he wanted to be provoked, teased, explored, seduced. He closed his eyes and waited to see if his needs would be understood. Sometimes it took a dagger tip to the cheek or cuff to the ear to get the message across.

A nose at the base of his cock, nudging softly, made Eadric sigh with pleasure. A  skilled mouth sucking in first his left, then his right ball, pulling hard enough to be playful but not so hard as to hurt, had Eadric arching his back. When a wide warm tongue methodically glazed his shaft without once touching his glans, his cock quivered with anticipation. When the laving continued until his cock curved towards his belly, it was all Eadric could do to keep his hands behind his head. When the servant’s mouth finally engulfed Eadric’s erection in a single smooth slide to the base of his shaft and stayed there for an almost impossibly long time, Eadric was certain that he was being serviced by one who had been trained in the old ways by a professional.

„The old ways“. The phrase made Eadric smile. He remembered when thirty years earlier, they had been „The new ways“ and he had been the first to try them.

At eighteen he had joined the Horde that King Wolfric summoned tomake war on the Franks. Although he was untested in battle, his noble blood, his immense strength and his skill with a battleaxe had won Eadric a place in the King’s Guard.

The Horde had fallen on the Franks like wolves attacking sheep that had grown soft and fat in the valley fields. When the Horde breached the walls of the great city of Rondel, Eadric had fought at the King’s side.

It was the first time that he had experienced battle lust. His axe was hungry and his cock was hard. He was bathed in the blood of the enemies he had defeated and still he wanted more.

It seemed to Eadric that all of those who sliced their way through the streets of Rondel felt the same hunger.

Perhaps it was that the enemy, grown soft and weak behind the walls they had thought to be impregnable, ran before the Horde like prey. Perhaps it was the disgust and excitement of spilling the guts of those who disgraced themselves by begging for mercy. However it started, the slaughter became a tune that the Horde danced to the whole day long.

By the time night fell, the air stank of blood and lust and victory and nothing breathed in Rondel except the Horde.

Arousal hung over them like a great wave ready crash. Eadric had just enough self-awareness to understand that the Horde was in danger of turning on itself.

King Wolfric, sensing the danger had called the four remaining members of his Guard to him, and lead them to the top of a mound of Frankish dead. From there, all the Horde could see him.

“Brothers,” he shouted. “Do you hear that?”

The Horde fell silent. Eadric could hear nothing but the rapid beating of his heart.

“That roaring in your ears, that is the victory cry of life.”

The Horde cheered.

King Wolfric unstrapped his cod-piece and pulled out his engorged manhood.

“This,” he said, pointing to his erection, “Is the pole that salutes our triumph. Show me how triumphant we have been.”

The Horde let out another fierce cheer and moved as one to display the full extent of their triumph. It was one of the most glorious things Eadric had ever seen.

King Wolfric grabbed Eadric and pushed him to his knees on the bloody hill of enemy dead. The Royal erection was so close to his face, Eadric could count the veins in the King’s shaft.

“Brothers, let me lead you in celebrating our victory.”

At this, the King had pushed himself into Eadric’s mouth and fucked it with great vigour.

The Horde did fall upon each other that night, but with hungry mouths and rampant cocks rather than axes and blades.

When he was done with Eadric, the King, who’s stamina was prodigious,had shared his blessing with each of the Guard in turn and then bid them celebrate with each other while he regained his strength. Afterwards, he and his Guard passed amongst the Horde, sharing their blessings with many.

All who were there when Wolfric devoured Rondel earned themselves the title of “The King’s Cocksuckers”.

Wolfric kept his Guard with him when he returned home. For a year Eadric served as both Guard and King’s Cocksucker. Then Wolfric released him from his service and granted him lands. That was the start of the King’s annual selection of Cocksuckers to serve him.

Eadric, who had grown rich, and if truth be told, a little fat, in the years that followed still counted King’s Cocksucker as his highest honour.

Recalling Rondel always added steel to Eadric’s erection. He was past the point of subtlety now. He needed to empty his balls. Eadric wrapped some of the servant’s tight curls around his fist and then,
brutally enforced  the rapid rhythm he craved. When the throat-deep release finally came Eadric lost himself for several seconds. He was brought back to earth by the servant’s vain struggle breathe.

With a fierce laugh, Eadric released his grip. He felt invigorated. He felt younger than his years. He felt he wanted to do it all again.

“Have you stopped choking yet?” Eadric asked.

“Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”

“Then take off your clothes and I will show you things a man doesn’t learn until the hairs on his balls turn grey.”

The servant had the sense to undress slowly, revealing smooth pale flesh with a shy smile and then waiting patiently for instructions.

Eadric reached out and ran his hand down the servant’s naked belly and was pleased at the shivering response.

“Today is the Selection Day,” Eadric said. “The Herald will be testing for those worthy to be King’s Cocksuckers. Would you like to meet the Herald? You have the training and the talent and you are a good looking boy.”

“With respect, sir,” the tousle-haired servant replied, “I would rather be Baron Eadric’s Cocksucker.”

“Excellent answer, boy.”

Finally, Eadric allowed himself to trace a finger and thumb along the boy’s long thin erection. It reared beneath his touch like an eager horse. Eadric grinned.

“Lie beside me, boy and hold the tip of my cock in your mouth. We will see if you can get me hard with gentle suction by the time I milk your seed onto your belly.”

As the boy scrambled and bounced onto the bed, Eadric thanked the gods for sending him to Rondel with the Horde and setting him on a path that had brought him so much joy.

The King’s Cocksuckers

Baron Eadric’s cock was awake before he was, saluting the morning as if it knew that today was a special occasion.

„May I help you with that, my lord?“

It was the new servant, the young one with the tight curls and the loose smile. The one that Eadric had transferred from castle kitchen skivvy to body-servant attending to his morning shave. The one who seemed to know what the look in Eadric’s eyes meant and who had decided that the smoothness of the morning shave could only be judged with soft butterfly kisses that kindled Eadric’s lust.

Until today had done nothing about that lust except hug it to himself. He was savouring the rare experience of waiting for something that he could just have taken. But today was Selection Day. Today the King’s Herald would test the local talent to discover who had the skill, the
grace, the comeliness of form to serve as one the “King’s Cocksuckers”.

The time for waiting was over.

„Put that razor down and make yourself useful,“ Eadric said, sliding his hands behind his head and waiting to be serviced.

Normally, Eadric would have given instructions on how he should be sucked. The young ones these days valued depth and speed whereas Eadric preferred finesse and control. He was as appreciative of a tight throat as the next man, but first he wanted to be provoked, teased, explored, seduced. He closed his eyes and waited to see if his needs would be understood. Sometimes it took a dagger tip to the cheek or cuff to the ear to get the message across.

A nose at the base of his cock, nudging softly, made Eadric sigh with pleasure. A  skilled mouth sucking in first his left, then his right ball, pulling hard enough to be playful but not so hard as to hurt, had Eadric arching his back. When a wide warm tongue methodically glazed his shaft without once touching his glans, his cock quivered with anticipation. When the laving continued until his cock curved towards his belly, it was all Eadric could do to keep his hands behind his head. When the servant’s mouth finally engulfed Eadric’s erection in a single smooth slide to the base of his shaft and stayed there for an almost impossibly long time, Eadric was certain that he was being serviced by one who had been trained in the old ways by a professional.

„The old ways“. The phrase made Eadric smile. He remembered when thirty years earlier, they had been „The new ways“ and he had been the first to try them.

At eighteen he had joined the Horde that King Wolfric summoned tomake war on the Franks. Although he was untested in battle, his noble blood, his immense strength and his skill with a battleaxe had won Eadric a place in the King’s Guard.

The Horde had fallen on the Franks like wolves attacking sheep that had grown soft and fat in the valley fields. When the Horde breached the walls of the great city of Rondel, Eadric had fought at the King’s side.

It was the first time that he had experienced battle lust. His axe was hungry and his cock was hard. He was bathed in the blood of the enemies he had defeated and still he wanted more.

It seemed to Eadric that all of those who sliced their way through the streets of Rondel felt the same hunger.

Perhaps it was that the enemy, grown soft and weak behind the walls they had thought to be impregnable, ran before the Horde like prey. Perhaps it was the disgust and excitement of spilling the guts of those who disgraced themselves by begging for mercy. However it started, the slaughter became a tune that the Horde danced to the whole day long.

By the time night fell, the air stank of blood and lust and victory and nothing breathed in Rondel except the Horde.

Arousal hung over them like a great wave ready crash. Eadric had just enough self-awareness to understand that the Horde was in danger of turning on itself.

King Wolfric, sensing the danger had called the four remaining members of his Guard to him, and lead them to the top of a mound of Frankish dead. From there, all the Horde could see him.

“Brothers,” he shouted. “Do you hear that?”

The Horde fell silent. Eadric could hear nothing but the rapid beating of his heart.

“That roaring in your ears, that is the victory cry of life.”

The Horde cheered.

King Wolfric unstrapped his cod-piece and pulled out his engorged manhood.

“This,” he said, pointing to his erection, “Is the pole that salutes our triumph. Show me how triumphant we have been.”

The Horde let out another fierce cheer and moved as one to display the full extent of their triumph. It was one of the most glorious things Eadric had ever seen.

King Wolfric grabbed Eadric and pushed him to his knees on the bloody hill of enemy dead. The Royal erection was so close to his face, Eadric could count the veins in the King’s shaft.

“Brothers, let me lead you in celebrating our victory.”

At this, the King had pushed himself into Eadric’s mouth and fucked it with great vigour.

The Horde did fall upon each other that night, but with hungry mouths and rampant cocks rather than axes and blades.

When he was done with Eadric, the King, who’s stamina was prodigious,had shared his blessing with each of the Guard in turn and then bid them celebrate with each other while he regained his strength. Afterwards, he and his Guard passed amongst the Horde, sharing their blessings with many.

All who were there when Wolfric devoured Rondel earned themselves the title of “The King’s Cocksuckers”.

Wolfric kept his Guard with him when he returned home. For a year Eadric served as both Guard and King’s Cocksucker. Then Wolfric released him from his service and granted him lands. That was the start of the King’s annual selection of Cocksuckers to serve him.

Eadric, who had grown rich, and if truth be told, a little fat, in the years that followed still counted King’s Cocksucker as his highest honour.

Recalling Rondel always added steel to Eadric’s erection. He was past the point of subtlety now. He needed to empty his balls. Eadric wrapped some of the servant’s tight curls around his fist and then,
brutally enforced  the rapid rhythm he craved. When the throat-deep release finally came Eadric lost himself for several seconds. He was brought back to earth by the servant’s vain struggle breathe.

With a fierce laugh, Eadric released his grip. He felt invigorated. He felt younger than his years. He felt he wanted to do it all again.

“Have you stopped choking yet?” Eadric asked.

“Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”

“Then take off your clothes and I will show you things a man doesn’t learn until the hairs on his balls turn grey.”

The servant had the sense to undress slowly, revealing smooth pale flesh with a shy smile and then waiting patiently for instructions.

Eadric reached out and ran his hand down the servant’s naked belly and was pleased at the shivering response.

“Today is the Selection Day,” Eadric said. “The Herald will be testing for those worthy to be King’s Cocksuckers. Would you like to meet the Herald? You have the training and the talent and you are a good looking boy.”

“With respect, sir,” the tousle-haired servant replied, “I would rather be Baron Eadric’s Cocksucker.”

“Excellent answer, boy.”

Finally, Eadric allowed himself to trace a finger and thumb along the boy’s long thin erection. It reared beneath his touch like an eager horse. Eadric grinned.

“Lie beside me, boy and hold the tip of my cock in your mouth. We will see if you can get me hard with gentle suction by the time I milk your seed onto your belly.”

As the boy scrambled and bounced onto the bed, Eadric thanked the gods for sending him to Rondel with the Horde and setting him on a path that had brought him so much joy.

The King’s Cocksuckers

Baron Eadric’s cock was awake before he was, saluting the morning as if it knew that today was a special occasion.

„May I help you with that, my lord?“

It was the new servant, the young one with the tight curls and the loose smile. The one that Eadric had transferred from castle kitchen skivvy to body-servant attending to his morning shave. The one who seemed to know what the look in Eadric’s eyes meant and who had decided that the smoothness of the morning shave could only be judged with soft butterfly kisses that kindled Eadric’s lust.

Until today had done nothing about that lust except hug it to himself. He was savouring the rare experience of waiting for something that he could just have taken. But today was Selection Day. Today the King’s Herald would test the local talent to discover who had the skill, the
grace, the comeliness of form to serve as one the “King’s Cocksuckers”.

The time for waiting was over.

„Put that razor down and make yourself useful,“ Eadric said, sliding his hands behind his head and waiting to be serviced.

Normally, Eadric would have given instructions on how he should be sucked. The young ones these days valued depth and speed whereas Eadric preferred finesse and control. He was as appreciative of a tight throat as the next man, but first he wanted to be provoked, teased, explored, seduced. He closed his eyes and waited to see if his needs would be understood. Sometimes it took a dagger tip to the cheek or cuff to the ear to get the message across.

A nose at the base of his cock, nudging softly, made Eadric sigh with pleasure. A  skilled mouth sucking in first his left, then his right ball, pulling hard enough to be playful but not so hard as to hurt, had Eadric arching his back. When a wide warm tongue methodically glazed his shaft without once touching his glans, his cock quivered with anticipation. When the laving continued until his cock curved towards his belly, it was all Eadric could do to keep his hands behind his head. When the servant’s mouth finally engulfed Eadric’s erection in a single smooth slide to the base of his shaft and stayed there for an almost impossibly long time, Eadric was certain that he was being serviced by one who had been trained in the old ways by a professional.

„The old ways“. The phrase made Eadric smile. He remembered when thirty years earlier, they had been „The new ways“ and he had been the first to try them.

At eighteen he had joined the Horde that King Wolfric summoned tomake war on the Franks. Although he was untested in battle, his noble blood, his immense strength and his skill with a battleaxe had won Eadric a place in the King’s Guard.

The Horde had fallen on the Franks like wolves attacking sheep that had grown soft and fat in the valley fields. When the Horde breached the walls of the great city of Rondel, Eadric had fought at the King’s side.

It was the first time that he had experienced battle lust. His axe was hungry and his cock was hard. He was bathed in the blood of the enemies he had defeated and still he wanted more.

It seemed to Eadric that all of those who sliced their way through the streets of Rondel felt the same hunger.

Perhaps it was that the enemy, grown soft and weak behind the walls they had thought to be impregnable, ran before the Horde like prey. Perhaps it was the disgust and excitement of spilling the guts of those who disgraced themselves by begging for mercy. However it started, the slaughter became a tune that the Horde danced to the whole day long.

By the time night fell, the air stank of blood and lust and victory and nothing breathed in Rondel except the Horde.

Arousal hung over them like a great wave ready crash. Eadric had just enough self-awareness to understand that the Horde was in danger of turning on itself.

King Wolfric, sensing the danger had called the four remaining members of his Guard to him, and lead them to the top of a mound of Frankish dead. From there, all the Horde could see him.

“Brothers,” he shouted. “Do you hear that?”

The Horde fell silent. Eadric could hear nothing but the rapid beating of his heart.

“That roaring in your ears, that is the victory cry of life.”

The Horde cheered.

King Wolfric unstrapped his cod-piece and pulled out his engorged manhood.

“This,” he said, pointing to his erection, “Is the pole that salutes our triumph. Show me how triumphant we have been.”

The Horde let out another fierce cheer and moved as one to display the full extent of their triumph. It was one of the most glorious things Eadric had ever seen.

King Wolfric grabbed Eadric and pushed him to his knees on the bloody hill of enemy dead. The Royal erection was so close to his face, Eadric could count the veins in the King’s shaft.

“Brothers, let me lead you in celebrating our victory.”

At this, the King had pushed himself into Eadric’s mouth and fucked it with great vigour.

The Horde did fall upon each other that night, but with hungry mouths and rampant cocks rather than axes and blades.

When he was done with Eadric, the King, who’s stamina was prodigious,had shared his blessing with each of the Guard in turn and then bid them celebrate with each other while he regained his strength. Afterwards, he and his Guard passed amongst the Horde, sharing their blessings with many.

All who were there when Wolfric devoured Rondel earned themselves the title of “The King’s Cocksuckers”.

Wolfric kept his Guard with him when he returned home. For a year Eadric served as both Guard and King’s Cocksucker. Then Wolfric released him from his service and granted him lands. That was the start of the King’s annual selection of Cocksuckers to serve him.

Eadric, who had grown rich, and if truth be told, a little fat, in the years that followed still counted King’s Cocksucker as his highest honour.

Recalling Rondel always added steel to Eadric’s erection. He was past the point of subtlety now. He needed to empty his balls. Eadric wrapped some of the servant’s tight curls around his fist and then,
brutally enforced  the rapid rhythm he craved. When the throat-deep release finally came Eadric lost himself for several seconds. He was brought back to earth by the servant’s vain struggle breathe.

With a fierce laugh, Eadric released his grip. He felt invigorated. He felt younger than his years. He felt he wanted to do it all again.

“Have you stopped choking yet?” Eadric asked.

“Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”

“Then take off your clothes and I will show you things a man doesn’t learn until the hairs on his balls turn grey.”

The servant had the sense to undress slowly, revealing smooth pale flesh with a shy smile and then waiting patiently for instructions.

Eadric reached out and ran his hand down the servant’s naked belly and was pleased at the shivering response.

“Today is the Selection Day,” Eadric said. “The Herald will be testing for those worthy to be King’s Cocksuckers. Would you like to meet the Herald? You have the training and the talent and you are a good looking boy.”

“With respect, sir,” the tousle-haired servant replied, “I would rather be Baron Eadric’s Cocksucker.”

“Excellent answer, boy.”

Finally, Eadric allowed himself to trace a finger and thumb along the boy’s long thin erection. It reared beneath his touch like an eager horse. Eadric grinned.

“Lie beside me, boy and hold the tip of my cock in your mouth. We will see if you can get me hard with gentle suction by the time I milk your seed onto your belly.”

As the boy scrambled and bounced onto the bed, Eadric thanked the gods for sending him to Rondel with the Horde and setting him on a path that had brought him so much joy.

The King’s Cocksuckers

Baron Eadric’s cock was awake before he was, saluting the morning as if it knew that today was a special occasion.

„May I help you with that, my lord?“

It was the new servant, the young one with the tight curls and the loose smile. The one that Eadric had transferred from castle kitchen skivvy to body-servant attending to his morning shave. The one who seemed to know what the look in Eadric’s eyes meant and who had decided that the smoothness of the morning shave could only be judged with soft butterfly kisses that kindled Eadric’s lust.

Until today had done nothing about that lust except hug it to himself. He was savouring the rare experience of waiting for something that he could just have taken. But today was Selection Day. Today the King’s Herald would test the local talent to discover who had the skill, the
grace, the comeliness of form to serve as one the “King’s Cocksuckers”.

The time for waiting was over.

„Put that razor down and make yourself useful,“ Eadric said, sliding his hands behind his head and waiting to be serviced.

Normally, Eadric would have given instructions on how he should be sucked. The young ones these days valued depth and speed whereas Eadric preferred finesse and control. He was as appreciative of a tight throat as the next man, but first he wanted to be provoked, teased, explored, seduced. He closed his eyes and waited to see if his needs would be understood. Sometimes it took a dagger tip to the cheek or cuff to the ear to get the message across.

A nose at the base of his cock, nudging softly, made Eadric sigh with pleasure. A  skilled mouth sucking in first his left, then his right ball, pulling hard enough to be playful but not so hard as to hurt, had Eadric arching his back. When a wide warm tongue methodically glazed his shaft without once touching his glans, his cock quivered with anticipation. When the laving continued until his cock curved towards his belly, it was all Eadric could do to keep his hands behind his head. When the servant’s mouth finally engulfed Eadric’s erection in a single smooth slide to the base of his shaft and stayed there for an almost impossibly long time, Eadric was certain that he was being serviced by one who had been trained in the old ways by a professional.

„The old ways“. The phrase made Eadric smile. He remembered when thirty years earlier, they had been „The new ways“ and he had been the first to try them.

At eighteen he had joined the Horde that King Wolfric summoned tomake war on the Franks. Although he was untested in battle, his noble blood, his immense strength and his skill with a battleaxe had won Eadric a place in the King’s Guard.

The Horde had fallen on the Franks like wolves attacking sheep that had grown soft and fat in the valley fields. When the Horde breached the walls of the great city of Rondel, Eadric had fought at the King’s side.

It was the first time that he had experienced battle lust. His axe was hungry and his cock was hard. He was bathed in the blood of the enemies he had defeated and still he wanted more.

It seemed to Eadric that all of those who sliced their way through the streets of Rondel felt the same hunger.

Perhaps it was that the enemy, grown soft and weak behind the walls they had thought to be impregnable, ran before the Horde like prey. Perhaps it was the disgust and excitement of spilling the guts of those who disgraced themselves by begging for mercy. However it started, the slaughter became a tune that the Horde danced to the whole day long.

By the time night fell, the air stank of blood and lust and victory and nothing breathed in Rondel except the Horde.

Arousal hung over them like a great wave ready crash. Eadric had just enough self-awareness to understand that the Horde was in danger of turning on itself.

King Wolfric, sensing the danger had called the four remaining members of his Guard to him, and lead them to the top of a mound of Frankish dead. From there, all the Horde could see him.

“Brothers,” he shouted. “Do you hear that?”

The Horde fell silent. Eadric could hear nothing but the rapid beating of his heart.

“That roaring in your ears, that is the victory cry of life.”

The Horde cheered.

King Wolfric unstrapped his cod-piece and pulled out his engorged manhood.

“This,” he said, pointing to his erection, “Is the pole that salutes our triumph. Show me how triumphant we have been.”

The Horde let out another fierce cheer and moved as one to display the full extent of their triumph. It was one of the most glorious things Eadric had ever seen.

King Wolfric grabbed Eadric and pushed him to his knees on the bloody hill of enemy dead. The Royal erection was so close to his face, Eadric could count the veins in the King’s shaft.

“Brothers, let me lead you in celebrating our victory.”

At this, the King had pushed himself into Eadric’s mouth and fucked it with great vigour.

The Horde did fall upon each other that night, but with hungry mouths and rampant cocks rather than axes and blades.

When he was done with Eadric, the King, who’s stamina was prodigious,had shared his blessing with each of the Guard in turn and then bid them celebrate with each other while he regained his strength. Afterwards, he and his Guard passed amongst the Horde, sharing their blessings with many.

All who were there when Wolfric devoured Rondel earned themselves the title of “The King’s Cocksuckers”.

Wolfric kept his Guard with him when he returned home. For a year Eadric served as both Guard and King’s Cocksucker. Then Wolfric released him from his service and granted him lands. That was the start of the King’s annual selection of Cocksuckers to serve him.

Eadric, who had grown rich, and if truth be told, a little fat, in the years that followed still counted King’s Cocksucker as his highest honour.

Recalling Rondel always added steel to Eadric’s erection. He was past the point of subtlety now. He needed to empty his balls. Eadric wrapped some of the servant’s tight curls around his fist and then,
brutally enforced  the rapid rhythm he craved. When the throat-deep release finally came Eadric lost himself for several seconds. He was brought back to earth by the servant’s vain struggle breathe.

With a fierce laugh, Eadric released his grip. He felt invigorated. He felt younger than his years. He felt he wanted to do it all again.

“Have you stopped choking yet?” Eadric asked.

“Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”

“Then take off your clothes and I will show you things a man doesn’t learn until the hairs on his balls turn grey.”

The servant had the sense to undress slowly, revealing smooth pale flesh with a shy smile and then waiting patiently for instructions.

Eadric reached out and ran his hand down the servant’s naked belly and was pleased at the shivering response.

“Today is the Selection Day,” Eadric said. “The Herald will be testing for those worthy to be King’s Cocksuckers. Would you like to meet the Herald? You have the training and the talent and you are a good looking boy.”

“With respect, sir,” the tousle-haired servant replied, “I would rather be Baron Eadric’s Cocksucker.”

“Excellent answer, boy.”

Finally, Eadric allowed himself to trace a finger and thumb along the boy’s long thin erection. It reared beneath his touch like an eager horse. Eadric grinned.

“Lie beside me, boy and hold the tip of my cock in your mouth. We will see if you can get me hard with gentle suction by the time I milk your seed onto your belly.”

As the boy scrambled and bounced onto the bed, Eadric thanked the gods for sending him to Rondel with the Horde and setting him on a path that had brought him so much joy.

Fucking Forever

© Mike Kimera

1

Eternal life. That’s what I wanted. That’s what we all wanted. And the aliens gave it to us. They didn’t have to of course. They were powerful enough that they could have taken anything they wanted. We couldn’t have stopped them. Everyone argues about why they made the offer, especially those of us who took it. Some think it was a sort of religious observance, others say it was their sense of honour. I think they did it because it amused them. I think it amuses them still.

Earth’s first contact with alien life didn’t involve shiny hardware landing on the White House lawn or benign beings beaming their smiling face into every home and telling us that they came in peace. I don’t think it occurred to them to announce their presence to us. Would you announce your presence to the bugs in the jungle? Or to the trees? They didn’t go in for the “take me to your leader” stuff. They wanted earth as a theme park, not a colony. “Take me to your leader” – like they cared.

I met my first alien in a chatroom. It’s not that I was a geek or anything. I was just trying to get laid. I was forty-two years old and death’s winged chariot was threatening to cut me off at the knees. I was going to die. Not soon maybe, but it was definitely going to happen. I could see it in the way my body took longer to recover from drinking and my cock took longer to reload. I’d decided that when it reached the point where I had to get up in the middle of the night to take a piss I was going to shoot myself. When I woke in the morning I could smell the stink of my own putrefaction. Yeah I know, trite mid-life crisis. Yawn. Except that this was my mid-life crisis and it wasn’t fucking funny.

She said her name was Trinity. I thought she was probably one of those folks who know every line of “The Matrix”, and keep saying things like, “Guns. Lots of guns.”, but I hoped that it meant she was into three-ways. I’d never had one but I meant to try it before I died.

I was calling myself “Thriller” in the chatroom. Yeah, well this was a hundred years ago, I was young and had no imagination. I still have our chat stored. Let me bring it up for you.

Thriller: what you wearing babe?

Trinity: I never wear anything

Thriller: Whoa, my kind of girl

Trinity: You don’t like clothes?

Thriller: Well, maybe some leather and lace and some fuck me pumps. EG*

There’s a lot more like that. It never sounds quite that lame when you’re typing it. Let’s scroll forward a bit.

Trinity: Is there anyone you love?

Thriller: You mean like, am I fucking someone?

Trinity: I mean love: being emotionally engaged with someone to the point where you would automatically place his or her interests before your own.

Thriller: This is getting heavy, Trin. You wanna fuck or what?

Trinity: I want you to answer my questions. If I like your answers I will arrange to meet with you tomorrow. I promise you it will be memorable.

Thriller: So what kind of answers do you want?

Trinity: Honest ones.

We talked for an hour or more. After a while I stopped being Thriller and started being me. It had been a long time since anyone had really listened to me; it felt good. I told her about my (ex) wife, my (ex) mistress, my (estranged) sister, the girl next door who did aerobics in her bedroom with the lights on and the windows open; about the painful way my mother died; and about my own fear of death. I slipped rapidly from glib and cocky to tearful and self-pitying. It was like getting drunk only faster, and Trinity was like the best bartender in the world, abetting my intoxication while sympathizing with the results.

Trinity: Thank you for answering my questions. Be at this address tomorrow at 10pm.

I was so far gone in self-pity that I’d actually forgotten that this was supposed to be about getting laid. After I logged off I suddenly thought, “Wow, I’m really gonna fuck someone I met on line.”

Maybe if I hadn’t been so juiced, it might have struck me as odd that a woman I didn’t know and whom I’d just cried all over, wanted to have sex with me.

Trinity lived in a very upscale apartment block in Midtown, the sort of place the doorman would normally have thrown me out of unless I was delivering flowers.

The elevator opened into a reception area half the size of my apartment. I’d have been impressed but I was too busy looking at the naked woman in front of me. She looked just like Trinity in “The Matrix”: short jet-black hair, muscled body, and fighter’s stance. Of course, in the movie I never got to find out whether Trinity shaved her pubes into a narrow little strip that looked like a down arrow.

“Wow,” I said.

I was always good at compliments.

Trinity didn’t smile, she didn’t speak, she just pushed me back against the wall with one hand on my throat, and ripped open – and I mean ripped – my Dockers. This girl was strong.

The pressure on my neck increased and I started to feel dizzy. Her hand on my cock was cool but completely relentless. I started to panic. I was being choked to death by a naked psycho, just when I was getting the most impressive hard-on of my life.

My vision was starting to fade and Trinity’s face showed nothing but curiosity. She tilted her head to one side and looked at me just the way Michael does after he’s gutted some teen with his knife in the “Halloween” movies.

Trinity let go of my neck and I slid to the floor gasping. She straddled my cock and slipped it inside of her. Her whole demeanour changed. Suddenly she was straight out of a porn flick: pulling at her breasts and tossing her head back and going, “Yeah, Baby. Oh Yeah. Harder Baby. Oh do it to me Baby!” It was corny but it worked. I came inside her like someone had turned on a tap. When the flow stopped – look I hadn’t been laid in a month so it went on a while Ok? – Trinity just stood up. My cum was seeping down her thigh and she was looking at me like she was seeing me for the first time.

“Did you enjoy that?”

The porn star was gone. This question was asked in the same tone I’d imagined from the chatroom – a clever but dispassionate woman who studied men like insect specimens. For a brief moment I wondered if I’d walked into her killing jar, then male ego took over.

“That was great Trin. Did you come?”

“I always come.”

She didn’t sound pleased about it – more like bored, maybe even sad.

“What is your name?”

I’d always wanted to be asked that after I’d fucked a beautiful woman.

I grinned and said “Jim, Jim O’Hara.”

“Get out of those ripped clothes Mr. O’Hara. There are some people I want you to meet.”

People? Hey, maybe we were gonna do the group sex thing after all. Hurray for me and my sexual charisma.

I followed Trinity down the hall, enjoying the view of her from behind. She led me into a kind of library/multimedia room: big flatscreen TV, fancy audio system, computer rig, books by the wall full, but no people.

“Sit please,” she said, pointing to a leather armchair.

“Where is everybody?”

Trinity leant forward and placed a pair of headphones over my ears. That brought her breasts pleasantly close. I was about to lick them when the aliens arrived inside my head.

I couldn’t see them but I knew they were there. It was as if they were at the top of my skull, out of sight. It was hard to tell how many of them there were because they moved around a lot. Their arrival lasted about a heartbeat and then a screenshow went on behind my eyes – colours forming and reforming into random shapes. I couldn’t see Trinity any more. I know I should have been alarmed but the colours filled me with a sense of well being.

“Hi Jimbo, how’s it goin’?”

The voice belonged to Kieran, my best friend from school. Problem was, he’d been killed on his motorcycle two years earlier – the day before my 40th birthday – that had been a real bummer.

“You’re dead.”

“Yeah, I know. But they’ve kinda borrowed me from your memory so they can talk to you.”

“Who’s ‘They'”

“The aliens of course. Didn’t Trinity tell you… no that’s right we got distracted didn’t we. It’s been a while since we met someone who needed a fuck as badly as you did.”

“What fucking aliens?”

“The aliens who just used Trinity’s body to fuck you. Look, we’ll prove it. Think about what you’d like Trinity to do for you. Get a real clear image in your head. Then we’ll use her to do it.”

I knew exactly what I wanted.

“We knew you had a good imagination Jimbo. Great image man.”

The aliens restored my sight just in time for me to see Trinity’s lips touch my balls. My whole cock was in her mouth. She pulled back until only the head was in her mouth, sucked hard and then pushed forward to my balls again. She did it slowly, just the way I’d always imagined.

“Oh God,” I said.

“Not God, Jimbo – but close.”

“Look, Kieran, no offence man but do I have to talk to them through you. I mean you’re dead and it freaks me out a bit, you know?”

Kieran morphed and suddenly I was speaking to Jean-Luc Picard. Holy shit, these aliens knew what I liked. He was my all time hero. I had this fantasy where I was in a three-way with him and Deanna Troi. We’d take an end each, all ready for action and he’d grin and say “engage” and we’d fuck the shit out of her.

“Death frightens you, Mr O’Hara,”

“Hey, we all die,” I said. Well, I had to try and sound cool in front of Picard.

“Actually,” he said, “in your case that no longer has to be true. How would you like to live forever, Mr. O’Hara?”

Then Picard explained the aliens in that clear calm way he always used on the TV. The aliens travelled the universe as a kind transmission. All that static we’d been listening to for years, hoping to get a message from alien life – well some of it was alien life. They travelled to earth and then beamed down through our own coms satellites.

Of course it seems obvious to us now that the best way to travel through space is as data. All that effort we spent on overcoming gravity wells and keeping bodies from decaying in zero gravity and dreaming about finding hyperspace, when the clue had been right there in the early Star Trek stuff – ‘Beam me up Scotty’. Turn me into data. Fax me across the universe. E-mail me to kingdom come. And when I get there I’ll look for somewhere to live.

“And I’m the somewhere to live, right?”

“Actually you’re more like an SUV, used by lots of different people for short periods of time to go and have some fun. We are thrill seekers Mr. O’Hara. You understand thrills don’t you?”

Trinity started to suck harder and push deeper, making little choking sounds. I understood thrills all right.

“Think of us as body hitchhikers. We won’t steal your body; we just want a ride in it. You’ll still be inside, just the way Trinity is still in her own head, it’s just that she isn’t at the steering wheel anymore.”

“And what do I get?”

Picard morphed into Keanu in that long black leather coat I lusted after every time I watched “The Matrix”.

“Sex. Lots of sex, ” he said. “Oh and you get to live forever.”

“Forever?”

“Cool isn’t it? We get rid of all the things that make you age and die.”

“How long do you ride?”

The alien morphed back into Picard. “We understand that a year and a day is the traditional period for indentured service in your culture. We will improve your body of course, just as we improved Trinity’s. Trinity was originally Carol Parks.”

Holy shit. Carol Parks was a media figure. Reclusive heiress. Interested in science because she wanted something that would…

“…cure her spinal injury? Yes,” Picard said. “She was close to success with the nanotech work she’d sponsored. We just gave her a few additional pieces of data.”

“But Carol Parks is…”

“A fifty-five year old paraplegic recluse. As we said, some improvements where made.”

I stroked the raven hair of the woman who was sucking my cock well enough to keep me on edge without letting me get bored. She sure didn’t look fifty-five.

“Carol wanted a more physical life. We gave it to her. She is, unfortunately agoraphobic to the point where her body shuts down if we ride her outside. But she has a wide network of contacts on the web so we decided to go with the home delivery approach.”

Hell, one minute I’m a SUV, now I’m fucking pizza. These guys weren’t exactly great on the flattery.

“One last thing, like Trinity, you will be responsible for some recruitment. Think of it as a kind of pyramid selling.”

I was losing my concentration. An heiress was blowing my cock while aliens where blowing my mind. My breathing was becoming ragged.

“Why me?” I gasped

“We like your personality: self absorbed, distant, emotionally immature but capable of sustaining a strong fantasy life. So do you want to sign up, Mr. O’Hara? Say yes and we’ll start improving you immediately. Trinity will keep you amused until the work is done.”

Trinity was bobbing her head now. Less deep throat and a lot more suction. I was going to do it, I was gonna…

“YES!” I said and came in Trinity’s mouth.

“Good decision, O’Hara. Welcome aboard,”

Picard disappeared and I was left alone with Trinity. The alien’s must have started work on my body immediately because I was already getting hard again.

Trinity was sucking dutifully but there were tears in her eyes. I should have paid attention to those tears. Instead, I pushed her back onto her heels, popped myself out of her mouth, looked into her eyes, smiled and said, “Do you like anal?”

I spent three days with Trinity. It was a long three days. One of the things the aliens forgot to mention was that they wanted to be able to ride 24/7, so no sleep for the SUV. I spent the time fucking, eating and watching DVDs. I never really got to speak to Carol Parks. There was always an alien behind Trinity’s eyes, but you could tell that it wasn’t always the same one.

By the end of the third day, I looked about thirty and very fit with it. I was still me but I was the me I’d always wanted to see in the mirror: muscled, good skin, bigger cock, and above all, cool.

On the fourth day I got my first rider. This time there was no picture for me to talk to, no conversation in fact. I was up and moving, but I had no control, I couldn’t even change the direction of my gaze.

When I realized where we were going I tried to turn away. My rider laughed. “Just enjoy the ride, Jimbo. I’m going to have some fun.”

I recognised the voice. My rider had decided to be Jack Nicholson, my all-time favourite actor. I tried to say I didn’t want this but I couldn’t speak.

The alien heard me anyway. “Giddy-up hos,” it said and steered me into a gay-bar.

This wasn’t a discrete place for the gently gay and the quietly curious. It was called “The Cactus Cowboy” and the neon sign showed a happy cowboy squatting over a bright green cactus that was shaped like a cock and balls.

Inside, things got worse, they were line dancing and all of them knew the words to “My achy breaky heart”.

I’d like to say that I don’t remember what happened next but the aliens gifted me with total recall. That’s one of the things that convinces me that they had a sense of humour.

I was steered towards the bar, an inane grin on my face. I stepped up close to a young cowboy, ran my finger through the hair on his muscled forearm, leant up against him and heard myself say, “I can never resist strong forearms; makes me pucker up all over.”

My would-be lover walked off in disgust. Seemed like I was no more successful getting laid gay than I was straight.

“This your first time?” The voice came from behind me. It was deep and smooth, like chocolate for the ear. My rider turned me towards the voice. A tall man, older, maybe fifty and wearing shitkicker shoes, a shirt with pearl buttons and a large black hat – yea hah!

“I’m a virgin,” I said. “But you could change that.”

“Son, I hope you have no ambitions as a writer – you have some of the corniest lines I ever heard.”

I felt myself smile, then I touched his cheek and said “But I’m cute with it, right?”

He kissed me. My tongue pushed into his mouth. I’d never really thought about kissing a guy, but if I had thought about it I’d have imagined myself heaving at this point. Actually it didn’t feel any different from kissing a woman. That was almost enough to put me off kissing any more women.

“Jimbo,” the alien in my head said, “you are such a bigot. It’s a good job I know that you’ve always liked oral sex. Now let’s get you ready.”

My erection surprised me more than it surprised my kissing partner. I held his hand against it and pushed my hips forward.

He stopped kissing me. His hand tightened around my genitals. “I think that you lack romance.” He said, lifting me onto my toes by the balls and making me lean against him. “I think that you’re in a hurry to get back to your wife” He let go of me and I almost fell. “I think you’ll be at your best on your knees with my cock in your mouth”.

He grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me towards the toilets. With an attention to detail that I could have lived without, I noticed that the line dancers had been replaced by couples twirling to the strains of “Yellow Rose Of Texas”.

There were no doors on the crappers. They weren’t being used to crap in. I tried not to look as I was pulled past.

He sat me on the crapper, unzipped, held his cock in front of me (smaller than my new improved version but better than what I used to have) and said “Put that smart mouth to use, boy.” Then he handed me a fucking condom. Did he think I had aids or something?

The alien knew what to do. I just watched from behind my eyes as I ripped open the wrapper, put the condom between my lips, and pushed it over the head of his cock. It was cherry flavoured. Who the hell buys cherry flavoured condoms?

I’d never realised cock sucking took so long. And I was really trying. Or at least the alien was. I hollowed out my cheeks, I sucked so hard. I hummed. The alien even widened my throat so I could take all of him at the one time. Just like Trinity had taken me. The guy took forever. Who’d have thought you could get bored with a cock in your mouth.

“Can’t have you getting bored, Jimbo” the alien said.

I took the guys cock out of mouth. “I want it up me.” I said.

I worked him with my hand, squeezing the base. “Right up me.”

“Be quick boy,” was all he said.

I turned around, dropped my jeans and held on to the cistern.

Anal sex hurts. A lot. But the aliens had altered me there too because things suddenly got easier.

“Damn me but you were all lubed up, weren’t ya boy.”

His cock felt much bigger in my arse than it had in my mouth. And he was pushing harder. I knew why I liked anal sex, it was fucking tight. Now I knew why it was so hard to get without paying for it.

I was focused on the pain right up to point were he grabbed my cock. He was all the way in me, moving back and forth less than half an inch. With every push he would stroke my cock.

“Timing is everything Jimbo,” my Jack Nicholson rider said “Let’s put on a show for the guy.”

I started to groan and then moan and then shout. It was ascene from “When Harry met Sally in the crapper and found she had a cock”.

By the time he came up my arse I was shouting “YES! YES! YES!” Then I sprayed the wall with my cum.

“Sweet Jesus, boy – you learn fast.” my fuckmate said. He pulled out of me and I felt like my arsehole was gaping a foot or so across.

I waited for Jack Nicholson to say something smart or maybe even offer seconds. Then I realised that he was gone. I was bent over the crapper with my newly fucked arse in the air and cum dripping from my dick and my rider had left.

I turned around and found that my partner had left too. Not even an “I’ll call you”. And after all I’d done for him.

I pulled up my jeans. I ought to have been mad at the aliens, disgusted with myself, angry with the world but all I could think was “My arse hurts”

When I stepped out of the trap people applauded. My little show had attracted an audience. I ran out of there as fast as I could.

When I got back to the apartment I met Carol Parks for the first time. She still had the Trinity body of course but I could see something different behind her eyes.

“The first ride is always rough” she said.

“I don’t want to talk about it. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“My guess would be a gay bar”

“How did you know that?”

“Because, for my first time they made me fuck you.”

“?”

“I have a strong preference for girls, Jim”

“But we’ve… I’ve… You’ve”

“Yes. Like I said, the first time is always rough.”

Then I surprised myself. “I’m sorry, Carol.” I said.

It was as if a switch had been flicked.

“C’mere lover,” she said and reached for me.

She was being ridden. I ran for my room and closed the door. Behind me I heard Trinity laugh. I wondered what Carol Parks was doing.

2

They left me alone for a while. At least I thought they did. I started to wonder how I’d know if the aliens were there. What if they thought it was fun to watch me trying to figure them out? A sort of reality TV with full surround-sound and vision.

I’d signed up for a year and a day of service and I was wigging out after only five days. The idea of a year of fucking had seemed like a win-win deal. Now I realised I’d turned myself into a walking dildo.

“It could be worse, Jimbo”, Kieran, my dead best friend was back as the aliens’ mouthpiece, except this time he looked the way I’d seen him in the coffin at his funeral, waxy and too well groomed. “We could let you find out what it feels like to slice open your own belly, or pop an eyeball. We’d repair it later of course but it would be a hell of a ride while it lasted.”

The fear was instant. My balls shrank, there was a coppery taste in my mouth, I wanted to curl into a ball.

Suddenly Kieran became Hannibal, complete with face mask. He titled his head back, sniffed the air and said, “Nothing refreshes the senses like the scent of raw terror, Claris”

All the slice and dice movies I’d watched flashed across my memory. All those sharp blades and power tools. All that screaming. How had I ever thought that they were fun?

I stood up. Or rather, the aliens stood me up. I picked up the beer bottle that I’d left beside the bed and smashed it against the wall. Then I stood in front of the mirror, smiled, and raised the jagged glass towards my face. They were going to cut me. And they were going to make me watch. Then they would repair me and make me do it again. I wanted to scream but all I could do was smile at myself.

At the edge of my hearing, Hannibal made that wine-taster slurping sound and said, “Delicious”. Then they let go of me.

I’d never puked and pissed myself at the same time before. I lay there able to move but needing stillness. What the hell had I got myself into?

Carol came in. There was something in her look, some basic human empathy, that told me it was Carol and not Trinity.

She wrinkled her nose at the smell but her tone was sympathetic, “I see our friends gave you the ‘every silver lining has a cloud’ demo.”

She took hold of my wrist and said, “Come on, lets get you into the shower.”

Carol was naked as usual. As I undressed I realised that I was embarrassed to be naked in front of her now. It wasn’t just that I’d soiled myself, it seemed more personal than before. Maybe she picked up on my discomfort, because, once she herded me into the shower and turned on the water, she stepped back outside.

I’d fucked Trinity/Carol in this shower. Images of my cock between her soap-covered breasts surfaced in my mind. It took no effort at all to recall the slippery slide of her finger into my ass, or the rasping of her tongue on my balls.

“Did they make you hurt yourself?” I asked, trying not to let the Trinity memories arouse me.

Carol gave a humourless laugh. “They showed me that I could be paraplegic again in an instant: incontinent, immobile, helpless. But this time I might find my vocabulary restricted to the words shit and fuck and piss.”

Even under the hot water I shivered at the thought of that. My wannabe erection faded in sympathy.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “They can make us do whatever they want. Why the threats?”

“They are aliens, Jim. They aren’t from around here. Who knows what they want? But if I had to guess I’d say that want us… stimulated. It’s not enough to use our bodies. They want to feed off real emotions.”

“Yeah, my rider got pissed at me when I got bored sucking that cowboy’s cock.”

This time Carol’s laughter was heartfelt. It was a sound I could grow to like.

Carol, still smiling, offered me a towel as I stepped out of the shower. Before I could take it from her I saw the change in her eyes.

She tilted her head to one side, just like she’d done on the first day, then she looked down between my legs.

“No ewection for Twinity?”

It was a little girl voice that I might once have found naughty but that now just seemed wrong.

She reached out for my cock but I stepped back.

“Aw, doesn’t Jimmy want to play with lickle Twinity?” she said, dropping to her knees in front of me. The alien kept Carol’s eyes on me as she slid one finger down her belly and between her legs.

“Mmmmm, Twinity’s all wet” she said, biting her lip.

God help me but my cock began to thicken and I had no alien to blame that on.

The doorbell chimed. Trinity bounced to her feet. “Never mind, Twinty has a new fwend to play with now”.

I followed Trinity to the door, forgetting my own nakedness until I saw the wide-eyed stare of the immensely fat middle-aged woman who stood in the doorway.

“Come in, Heather. I’ve been waiting for you,” Trinity said, all trace of her child parody gone.

Heather waddled into the room.

“Heeeeere’s Johnny,” the Nicholson Alien said in my head. “So Trinity landed the big one. Christ, having her would be like fucking a whale: humping a Humpback, harpooning the Great White.”

I was beginning to go off Jack Nicholson.

“Aw now, why’d ya have to think a thing like that, Jimbo? That’s not a nice thing to think. Now I gotta do something about it. It’s all about respect, kid.”

I’m not sure who was most alarmed by my cock slapping up against my belly, me or Heather. She took a step back and bumped into the wall. The plaster cracked.

“Don’t worry about Jimmy,” Trinity said, “He’s going out to play. You’re all mine, Heather.”

Trinity’s’ head was level with Heather’s avalanche of a bosom. She pushed her face into the soft slopes and let one hand try to find a gap between heather’s massive thighs. Heather looked uncomfortable with me watching, but I could see her nipples rise beneath the T-shirt tent she was wearing.

“Open wider, Heather. I promised you my whole fist,” Trinity said.

Heather sagged against the wall. Her eyes widened as Trinity pushed home, then Heather moaned. I remembered moaning like that. The mating call of the terminally frustrated.

“There she blows!” Jack quipped in my ear.

My hand slapped Trinity on the rump and then I returned to the bedroom to get dressed.

“You’re gonna like this Jimbo, you’re gonna like it a lot,” Jack said. “We’re gonna see a young neighbour of yours. I always had a hard spot for the girl next door, if ya know what I mean?

Jack took a detour to Trinity’s bedroom on the way out. Heather was naked apart from the leather straps tying her to the bed and the ballgag in her mouth. Trinity was lubing the largest strap-on I’d ever seen.

“Glad to see your getting her used to a man my size, Trin,” I heard myself say. “We’ll come back after the remodelling.”

Trinity gave us the finger then buried the strap-on between Heather’s legs. We stayed long enough for me to know that Heather literally rippled when she struggled in her bonds. Even without the alien’s gift of total recall that was a sight it would have been impossible to forget.

Before Sonia had become my neighbour, my apartment hadn’t had much of view – who wants to look across a junk-filled courtyard at the other side of your own building? Once she started doing her exercise routine with her windows open, I found the view much more compelling.

According to the concierge, Sonia was twenty-three and recently divorced. My guess was that she was used to a whole lot more sex than single life was bringing her and she was using her aerobics either to sweat off her lust or attract someone-else to enjoy it with.

If I’d been younger and fitter I might even have believed that her displays were intended for my consumption. She’d smiled at me a couple of times in the lobby, and once I’d carried her groceries up for her, she’d offered me coffee but I was late for a chatroom meeting so I made my excuses. OK, so sometimes I did Homer Simpson impersonations.

I liked Sonia, she smiled a lot and seemed full of life. Of course that hadn’t stopped me from whacking off while I watched her aerobics routine from my darkened room but that didn’t make me a bad person did it?

Now the aliens had brought me back to my old building, intent on helping me fuck Sonia and my main response wasn’t excitement but fear. I knew the aliens liked my fear. I wondered if they wanted to enjoy Sonia’s fear as well

In my minds eye, the aliens had transformed my sagging fourty-two year old body beyond recognition but the concierge just nodded at me as the aliens herded me through the lobby. “You had a self-image problem, Jimbo,” Jack said, “Plus you were a whining spineless excuse for a man. Now we’ll show you how a real man gets some pussy.”

Pussy. How often had I whispered that word to myself as I flicked through porn? Maybe I’d even said it to myself while I watched Sonia do her pelvic floor exercises – “look at the pussy on that”. It’s one of those things you say to get yourself excited but I’d never said it the way Jack said it in my head. Jack’s version was a sort of verbal leer that said “been there, had that, let’s make it bleed next time.”

Sonia was wearing a shot dress and a big smile when she opened the door.

“Jim, what a surprise. Wow have you been working out – you’re looking buff.”

“See Jimbo, she likes ya.” Jack said in my head. My hand ran through my hair and I leant against Sonia’s door frame with a grin on my face.

“Wanna feel my muscles, Babe?”

Sonia’s smile faded. She took a step back, unable to close the door without slamming it against me.

“What do you want, Jim?” She sounded a little nervous. With more insight than I would once have been capable of, I wondered if her husband had ever hit her.

“Me?” I said, stepping into the room and closing the door. Sonia, who was stepping backwards, bumped into the hallway wall. “What do I want?” I put one hand on the wall and leant in close, blocking her escape. “I want you.”

Tears appeared in Sonia’s eyes. She was looking at me like I was a walking nightmare.

“I want this,” I said cupping her left breast, “And this,” licking the flat of my tongue up her cheek.

I stepped back and she turned to move. My hand grasped her throat and held her in place against the wall.

“But mostly,” I said unzipping my jeans and tugging out my erection, “I want to fuck every hole you’ve got and maybe drill some new ones.”

Sonia’s kick caught me in the balls. The pain screamed through me but the alien ignored it and punched Sonia in the belly. Then he squeezed her throat until she lost consciousness.

“You guys are so easy to break,” Jack said. “No wonder you reproduce so much.”

My body was my prison now. There was no escape. Helpless, I picked Sonia up and carried her into the bathroom. I ripped her dress off and used strips of it to tie her wrists to the towel rail. She was crumpled unconscious against the wall. I kicked her legs open, then ripped off the thong. Somehow leaving the bra on just made her look more helpless.

“Your not with the program Jim.” Jack said in my head. “What about all those rape stories you used to read, ‘Miss Cocktease gets hers.’ or ‘The taming of the bitch’. They used to make you come. Now’s your chance to do it for real.”

My hand was working the shaft of my erection just in front of Sonia’s face.

“Feels good, doesn’t it Jim?”

And it did feel good. Since the aliens altered me, stroking my cock always felt amazingly good. Soon I would come on Sonia’s face.

“Tell you what Jimbo, I’m gonna give you back control here. If you whack off into little Sonia’s eyes we’ll let you go home and no harm done. If you don’t, we’ll take control back and fuck her so hard she’ll bleed for a month.”

Suddenly the alien was gone. My cock was still begging for release but I was free. Sonia was starting to come round, any second now she would be looking up at me. I had to make a decision: come on her face and save her or hold back and blame the aliens for the hours of abuse she would suffer.

Sonia’s eyes opened. She looked at me not with terror but with hate.

I ran.

I made it as far as the door before the aliens stopped me.

“Mr O’Hara.”

It was Picard only in his Borg incarnation, Locutus.

“You should know by now that resistance is futile. You have been assimilated.”

I turned back towards the bathroom, my cock quivering in front of me. That’s when I started to cry. Tears streamed down my face. I was going to fuck Sonia. I was going to do all the things that I’d ever dreamed of doing to her. I was going to remember it all forever. I wanted to die.

“Delicious,* Hannibal said, then I was alone.

I waited a second, sure they would come back.

Sonia struggled out of the bathroom, the towel rail in her hands. Her rage when she saw me standing there was so violent and ugly, I wondered if the aliens had occupied her. She let out a howl and ran at me, wielding the towel rail like a club.

Maybe I should have tried to tell her that it wasn’t me, it was the voices in my head that made me do it. Maybe a braver man would have let himself be clubbed to death. I ran. I ran down the stairs. I ran out of the building. I ran until I had to stop in an alley and puke my guts up.

I sat in the alley staring up at the clouded sky, glad of the cold indifference of the rain.

I could never go home now, Sonia would have me arrested.

I could leave town and hope the aliens wouldn’t follow me.

I could throw myself in front of a subway train.

Or, I could go back to Trinity’s and live forever.

When I reached the apartment, Carol opened the door. She didn’t say anything, she just wrapped her arms around me. It wasn’t much but it was all we had, small moments of humanity. Maybe it was all we had ever had.

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© Mike Kimera 2003 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

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A story without a reader is incomplete. Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment below.

The Way of the Courtesan : Chapter 5 : Ravier and Jenna

Ravier needed to fuck. He had spent the whole morning struggling to control his arousal. Being locked in a small Transport with Rachel had been almost unbearable. He could hear his own blood roaring in his ears, calling on him to leap on Rachel and devour her. Even his men had been visibly affected. The pressure had eased when Sabine lead Rachel away to prepare her for the ritual but his cock was still thick against his thigh.

He turned his gaze to Jenna and a grin spread across his face. It was a requirement that the Sponsor of a Courtesan should have rigorous sex before the blessing; it demonstrated his trust that the Founder would give him the strength to carry out his role in the ritual. Sabine had given him Jenna to carry out this tradition.

Jenna was dressed as a handmaiden, available for Ravier’s pleasure, but it was clear to him that Jenna was more than that. The Brotherhood did not publicise the existence of female assassins but Ravier’s father had sometimes used them and Ravier recognised the signs; Jenna’s gait, the development of her muscles, the lack of fear in her eyes, were all warning signs to him.  He doubted that Sabine would harm him in her own House, but it was possible that Jenna was working for someone-else.

“Strip,” he said to Jenna.

“Here, my Lord?”

He was sure that Jenna meant to look coy, pretending to be shocked at the idea of being naked in a public place, but she didn’t quite manage to hide her amusement.

Ravier slapped her across the face with the flat of his hand. He saw the fighter’s reflex start and then be subdued. Jenna could have avoided the blow. She had let him hit her.

“Of course, my Lord,” Jenna said. She kept eye contact with him as she undid the fastenings at her shoulders and let the robe drop to her feet.

Ravier’s cock pulsed. Her body was all hard curves and smooth flesh. It was a canvas he wanted to paint with pain.

“Put your hands on your head and turn around in a circle.”

Jenna moved slowly, displaying herself to him and his men. She knew she was being searched for weapons. They both knew that she was lethal even without a blade.

“Tie her hands behind her back.”

Two of Ravier’s men held Jenna’s arms. They pressed themselves against her while their comrade worked cruel knots to bind her wrists.

“Bring her,” Ravier said and strode towards the tent Sabine had prepared for him.

Jenna was forced to her knees in front of Ravier. His men stayed at the perimeter of the tent. They should have been guarding him but that seemed pointless when the main threat was already amongst them.

Ravier released himself from his trousers. His cock felt hot in his hand. His balls hung heavily. He pressed against Jenna’s mouth and pushed his cock inside. She grinned around his flesh and pushed herself forward, forcing her head further down his shaft. Ravier lost himself to it then, holding her head, ploughing her mouth. No subtly, just haste. Even as he came he was thinking of Rachel: Rachel spread on the horse, Rachel with his sperm on her face and hair, Rachel being carried naked and exhausted in his arms. It was all he could do not to cry out her name.

He came inside Jenna and then pushed her roughly away. His three Security looked at her as if they would tear her apart. Ravier didn’t want that. He wasn’t completely certain they would all survive it.

“Get women and wine for my men”, he shouted. Invisible listeners met his needs. Sabine knew how to keep men happy; within minutes there were six women in the tent. Ravier sat in a field-chair and watched his men take their pleasure.  At first they dived in like starving men. Like him they were still riding the erotic wake Rachel seemed to leave behind her. A few minutes later, after the first come, they slowed down and started swapping the women, commenting on this one’s tightness or that one’s nipples.

Ravier’s mind returned to Rachel, playing with images of her being painted in preparation for the ritual. He wondered what Sabine was saying to her, hoping that it was enough to keep her safe and not so much as to corrupt her entirely.

He ignored Jenna, waiting to see what her next move would be. She had stayed on her knees, watching him watch his men fuck. Now she crawled back to him on her knees, her hands still bound behind her. He didn’t remember giving her the bruise on her face but he smiled to see it there.

Jenna kissed his feet and then slid her breasts up his shin and rubbed her face along his thigh. It was an impressive display of muscle control. With her lips pressed against his balls and his wet cock lolling on her forehead, she looked up and said, “If you will risk untying me, my Lord, I will show you how skilled my hands are.”

For the first time in days, Ravier laughed. He pulled a knife from his boot and sliced through her bonds, leaving a rope bracelet around each wrist because he liked the look.

Jenna sucked one of Ravier’s balls into her mouth and moved her head backwards, pulling him just hard enough to give him a little pain. Before Ravier could place his knife at her throat, she released him, smiled and said, “Thank you, my Lord.”

Ravier kept the knife level with her face but raised his hips enough to let Jenna pull his leather trousers down to his knees. Part of his mind was clammering for his attention, saying “she’s hobbled you and you’ve cut her free. Your men are busy. This is when you die.”  Ravier’s cock stirred at the thought.

Jenna shook her shoulders and rotated her wrists, still on her knees. Ravier watched the movement of her breasts and only saw her arm flick forward a second before her left hand gripped the base of his ball sack.

She squeezed, hard enough to make him breathe in but not hard enough to hurt. She had his full attention now. She smiled, no longer demure, and slid the fingers of her right hand into her cunt. Still frigging herself, she leant forward and rubbed her face against Ravier’s stiffening cock.

Ravier ran the edge of his blade along Jenna’s shoulder, not breaking the skin; just reminding her of how quickly she could die. She turned her face toward the blade and ran her tongue along the sharp edge. Blood flowed from the shallow cut, dripping over her chin and down on to her breasts. Ravier’s cock twitched to full attention.

Jenna released Ravier’s balls, turned away from him and with deliberate slowness, placed her cheek on the floor, her arse in the air and pulled herself open for him. She licked her lips, sucking in the blood, slid her hands across the smooth curve of her arse and pushed one finger all the way into her ring.

“My Lady thought it wise to make sure I was oiled for you, my Lord. She says that the pain is more than worth it. Is she right?

Ravier slid to the floor, kneeling behind Jenna. The blow he delivered to her was so hard it made his men look up from their fucking. The women servicing them flinched as a second, harder blow landed on Jenna’s arse.

“Lady Sabine is always right. Her handmaiden should know this.”

“I do, my Lord I do,” Jenna said wiggling her reddening arse from side to side. “Let me please you, my Lord. I can make it memorable if you will let me.”

Ravier had had many, many women. Few of them had proved memorable.  But then, he’d never taken an assassin before. Ravier’s cock didn’t care about what would be remembered, only about what would happen right now. As brutally as he could, Ravier forced himself into Jenna’s arse. She was tight and smooth. Then she surprised him. She pushed her hand into her cunt and stroked his cock, pressing it, pushing it, teasing it. There was no question of him withdrawing. Every moved she made was to take him deeper and keep him there. When he was pressed up against her arse with her fingers strumming the head of his cock, she tightened her ring.

If Ravier had believed in sorcery, he would have taken this as evidence of it. Her muscle gripped him like a bite and then let go. Then gripped. Then let go. He was being milked into her bowels. He tried to pull out but she would not release him. He was like a dog locked into a bitch. So he treated her like a bitch. He bent over her back, dug his fingers into her breasts and bit her neck. He came at the first taste of blood. She released him only after she had sucked out the last drop of his sperm.

When he rolled off her, breathless, dizzy, he realised that his men and the women they were using were looking at him. They all had the same look in their eyes, lust spiced with envy.

Jenna was the only person in the tent who was still calm and composed. She knelt in front of Ravier, naked, stained with blood and cum, hair wet with sweat, smiled at him demurely, bowed her head and said, “Thank you my Lord. It was a pleasure to serve. May I prepare you for the ritual now?”

Ravier decided that Jenna was memorable. She had even managed to make him forget Rachel for a while. The mention of the ritual brought her back into his mind. He was spent. His cock hung limp and useless between his legs. It was time to display himself to the public. He stripped off his clothes and headed out into the courtyard, Jenna following politely two steps behind him.

Ravier stood at the centre of the dais and let Jenna begin her work. A crowd had formed to witness the blessing. A path had been kept clear from the gateway at the far side of the courtyard to the dais. Rachel would enter along that path. Ravier focused his vision on the gateway while Jenna chanted and worked on his flesh. He wanted to see Rachel the moment she entered the courtyard.

A tingling warmth spread up Ravier’s spine. He felt his cock unfurl like a fern in the morning sun. The crowd murmured their appreciation.

“You are ready, my Lord,” Jenna said, “The young Lady will be truly blessed.”

The edge of amusement to her voice told Ravier that, even though she was kneeling naked before him, with his sperm leaking from her, and her face coloured by the bruises he had given her, she still proud almost to the point of defiance.

Ravier controlled the impulse to hit Jenna again. He wanted to look imposing and powerful; the embodiment of the Founder; hitting Jenna might make him look petulant. He reminded himself that the crowd had not heard Jenna’s tone. All they could see was a naked servant carrying out her role in the ceremony, staring devoutly at his erection.

The erection was substantial. His cock was so hard it slapped up against his belly, belying the fact that he had come twice within the past half hour. The tip was swollen and had a purple hue to it, every vein along his shaft was sharply defined, but what caught the eye was the calligraphy. Jenna had painted the Founder’s blessing in gold luminescent ink in a spiral around his cock: “Blessed is he who stands firm in the service of the Founder”.

According to tradition, the strength of Ravier’s erection was a measure of his favour with the Founder, a blessing that he would pass on to the Supplicant Courtesan on the Founder’s behalf.

Ravier did not believe in that kind of magic. He knew that the real source of this blessing was the ink that Jenna had used. It contained a chemical, absorbed through the skin, which altered the flow of his blood, engorging him almost to the point of pain. He would stay hard for a long time now and, because of his recent activity, he would only come under severe provocation. He returned his gaze to the gateway and waited for provocation to arrive.

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© Mike Kimera 2001 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

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A story without a reader is incomplete. Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment below.

American Holidays 3 : Labor Day

In Europe, the equivalent holidays to Labor Day, those that celebrate the worker, are held in the beginning of May, at the start of the Summer. They are still strongly associated with Trade Unions in many countries.

My understanding is that, in the US, Labor Day is seem more as an end to the Summer and has lost most of its links with celebrating workers. It is a time when people start again after the Summer break. I decided that this story should be about endings and beginings, in the same way that the holiday is. Here we get a closer look at Barbara and at the impact of the threesome on Memorial Day on Peter and Helen.

Labor Day

“You OK?”

The concern in Peter’s voice makes me smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just taking a moment you know?”

His stillness in the doorway calms me.

I stand, check my hair in the mirror and say, “I’ll be out in a minute and I’ll be the life and soul of the party, honest. After all, it’s a holiday right?”

He says, “You’ve done the right thing Barbara,” like it’s not a non-sequitor. Then he leaves.

I hope I’ve done the right thing. I hope it with all my heart.

There has been so much change in my life, in such a short time, that I feel giddy. I sit back down, composing myself, staring at the woman in the mirror, looking for signs that she has changed.

When I was a child I used to love to play blindman’s bluff; to be blindfolded and turned round and round and round until all sense of directions was lost and the only way left was forward, into the arms of whomever I could catch. These past months I’ve been playing that game with my life. Now it’s time to take off the blindfold and seize what I have found.

God, I sound like some New-Ager peddling re-birthing seminars. How Mark would laugh at that. I can imagine the ‘commercial break’ voice in which he would say, “Tired of the old you? Give birth to a new and improved one after only five days at our woodland retreat!”

I’ve always sneered at the idea of such fundamental change. You are who you are. You don’t suddenly become someone else. But maybe, sometimes, we settle for not being all of who we are. We shut down the parts that don’t fit. We grow, but we grow stunted, like plants raised in a too-small pot. At the beginning of the summer it came to me that my life had become pot-bound. So I smashed the pot.

God knows, Mark had already put a few cracks in it, with his serial seductions of silly girls. But in the end it was me, not him, who shattered our marriage beyond hope of repair.

When he abandoned me, in the middle of a Memorial Day BarBQ with our best friends, so that he could go and fuck his latest Barbie, everything suddenly changed. I didn’t get angry. I got cold and still and then I cracked, like an iceberg snapping off from a glacier and sliding into the sea. One moment Mark and I were connected, the next we were separated by an unbridgeable stretch of despair and disappointment.

I think I might have frozen forever on that day. Gone into shock and never come out. But Helen and Peter rescued me, right there and then. They took me into their hearts and, for a while, into their bed. I know that sounds bizarre and weird, but it didn’t feel that way. I’ve known them both forever and I love them in my way. Helen, so brave and fierce and full of energy. Peter, her rock, her keel, always there for her, always calm and true. Being with them felt like coming home. Like rejoining my family. Except, of course, I don’t fuck my family.

But now it’s time to leave. The summer, that started so badly, is coming to an end. It’s Labor Day today. Helen and Peter are having a little party to wish me well in my new job in big bad Chicago. All my friends are waiting out there and yet I can’t bring myself to leave this room which has been my refuge from having to deal with the reality of divorcing Mark and learning to live on my own.

I know I should despise Mark. Everybody else does. But I can’t. He’s weak not wicked. I know all about being weak. I was weak for years. In a way, my whole married life was a result of weakness.

I let Mark marry me because he wanted it so much. He was the first man in a long time to see past the cloak of invisibility I had wrapped myself in. The dowdy clothes, the shyness, the lack of makeup, didn’t put him off. He wanted me and he wanted to please me. That was flattering. He found ways to make me laugh. That was endearing. And he was always there, like a faithful hound waiting to be taken for a walk. All I had to do was look at him for his tail to start to wag. That, in the end, turned out to be irresistible.

It’s not that I didn’t love Mark, I did. I still do. But the thought of him never made me wet. When we kissed it was nice rather than good. When we fucked it was urgent rather than potent. I told myself that things would get better; that we would learn how to please each other; that we had plenty of time. But that isn’t how it worked out. Things got worse, not better. We never talked about it, but it was always with us; an absence of the passion that should have made our marriage grow.

In the end, that absence became the center of our marriage. We walked around the hole it left in our lives every day, until it became our habit to circumnavigate sex, at least with each other. Mark found solace in sport-fucking shallow, undemanding women. I let my fingers release what I couldn’t suppress.

I wonder sometimes if things would have been different if I’d been a virgin when I married Mark. But I wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Todd had seen to that.

“You thinking of Mark?” Helen says, “You look upset.”

I didn’t hear her come in. I knew she would want to see me alone before I left. I have, I realize, been avoiding it. Now she is here, looking at me in the mirror, and I can’t read the expression on her face. She can do that sometimes; just switch her face to neutral. It’s disturbing because she is normally so expressive. Mark christened her ‘Helen, the face that launched a thousand quips.’

“Actually, I was thinking of Todd,” I say.

“Todd the impaler? What brought him to mind?” Helen moves closer to me. Her face has softened a bit. She knows Todd is a difficult subject for me.

“I was wondering if being with him screwed up my marriage.”

My voice sounds like I’m on the edge of crying. I didn’t expect that. I hate that I cry so easily.

Helen is smaller than me. When she hugs me, I have to bend slightly to put my head on her shoulder. She leads me to the bed and we sit for a moment, next to one another. She holds both my hands within hers and suddenly, I see her as she was when we were both in our first year in college.

She was my first adult female friend. She told me everything about herself. No embarrassment. No restraints. It was infectious. And one night, when we were sitting on her bed in her room, I started to tell her about Todd. I hadn’t told anyone about Todd. She let me talk. For hours. I think that Helen performed an exorcism that night.

When I had finished she said to me, “You are a good person.” It felt like a blessing.

If I had been prettier earlier, I would never have gone with Todd. Up to my senior year in high school, I was the invisible girl. The one everyone wrote, “I hope you have a great summer” to when they signed my yearbook, trying to remember who the hell I was.

The summer before my senior year I had a growth spurt. I grew three  inches, lost some weight, and acquired a waist and hips. Suddenly I had long legs and a good ass. Barbara the boring became Babs the beautiful over night.

My mother was so pleased, that she bought me outfit after outfit. “I’ve been waiting to take you shopping for such a long time,” she said. In the store I became the center of attention. My legs were applauded and I was encouraged to buy skirts that would display them. I went back to school feeling wonderful.

It didn’t last long. I’d broken one of the prime rules of High School: I’d tried to move out of the slot that my peers had allocated to me. My best friend, Alice, felt slighted by my new look. My studymate, Carl, suddenly became tongue tied and uncomfortable. But the toughest reaction came from the wannabe-prom-queens. They started to call me Babs the Booty. The said I looked like a slut. But I wouldn’t give in. I wouldn’t sacrifice the look of pride on my mother’s face just to fit in in High School.

So now I looked good but no one talked to me. Then the boys found me. They weren’t bad boys. They were polite and nice and muscular and I ached for them. I hadn’t dated much so I wasn’t really sure what to do. I knew enough not to fuck on the first date. But the second seemed reasonable. And the boys wanted it so badly. And they were so nice to me. And besides, the sex was good. Sometimes very good.

I was Barbara the Queen Bee, surrounded by a group of adoring drone-boys. We went everywhere together. We had fun. And at the end of the evening one of them would take me home and on the way we would park and I would find out one more time just how good it felt to ride a fresh strong cock.

Looking back now, I think I went a little crazy for a while. The thinking me was switched off. I stopped being shy and introverted and tried hard to live in the now. The now where I was beautiful and the boys were eager. I was aware that they didn’t love me. I knew I didn’t love them. But it felt so damned good.

I’d been Queen Bee for about a month when Todd Rawlins showed up. Todd was two years older than me and had been the star of our football team in his senior year. If it hadn’t been for a knee injury, Todd would have made it to college on a sports scholarship. Instead he was working at his daddy’s Chrysler dealership.

Every girl in school knew three things about Todd: he drove a brand new LeBaron Convertible, he partied hard and he had the biggest dick in town. One Friday night the drones and I were coming out of the bowling alley and I was teasing them about who would get to drive me home, when Todd pulled up next to us in his killer car. No ‘hello’s. No ‘baby you look good’s. He just said, “Get in,” and I did.

Once we were away from the boys, Todd was nicer to me. He told me how he’d heard that I’d become hot and said he’d decided he had to take a look for himself. I asked him if he liked what he saw. He told me that, he hadn’t seen it all yet and that he’d let me know later.

In a way I was still a virgin until Todd fucked me. I mean, I’d had sex, lots of it, but I’d never been possessed by it. Never had it take over my whole mind until I was just a set of nerve endings surfing on wave after wave of orgasm.

That first time, he took me to woods and we parked. He led me out of the car and made me sit on the hood.

“I got something for you, baby and you’re gonna like it a lot,” he said.

I nearly laughed at that, but realized in time that no joke was intended.

Then Todd unzipped and took out his dick. It wasn’t fully hard yet but it was already bigger than most of the cocks I’d had inside me. My cunt contracted and my mouth went dry. I wanted to see it stand and I wanted to feel it stretch me. That dick of his brought out desires that I didn’t even know I had.

“Told you you’d like it,” he said, “they all do.”

I wasn’t listening. I was spreading my legs and pushing my panties aside and staring at his dick and wondering if it would tear me. There may have been a small voice saying ‘why are you fucking this dick’, but even if I had heard it, my only answer would have been ‘because it’s there! Now shut up bitch and let me fuck.’

The first fuck, he just grabbed me by the back of the knees, spread me so wide that it hurt and rammed it home. Nothing had ever made me feel so full. It hurt but it hurt good. He pounded away at me so hard I thought we’d dent the car. I was breathless and stunned. Not ready to orgasm yet; still amazed at how full I felt; almost afraid to move in case I hurt something.

Then he came and I thought ‘Shit no, not yet!’

I must have said some of that aloud because Todd grinned at me and said, “We ain’t done yet, baby. You feel anything getting smaller down there? All we’ve done is get you nice and lubed.”

It was true. He’d come, but he was still hard. I pushed against him gratefully, eager to chase my orgasm. But he pulled out.

“Time to say hello properly, baby,” he said.

I didn’t know what he meant.

He stepped back from the car and said “On your knees, baby. Come and show Mr. Pecker here your deep appreciation.”

I wish I had laughed then. I wish I had told him and Mr. Pecker to fuck off. But I didn’t. I got on my knees and I took him in my mouth. It was bitter tasting and unpleasant but sort of compelling at the same time. There was just so damned much of it.

I didn’t have a lot of experience with giving head. The drones and I had skipped that part and gone straight for the main course. It must have showed.

Todd said “Jesus girl, mind those teeth,” and took Mr. Pecker away from me.

I thought it was all over then, but Todd wasn’t done. He bent me over his car and took me doggy style. You wouldn’t believe how deep he could get like that. And he was slow now. No hurry at all. It went on and on. He made me come the first time just from the way his cock moved. The second time he got me there by working on my clit while still going with that slow deep stretching in and out movement. My third orgasm was triggered when he spurted inside me.

My legs were shaking when he pulled out. I couldn’t move off the hood of his car, even though I could feel his cum running down my thigh. I’d never come three times one after another like that. My mind had gone away completely, a bit like the way you lose your hearing after a gun goes off. I wanted to sleep right there.

Todd guided me back into the car. We drove to my house in silence. I don’t think I could have talked even if I’d wanted to. When we reached my house, Todd just waited for me to get out.

I struggled onto the curb and he said, “You have a great cunt, baby, but you’ve really gotta learn to give head. See you tomorrow.”

Then he drove off.

I lay on my bed thinking about what had happened. It was shameful. I knew that. Todd was using me and I was letting him. My cunt was sore. My legs ached. My pride wanted to say, ‘Screw you, Todd Rawlins.’ I fell asleep still undecided about whether to see him again.

I was late for school the next day. By the time I got there, everyone seemed to know I was one of Todd’s girls. Not Todd’s girl. Just one of them. The drone-boys all found reasons not to be available that night. My ex-best friend told me I should be ashamed of myself.

After school, Todd was there with his shiny car and his big smile. We did it all again. The only difference was that I nearly threw up on him when he tried to push Mr. Pecker down my throat.

At the time it seemed to me I was out of options. I couldn’t go back and I didn’t know how to go forward so I just let Todd go on fucking me. It lasted a whole month.

My cunt was sore by then. My mind was working loose from the corner I’d tied her up in and was shouting ‘stop this nonsense right now, young lady.’ I gagged her because I didn’t want to hear it.

It ended when Todd called me and asked me to come over to his house. He said his parents were away and he wanted to show me something special.

I went because I couldn’t figure out how to say no.

When I got there the door was open so I went into the family room. Todd was on the big sofa watching a porno movie. Amy Shanks, universally known at school as Amy Skanks, was on her knees sucking his dick. I must have just stood there looking stunned.

Todd said “Hi, baby. This is what I wanted to show you.” Then he turned to Amy and said “Do it, baby.”

Amy looked at me. She held eye-contact while she lowered her mouth on to Todd’s dick. She swallowed it. All of it. It made her throat bulge but it she swallowed it all. Todd placed his hand on the back of her head and started to move her up and down on his dick.

“Amazing isn’t it?” Todd said. “And Amy here is gonna show you how it’s done. Come on over, baby and get a better look.”

My mind finally broke free of her bonds and all I heard was her shouting ‘Run, Barbara and don’t stop until you’re home in bed’.

I don’t remember getting home. I don’t remember anything until I woke up the next day. Then it all hit me. I was a slut. I had been a slut for months. Everybody but me knew that. And my grades. My grades had seemed so unimportant while I was slutting around but now I knew that they were dropping enough to put college at risk. I stayed in bed all day. And the next day.

Finally I told my Mom that there was a problem at school but I didn’t want to talk about it. I think maybe some the neighbors had already been talking about it, because Mom quickly sorted things out without any questions. She arranged private tuition to rescue my grades. I worked hard. I made it to college.

But I still had a secret. The secret was that I had wanted to be fucked like that. I’d enjoyed it. I wanted more of it.

My mind was firmly back in control now and she tried hard to banish Miss Libido. She made me dress in baggy clothes and to stop even talking to boys. I became invisible again. But at night, before I fell asleep, my fingers would find my cunt and I would think of Todd and wonder if I would ever find anyone who could make me come like that ever again.

Helen is waiting for me to tell her what’s on my mind.

I manage a smile.

“Remember when we talked about Todd that night? You were wonderful. And then you introduced me to Mark,” I say.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Helen says, “He seemed like a nice guy at the time.”

“He was a nice guy at the time.”

We are both smiling now and I can finally say to Helen the thing that needs to be said.

“Helen, about Peter…”

Helen’s smile goes. I feel her stiffen.

“I’m so sorry,” I say.

“It’s over now,” Helen says. She removes her hands from mine but manages a smile that almost reaches her eyes. “No harm done,” she says, moving towards the door. “Now stop moping and come and join the party.”

No harm done. I hope that’s true.

The day Mark left me, the day when I could have shriveled up and nursed my sense of worthlessness, Helen rescued me. She knew that I was attracted to Peter. She’d told me that he was a little in love with me. We’d laughed about that. Imagine quiet Peter harboring a passion for Barbara. That was back when Helen and I would trade stories about our husbands. When I still felt married. Before the lack of passion in my life made me feel dried up and useless and unlovable.

By the time I reached that Memorial Day BarBQ it was painful for me to watch Helen and Peter together. I was like a starving beggar pressing my face against the window of a restaurant, tormented by the sight of food but unable to look away.

When Mark left the BarBQ with some insultingly see-through excuse, I headed back to the cabin to cry and to feel sorry for myself.

Barbara stopped me. She spoke softly. What she said surprised me. “We love you Barbara. You deserve better. Let us care for you. Let me share Peter with you. Be with us for a while.”

I could tell that she was sincere and that what she was saying wasn’t springing spontaneously into head. I knew what ‘share Peter’ meant. Something in the way that Helen said it left no doubt.

Above all else, this felt like an act of friendship. I accepted it, my numb distress starting to be replaced by a sense of dislocation from reality.

The sex was fun.

Helen likes to tie Peter. I’d known that for a long time. Mark was always going on about how odd that was and how Helen ‘had Peter’s Pecker in her pocket.’ I couldn’t quite imagine it.

That night, Helen tied and blindfolded Peter and then we both… played with him. My memory of it is so clear. Time slowed down. I tried not to look at Helen. I was at such a high level of awareness that reality was too vivid to be anything but a dream. Peter surrendered himself to us. We took him in turns, never speaking, always preserving the convention that it could have been just the two of them in the room. But we all knew. And we all wanted it.

My orgasm was like a return to sanity. It sounds an extravagant claim, but it healed me. I felt, for the first time in a very long time, happy.

I moved in with Helen and Peter after that. I had my own room. There was no more sharing. But there was love and support and a space to learn to be me again.

Things might have been fine if the walls had been thicker, or if Helen had been less noisy when she came, or if Peter had not been just a little in love with me. I lay there at night and listened to them having sex. I could tell they were trying to be quiet, but there would always be that last moment in which Helen lost control. I would close my eyes and try to remember Peter being inside me. I would try to come when Helen came.

After a while we all started to become less comfortable with each other in the mornings. We took care to dress before coming down for breakfast. I tried not to watch Peter’s every move. I tried not to yearn for him. I failed.

Later Peter told me that he couldn’t get me out of his head. He said the blindfold had meant that he was never sure when it was me and when it was Helen he was with. He felt like he should have been able to tell. He felt like he wanted to experience the difference.

One evening, Helen went to fix us some drinks. While she was out of the room Peter and I accidentally looked into each other’s eyes. We’d each being trying to sneak a quick look at the other. We were still looking at each other when Helen came back. We broke contact guiltily. Helen just stood there. No one spoke.

I wanted to leave or to apologize. I felt as if she had walked in on us fucking.

Helen handed us both a drink. Then she said “It’s Ok. Really. I’ll sleep in the other room tonight.”

Peter started to rise from his chair to protest. Helen stopped him with a glance that I couldn’t read but which brought him to a complete halt. Then she was gone. She took my room.

I was standing too now, staring at the closed door between Helen and us.

Peter and I turned towards each other. I was uncertain. I wanted Peter. Really wanted him. He was so close and so alive that I thought sparks might jump the small gap between us.

I reached up and stroked the side of his face. He was very still. I kissed him.

It was as I had imagined it. Soft lips. Warm. Accepting. Except that it felt wrong. It felt like betrayal.

Peter didn’t kiss me back but he didn’t resist. I know that if I had continued he would have let me. To please me. To please Helen. But I stopped.

Still we didn’t speak. I took Peter by the hand and led him, quietly, into my room. Helen was curled up in a ball facing the wall. She didn’t hear us come in. I said her name. She turned and looked at both of us. There were tears in her eyes. I held Peter’s hand out to her. She jumped up off the bed and hugged him. When I left, they were kissing fiercely, as if they were sucking in oxygen after almost drowning. I went for a drive. They were in their room when I came back and everything was quiet.

The next morning I declared my intent to look for a job. Here I am, five weeks later, ready to move to one.

“B. Are you in there, B? Come out, come out wherever you are.” It is Mark’s voice calling from the garden. He sounds drunk. I rush out. The last time he and Peter met there was trouble. I expect to see Peter dragging Mark away, but it is Helen, little Helen, who is blocking Mark’s path.

“B. Please, B.”

I put my hand on Helen’s shoulder and she lets me step in front of her. She continues to glare at Mark.

“B, I’m drunk. I’m sorry I’m drunk but I’ve got something important to say to you.”

Mark looks ill. His clothes are dirty and his complexion is pale. I wonder how long he has been drunk this time.

He staggers towards me, reaching for me. I stay still and he stops short.

“I know you’re going away. The lawyer told me. I want to tell you… to say… to let you know that I love you, B. I’ve always loved you.”

He was crying now. He looked lost. I assumed his nympho intern had left him. He looks like he wants me to take him in my arms as I have so many times before.

Everybody at the party is looking at us. I step forward so that I can speak directly into Mark’s ear. His arms fold about me as I say, “I know you love me, Mark. I love you. But it will never be enough will it?”

His face turns towards me. He seems suddenly sober. I wait for the tantrum or the insult. Instead he says quietly, “Good luck in your new job, B.” and walks, a little too precisely, towards his car. Helen sends Peter after him to drive him home.

The party doesn’t last long. Mark has taken the edge off it. By the time Peter gets back people are already leaving. It’s getting dark earlier already. Summer is over and Fall, “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” is here.

The last of the guests leaves just before sunset. I stand and watch the slow ignition of the sky. Peter and Helen come and stand on either side of me. I take their hands.

I don’t know who Barbara will become in Chicago. I hope Barbara the Bold, ready to make her own future. But right here and right now, she feels like Barbara the Blessed.

 

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© Mike Kimera 2000 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

 

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Yoshi And The Shibari Cowgirls

The question that plagues me with speculative erotic fiction is what is the driver, the speculative part or the erotic part?

I think the answer is that they should be like two blades of a pair of scissors. An erotic story in space suit doesn’t make it speculative fiction. A great idea with no sexual heat doesn’t make it erotic.

In “Yoshi And The Shibari Cowgirls” sex is at the centre of what has changed in the universe. The role of men is fundamentally different. The impact of this is that sex is also rather unusual but I think it is authentic in the context of the story.

The universe in “Yoshi And The Shibari Cowgirls” is one that I’ve been playing with for a while. I have the outlines for threee more stories set in this environment. Let me know what you think of this.

I’ll post the others here as I complete them.

* 1 *

As I’d been taught, I lifted my mouth from Fem Julia’s labia the moment she touched the back of my head. I stayed kneeling between her thighs, my head close enough for her to feel my breath, my eyes obediently focused on her sex, waiting for her instructions.

It is Fem Julia’s custom to take her pleasure silently but I had enough experience between her thighs to know that she had achieved bliss at least twice before she had asked me to stop. Her outer labia are short and dark and swell prodigiously when she is aroused. On previous occasions, when her mood was right and my timing was fortuitous, I had provoked her into a copious spray of pleasure that had flooded my tongue and nostrils with a slick spicy honey of lust that made my cock shiver with pride. But on this afternoon, although I had been diligent, I had not gained her full attention.

“Thank you, Yoshi. That was very nice.”

The use of my name meant that I could sit back on my heels and look up at her. I noted with pride that her breasts were pink with pleasure.

“Please stand, Yoshi. Let me see your tribute.”

I stood and positioned myself next to the Fem’s head so that she could inspect me without having to sit up. I kept my eyes straight ahead and tried to keep my face dispassionate while she studied my erection. I hoped she would be pleased.

“Yoshi, Yoshi, Yoshi,” she said softly, “My little delight.”

She pulled my erection away from my belly, testing the upward curve of the tip between her thumb and finger.

“Such perfect form in such a small package. Such focused arousal. I have enjoyed you so.”

Later I would wonder if her use of the past tense meant that she knew what would happen later that day. I like to think that she did not. The Fem had always treated me with affection.

But such thoughts were far from me on that day. When Fem Julia ran her thumb across the tip of my cock it was all I could do not to cry out. She smiled up at me, appreciating my control, pulled my cock forward a little and then released it. We both heard it slap up against my flat belly.

“Come over here, Angelus,” Fem Julia said. “Yoshi deserves more than the milking machine today.”

This brought a smile to my face; I was to be allowed a measure of bliss. The milking machines are painless and efficient and there have been times after I have been left too long, either through neglect or as a punishment, when the machine have been a welcome release from the pain of a throbbing cock and swollen balls, but there is no pleasure to be had from them.

Angelus is a handsome man, older than me by a few years, still youthful in appearance, blond and pink, but heavy in the way of neuters. He is Fem Julia’s Secretary and constant companion. All of her orders are channelled through him. I was honoured that such a senior neuter was to pleasure me.

Michael says that neuters resent being used in sport by Fems, especially when they are used to service a potent. He says it is beneath their dignity. I wonder whether perhaps it is because it reminds them of all they cannot be. Whatever the case, Angelus would not meet my eyes as he knelt before me.

Fem Julia rose from her couch and stood behind me. We were the same height, she and I, but she was perhaps twice my weight. She wrapped an arm across my torso, the palm of her hand pressing into my nipple and pulled me back against her. My hands, bound behind me with a small thumb-lock, pressed into the folds of her soft belly. Her large round breasts compressed against my shoulders. I felt safe and valued.

“Today is an important day, Yoshi,” she said quietly into my ear. “We have important guests. I want you relaxed and focused.”

Angelus was positioning the sperm-catcher, thin and incredibly soft, over my glands, so that nothing would be wasted. His touch was light and gentle but it was still almost more than I could bear. When the ‘catcher was secure, Angelus extended his tongue and licked his way down my shaft in one smooth motion. When he sucked my balls into his generous mouth, I closed my eyes to savour my joy.

Without distraction, I would surely have come after only the slightest manipulation by Angelus. I wanted to relish the honour the Fem had paid me so I distracted myself by reviewing Fem Julia’s statements about the day’s importance. We heard little of the outside worlds within the sheltering walls of the House but even I knew that it was the first day of the bicentennial celebrations of the Mothers’ Blessing. Any ship that could would make planet-fall for the festivities. The richest ships would come to Earth and the richest of those would come here, to Fem Julia’s House.

Angelus was managing to hold both of my balls in his mouth, pushing at them with his tongue while working the base of my shaft with his finger and thumb; small, ungentle strokes that made my cock bulge and seemed to demand that I come. To hold off the moment I turned my mind to Michael.

Michael is the newest import to the House. He is old for a potent; more than thirty I think. Old enough that, when I shave his pubis and his head each morning, I can see that the some of the stubble is gray. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. His eyes have the sky in them; his skin is pale to the point of transparency and covered with a galaxy of freckles, too numerous to catalogue. But the most extraordinary thing about his is his voice. When he sings, all the world stops to listen. Fem Julia listens to his voice more often than she uses his body.

Michael is my bondmate; we keep each other clean and presentable. Although it is against the rules of the House, most bondmates also bring each other bliss when they can. Michael does not allow this. On the first opportunity after his arrival, I offered Michael my mouth. I wanted him to feel welcome and, if I’m honest, I wanted him to return the favour.

Michael said, “I don’t need that, Yoshi and neither do you. A man has the right to control his own body; he is more than a pipe of blood-engorged meat.”

This was foolish talk. Everyone knows that a man cannot control his own body; he will turn feral, lose himself in the beat of the rut and be a danger to all who encounter him. I did not want to hear such foolishness so I tried to stifle it by kissing Michael. He was still bound by the thumb-lock but he managed to struggle aside. I lost my balance and fell to my knees in front of him. His cock, which is veined and fat although not very long, was directly in front of me. I could see from the way that it pulsed that it had been more than a day since he had been milked.

“Watch, Yoshi.” he said, “Watch and learn.”

To my astonishment, Michael’s cock softened before me, deflating with the careless grace of a cat settling to sleep. From the evidence of my eyes, Michael could have been a neuter. I could not understand what I was seeing; ever since the Mothers’ Blessing this has been impossible and yet I could see that it was so.

“Don’t be afraid, Yoshi. Watch.”

This time, Michael’s cock unfurled like a fern in the morning sun until it was back before me in all its glory.

“You want to know how it is done, Yoshi. I can teach you. A small modification to your diet, a little training, and you too can do this.”

But Michael was wrong. I hadn’t wanted to know how; I’d wanted to know why. Why would anyone reject the Mothers’ Blessing?

Fem Julia, perhaps sensing that I was stretching the moment, brought me back to the present with a sharp bite on my earlobe. I stiffened in anticipation of what would come next. It was a dangerous, but oh so pleasurable, game.

Angelus had both hands on my shaft now, milking me from base to tip. My balls were resting against his soft pink cheek. With perfect timing, Fem Julia covered my mouth with her hand and then pinched my nostrils closed so that I couldn’t breathe.

“Now, Angelus.”

Angelus took one hand from my shaft and forced his thumb up into my anus, lifting me onto the balls of my feet.

Pressed against the hot sweating body of the Fem, impaled on a neuter’s thumb, and starved of oxygen, when I finally spewed forth my come it felt as though the space behind my eyes had exploded, expelling not just my sperm but my very self.

The Fem did not remove her hand. I could not breathe. As I slipped from consciousness I heard her say, “My poor, sweet, little Yoshi. The Shibari Cowgirls will eat you up.”

* 2 *

I awoke in the chamber that Michael and I shared. I was leashed to the bed by my collar but my hands were free, as they usually are after a milking. Michael was sitting on the bed, unleashed but wrists bound to the straps on his thighs.

“Be very careful of them, Yoshi.”

“Careful of whom?”

“The Shibari Cowgirls. You kept repeating their name while you slept.”

“They will be our guests tonight,” I said. “From the way Fem Julia spoke, I think we may be visited by the Mothers’ Tongue herself.”

Michael’s face set into a scowl that seemed powered by some deeply felt hatred.

“They are dangerous, Yoshi. The “Shibari Cowgirls” is a Dark Ship. Do you know what that means?”

“Of course. It means that these Fems service the Mothers who protect our worlds. They serve a noble purpose…”

“… and they are cruel vicious bitches driven more than a little mad by the company that they keep.”

I was stunned into silence. I held my breath, imagining that such a statement must bring immediate retribution. Without meaning to, I edged away from Michael as if he were the source of unwelcome heat.

Michael watched me closely, as if trying to decide something.

“Today marks the celebration the Mothers’ Blessing, Yoshi. What is it that you think is being celebrated?”

I couldn’t see the link between this and the Shibari Cowgirls but I was eager to move away from the blasphemy Michael had expressed.

“Two hundred years ago, the Mothers returned to us after an absence of ten millennia. They found that the race they had seeded here had strayed. By some evil twist of fate, men had become the dominant gender. They had established societies that oppressed women, pillaged the planet, and retarded the progress of the species. When the Mothers announced themselves to the world and pointed out the problem, the leaders of the men resisted the truth. Even so, the Mothers were merciful, instead of destroying the race and reseeding the planet, they gave us their Blessing to set things right. That is what we celebrate.”

I was proud of my recitation. I had remembered every word of what I had been taught.

“If my hands were free, Yoshi, I would applaud,” Michael said. “You tell the story with such conviction that I could almost believe it is true.”

“It is true,” I said.

“Do you feel blessed, Yoshi?”

“I am proud to be a potent. I am blessed with the ability to bring pleasure and to seed life.”

“You mean you’re constantly hard and your sperm is sucked into a machine that the women control, just as they control everything that you do?”

“It is a woman’s place to control, Michael. A potent is not suited to such a role. You are a potent, you must feel the call in your blood to fuck and fuck and fuck until only the next come matters. Without the women we would all be ferals.”

Michael laughed sarcastically. “And what a terrible thing that would be,” he said. “Where I come from we call it The Bitches’ Curse not the Mothers’ Blessing. The Curse they released killed fifty percent of the males on the planet within ten days. Most of those who survived where rendered impotent. Does that feel like a blessing, Yoshi?”

The Curse made a permanent change in our DNA so that eighty percent of men are born as neuters: impotent, corrupted copies of what a man should be; while the remainder are a locked into a permanent state of arousal that makes them little more than roosters. This was no blessing, Yoshi, it was a brutal act of war.”

These were the most shocking words I had ever heard. I was familiar with the numbers of course, but Michael’s suggestion of malice seemed insane.

“Your words are twisted Michael. The Mothers love us. We are their children. Why would they make war on the race they seeded on the planet?”

“That is the biggest lie of all. We are not their children. They are aliens with some resemblance to humans. They tried to exploit that to buy the whole planet for some glass beads and few bottles of rum and when we wouldn’t trade, they killed the men and stole the souls of the women.”

I had no idea what Michael was talking about, but I was disturbed by his agitation. I tried to bring him back to reality.

“What does this have to do with the Shibari Cowgirls, Michael?”

“It tells you who they are, Yoshi. The Dark Ship Mothers are the ones who released the Curse. They are fierce; the enforcers of their people.

“What do you think it does to our women to share a ship with these aliens?  The women don’t crew the ship. They are the Mothers’ pets. Did you think the title “Mothers’ Tongue” was only about being the Mothers’ representative? I’m sure that, on the long voyages through space, it takes on a more literal meaning.

“Dark Ship Mothers like their pleasure laced with pain and you can bet that they pass this taste on to their pets.”

It seemed to me that Michael was trapped in some kind of paranoid fantasy. Yet it was clear that he believed what he said. I wanted to calm him so I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “I’ll be careful, Michael.”

He didn’t look as though he believed me but at least he stopped his crazy talk. I patted our bed and said, “We should rest, Michael. We will need to be at our best this evening.”

I gave him my brightest, most welcoming smile and moved across the mattress so that he could lie down in the warm spot I had created. Michael lay on his back with his eyes open. I curled up next to him. He even allowed me to rest my hand on his sex, something that always made me feel safe and content. After a while, I fell back to sleep.

* 3 *

The strangeness started when Angelus, rather than our usual handler, came to prepare us. He placed us in our steel dress-collars and cuffs, with a long chain running from cuff to cuff through a ring on the collar. This gave us freedom of movement but still met the House rules on restraints. It took Angelus some time to fix Michael’s collar. I assumed at the time that he was simply unfamiliar with the task. I would never have guessed the true cause of the delay.

Angelus led Michael and me into the playroom on our leashes. I was proud that we were the first couple to be displayed, but I almost lost my footing when I saw that the room had been filled with pain-toys of every description. Michael took hold of my hand and prevented me from falling. “Smile,” he said, under his breathe.

I smiled as best I could. After all, I knew that most of the pain-toys were more for show than use, but the sight of them, so soon after Michael’s warnings, unnerved me.

Three Fems stood in the centre of the room. It was immediately clear that the one in the front of the V shape that they formed was the leader, probably the Mothers’ Tongue herself. I was excited to see that she was Japanese and astonishingly beautiful. I showed my admiration by letting my gaze move slowly from her thick, well-rounded thighs, through a forest of dark pubic hair, across her strong, wide hips, up over the folds of her soft belly and on to her long heavy breasts. I smiled when I my gaze reached her broad, face crowned with raven black hair, threaded with silver. She was the perfect image of womanhood.

The two women behind her were plain by comparison: one was white and the other brown but both were too slim and too well muscled to be truly attractive, and too young to be really experienced. I hoped that the Mothers’ Tongue would choose me but I would, of course have done my best to serve any or all of the Fems.

Angelus pulled us rapidly towards the centre of the room. He held our leashes high above his head and kept his eyes downcast. I had to hold my head up high and walk at a pace that made my erection sway before me.

Angelus knelt at the Mothers’ Tongue’s feet with Michael and me standing shoulder to shoulder behind him.

The two junior Fems moved silently to positions that placed us in the centre of a triangle made up by the three women. They looked like predators, practiced in hunting as a pack, stalking their prey. The Mothers’ Tongue took our leashes from Angelus without looking at him and then stepped towards us. Her pack-mates closed in behind us.

I was afraid. I knew I shouldn’t be, but I was.

When the Mothers’ Tongue spoke, her voice was deep and strangely accented, as if she was unpracticed in speaking in English.

“So, my dears” she said, speaking to her mates, not to us, “Julia is starting our evening with a brace of exotics: a young Japanese and mature Celt with a golden tongue. So few of either breed survived the Blessing, something to do with the type of men they were, perhaps?”

She reached out to stroke my face. Her fingernails were long and looked sharp, like small knives. It was all I could do not to flinch. I’m sure she saw the fear in my eyes.

“Delicious,” she said and smiled. I shivered.

“Stool the older one and thumblock the Japanese,” she said, speaking to Angelus for the first time.

I was shocked. Stooling is usually reserved as a punishment for potents who have lost themselves to the rut and have to be reminded of the need for control.

The stool built low to the ground and has a long thin phallus at the centre a seat that slopes forward. With your ankles tied to the back legs of the stool you are held in place only by the phallus upon which you are impaled. The phallus curves so that the pressure on the prostate is continuous and acute.

I saw Angelus and Michael exchange glances. Some understanding passed between them and then Angelus pushed Michael down on to the stool. Michael grimaced with the discomfort but made no sound.

“I thought that might make him sing for us,” the Mothers’ Tongue said. “How unusual to find a potent who has at least some control.”

Her words sounded like praise but her tone suggested displeasure. It was as if she had wanted to damage him with the stool. Surely she must have been aware that we oil each other thoroughly as part of the preparations for this kind of evening?

When Angelus left Michael and came to lock my hands behind me I was puzzled to see that, although Michael’s legs were wrapped around the stool, his ankles did not seem to be tied.

Angelus manhandled me roughly as he put on the thumblock and it seemed to me that he was trying to turn me away from Michael, although he made it look as if he was pushing me closer the Mothers’ Tongue.

The tall brown pack-mate moved to the Mothers’ Tongue’s side and said, “May I play with him, Mother? I’m sure I can make him sing.”

“Of course you may play with him, Maya, but don’t break anything. Not yet. Later we will see how well he screams. Meanwhile, Trish and I will sample the Japanese.”

I had time to see Maya straddle Michael, one leg over his shoulder, her sex against his mouth, all of her weight pressing him down onto the stool before the Mothers’ Tongue grabbed my head and turned me towards her. Her fingernails were pressing into my cheek and I thought she might rake my face.

Again, she checked for the fear in my eyes, then without looking away she let go of my face and wrapped her fingers around my erection, pressing the head into the palm of her hand.

I sighed, partly from relief, partly from pleasure.

“It’s been a long time since I had a Japanese,” she said, working her palm in a small circle. “The last one was on a Feral Hunt. The Houses hadn’t been established then and without training, many potents went feral. Our job was to hunt them down.”

I wondered how it was possible for the Mothers’ Tongue to have been on a feral hunt. The Houses had been established more than a hundred and fifty years ago, surely she could not be that old?

“Most of them we just shot but I always kept the Japanese alive for a little longer. I liked to make them suffer before they died.”

Suddenly she squeezed my cock so hard it took my breath away then she let go and stepped back.

I didn’t see the blow coming. Trish, the white pack-mate, hit me behind the knees with something long and hard. With my hands locked behind me I wasn’t able to do anything to break my fall.

“Roll him over, Trish. I want to ride him while you work.”

I was very afraid now. I didn’t mind the pain or being ridden but my mind screamed with fear at the kind of “work” Trish might do.

I was hard, despite my fear, and the Mothers’ Tongue had no difficulty sliding me inside her. She was wet and not very tight, but it felt good to have her weight on me. I tried to lift my hips to give her more pleasure but she wouldn’t let me move.

“Do you know what time dilation is? No, of course not. No man with a prick this hard could master physics; too much of their blood is drawn away from the brain for them to think straight. All you need to know is that, for me only twenty-five years have passed since the Blessing. I remember the old world. I remember how men who looked like you used to treat women like me.”

She sounded angry and not entirely sane. Instinctively I turned my head to try and see what was happening with Michael. Maya was fucking him in a way designed to cause him pain. She was squatting with her back to him, pressing back on his cock, pushing him down onto the phallus in the stool. I was amazed that he was able to remain silent. He must be in great pain and yet he seemed more focused on my plight than his.

“I have the Smarthread, Mother. Where shall I use it?” Trish asked.

“Put it under his armpits, the top of his thighs and around his neck above his collar. That should make him wriggle.”

Trish laced the thread around my body quickly and efficiently. It felt sticky and warm and unpleasant.

The Mothers’ Tongue slapped my face.

“Pay attention to me, little man. I want you to know what is happening and why,” she said.

I began to understand that the Mothers’ Tongue might indeed be a little mad and that I was at her mercy.

“When I was a girl,” the Mothers’ Tongue said, “Men like you used to tie me with rope before they fucked me. They were proud of the knots they tied and the pain they caused. They referred to the tying as an art. I think it excited them more than I did. They called the art Shibari.”

Trish knelt on either side of my legs behind the Mothers’ Tongue, leaning into her back, head over her shoulder, hands massaging the Mothers’ Tongue’s breasts.

“When the Mothers came and the world changed, I served with devotion. The Mothers have rewarded me. Part of my reward is Smarthread. Can you feel the heat of it? It’s reading the signals from your nervous system, drawing energy from it. It uses the energy to pull itself tighter. Fear, pain, excitement, all of them feed the thread and increase the pace at which it tightens. As it tightens it cuts into your flesh and, eventually, through your muscles and bones.”

I was going to die and die painfully and slowly.

“A potent like you is ruled by your prick. The men who took me as a girl where also ruled by their pricks. When you orgasm, the Smarthread will slice so deep that every beat of your heart will wash this floor with blood. Yet we both know you will soon be hard again, that you won’t stop even though you are fucking yourself to death.”

Trish was licking the Mothers’ Tongue’s neck. The Mothers’ Tongue was rocking on my cock. I couldn’t help but be excited and that excitement was going to kill me.

“Please,” I said, “don’t hurt me.”

But the Mothers’ Tongue wasn’t listening. She was kissing Trish. Both of them had their eyes closed. I think that is what saved my life.

Potents are trained to be triggered by the sound of a woman’s pleasure. Even in my fear I had been aware of the grunts and groans Maya was making as she rode Michael. They were one more thing pushing me towards orgasm and mutilation.  Perhaps this is why I noticed that the sounds had stopped even though the Mothers’ Tongue and Trish didn’t.

I looked up to see if further harm had befallen Michael and I couldn’t help but call out at what I saw.

Michael was half standing, the stool still attached to him. Maya was in his arms, blood streaming from the cut in her throat. In each hand, Michael held a curved blade that I slowly realized was made from the two halves of his collar.

When I cried out the Smarthread tightened enough to draw blood.

Trish and the Mothers’ Tongue were still kissing but Trish opened her eyes to look at me. When she saw the blood, she broke off from the kiss to dip her fingers into the cut at my thigh. She was reaching to push her bloody fingers into the Mothers’ Tongue’s mouth when Angelus killed her. He didn’t use a blade; he broke her neck with a move that looked well practiced and efficient.

The Mothers’ Tongue still had her eyes closed. Her cunt had been tight on my cock for some seconds and I knew she was ready to come. When she came, I would come also and the Smarthead would cut my throat open.

The Mothers’ Tongue’s eyes shot open at the sound of Trish’s neck breaking. It was obvious that she knew exactly what she was hearing. She struggled up off me immediately, but I could feel the cum in my balls getting ready to fly.

I tried to sit up; to make it stop. Then Michael’s fist connected with my jaw.

* 4 *

I woke in a bed with clean linen and a warm duvet. The sensation was comforting and familiar but something was missing or different but my mind was fuddled and I couldn’t figure out what.

Of course! Now I knew what was missing: I had no bondmate to share the bed and for first time since puberty, I had awoken without an erection. This last news so disturbed me that I had to reach down and check that I was still in one piece.

“Lost something?”

I looked up, still half asleep, hand on my still-dormant genitals and saw Michael standing at the foot of my bed. At least I thought it was Michael. His head was covered in very short hair; he had a light beard and was wearing clothes – some kind of coverall with badges on it.

“Michael?”

“My real name is Brendan, Yoshi.”

Real name? What did he mean, “Real name”? Then I remembered everything.

“The Mothers’ Tongue…”

“Is our prisoner, Yoshi. She is why I was there.”

Michael sat on the bed and took my hand in his.

“When Angelus told us that the House had a Japanese, we knew that you were bait that the Mothers’ Tongue would nibble at for her bicentennial celebration. I’m sorry, Yoshi, but it was an opportunity we couldn’t afford to miss.”

“Angelus betrayed the House?”

“Angelus is a brave man who serves the Alliance well, Yoshi. Thanks to him I had the weapons to kill that bitch, Maya.”

This was too much information too quickly. It seemed that nothing I thought I had understood had been true. I thought that Michael liked me and yet it seemed I was just the cheese in his mousetrap. I felt like crying but I didn’t want to do that in front of Michael. I let myself get angry instead.

“You hit me,” I said. I sounded petulant, even to my own ears.

Michael laughed. “Don’t sulk, Yoshi. It was the only way I could stop you from triggering the Smarthread.”

I did start to cry then. I had been about to die. And Michael, no Brendan, had saved me. And two Fems were dead. And the Mothers’ Tongue was kidnapped. And nothing, nothing at all, made sense.

Michael/Brendan held me, rocking my head gently against his chest.

“It’s the shock, Yoshi. You’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

I let him hold me for a while. Then I asked the question that I most needed the answer to. It was the hardest question I’d ever asked.

“Am I a neuter now?”

Michael/Brendan looked puzzled.

“It’s just that I don’t have an erection and I should have one and I wondered if maybe I couldn’t have one anymore?”

I was babbling but Michael didn’t laugh.

“You’re in the Alliance now, Yoshi. We’ve developed ways to combat the Bitches Curse. You can have an erection but you don’t have to have one. Try it out. Think of something that excites you.”

I closed my eyes and summoned up the image. My cock stirred in response and I felt a peace settling on me. I didn’t know what the Alliance was, or what would happen to me next, but at least I was still me.

Michael stood up. “Get some rest, Yoshi. You’re still weak. I’ll be back to see you later.”

He was right. I was weak. I let myself fall back onto the soft pillows as soon as he left the room. I was still erect. I decided to do something about it. I recalled the image to my mind, something that I had imagined many times but never experienced. Then I let my fingers work. I had masturbated before, some Fems enjoy watching a potent bring himself to release, but I had never masturbated alone, focused entirely on my own pleasure. I should have felt guilty at wasting sperm in this way. Instead I felt… free.

After I came and before sleep claimed me, I had time to wonder if Michael’s lips would be as soft in reality as they were in my imagination.

 

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© Mike Kimera 2004 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

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A story without a reader is incomplete. Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment below.

Deserving Ruth

“Deserving Ruth” is a story I’m proud of.

It has a lot of sex scenes in it for a short story and gets into territory that would normally be the heart of porn but it isn’t really about sex. It’s about guilt and betrayal and the possibility of redemption.

This is the story I point to when someone asks me the difference between porn and erotica. If this was porn, the first thing you would remember would be whichever scene aroused you the most. What makes this erotica is that. when the arousal has ebbed, what youou will remember is the people

This story appeared in Maxim Jakobowski’s “Best New Erotica 3“.

“My wife says you like to come in her mouth, David.”

We are only one drink in to the evening and this isn’t the conversational opener I’d expected. I nurse my bottle of Bud and say nothing.

Lars puts his arm around my shoulders, leans his head down towards mine and says, “Mei Mei does have a talented tongue, but I always wonder about a man who is able to resist her tight little cunt. There’s something about the grip of a wet cunt on your cock that a mouth just can’t match, don’t you think?”

I am very aware of the heat of Lars’ body next to mine. He is dressed in Levis and tight fitting black t-shirt and he looks like six foot four of pure muscle. For a moment it occurs to me that he could snap my neck without breaking sweat, but he is smiling and from the tone of his voice we could be talking about cars or sports.

I glance over at Mei Mei. She looks small next to my wife, Ruth. They both have the same long black hair and have conspired to wear matching outfits, black silk shirt-dresses that stop inches above the knee and tie with a simple belt at the waist. Their makeshift uniforms emphasise how different they are. Ruth has a strong Slavic look; her breasts and hips seem almost swollen and over-ripe compared to Mei Mei’s compact Malaysian frame. The two of them are talking animatedly, leaning forward, their faces almost touching. Ruth’s hand rests on Mei Mei’s knee, her fingers pointing along the line of her thigh. Sexual intent seems to flash between them.

“Ruth has nice breasts, David,” Lars says, “You must enjoy pressing her tits together and pushing your cock between them.”

I feel the beginnings of an erection and I wish Lars would take his arm off my shoulders. I have never fucked Ruth’s tits, she has never let me, but I have often wondered what it would be like.

I continue looking at the women to give myself time to decide how to get Lars to move his arm without causing offence. After all, this is his house and I was brought up not to insult my host.

Ruth’s hand is now out of sight, underneath Mei Mei’s dress. Mei Mei leans forward and pushes her tongue into Ruth’s mouth. There is something staged about the kiss. The tongues are too visible. I know that, out of the side of their eyes, they are looking at Lars and me, putting on a show for us.

Ruth is in charge of course. Ruth is always in charge. She was the one who brought Mei Mei into our bed. She told me that they met at one of those Manchester Sauna clubs that doubles as a swingers swap centre. Mei Mei was new and all the men had been trying to get her attention. Ruth pushed them aside, pulled Mei Mei’s head back by the hair and then kissed her. Mei Mei kissed back and opened her legs slightly. Ruth said that Mei Mei was so wet she could have slid her whole fist into her cunt. As it was, pushing two fingers in was enough to cause general applause from the watching men.

Normally Ruth doesn’t involve me in her promiscuous adventures, but she always tells me about them. She wants me to know the lengths that she goes to to find satisfaction.

Ruth has a set routine. Whenever she gets really horny she goes to the club and fucks. Then she comes back and tells me all about it. She makes me sit in the living room with the palms of my hands on the arm of the chair. If I move my hands she will walk out of the room and not tell me anything more. If I stay still, she will talk me through every detail, all the while coaxing my cock to get harder and harder. Then she’ll let me be her last fuck of the day.

I was in the chair, being told about the Malaysian girl who had nipples like rivets and hair like silk and I was getting nicely stiff when Ruth said, “You’ll love her mouth on your cock. She’ll swallow you whole.”

This was a departure from the routine. I was still trying to decide what to make of it when Ruth said, “You can come in now.”

Mei Mei came out of our bedroom. She was naked. She didn’t look at me, only at Ruth. Her look was full of longing.

“I told her she could only lick my cunt once her mouth was filled with your cum,” Ruth said, as if she was describing some every day instruction.

I said nothing. speech was beyond me. Mei Mei knelt and looked up at Ruth.

“Keep your mouth open and your tongue out,” Ruth said.

Ruth began to work my cock with her fingers. Her grip was strong enough to hurt. She was interested in results, not finesse. She took care to rub my glands against the tip of Mei Mei’s tongue from time to time. When she felt that I was ready to come she pushed Mei Mei’s head forward so that I was in her mouth when the cum pulsed out of me.

“Don’t swallow that,” Ruth said.

Mei Mei opened wide, letting my limp cock slip out, and showed Ruth the cum she held in her mouth.

Ruth sat on my lap with her back to me, her legs spread on either side of my knees.

“Show me how deep you can push that cum inside me,” Ruth said.

As Mei Mei worked with her tongue, Ruth gave me a running commentary on her performance. She told me that Mei Mei was a much better cunt licker than me and said that she must have had a lot of practice.

The narration became more and more breathless as Mei Mei buried her head between Ruth’s legs. When Ruth came her whole body tensed against mine. I was hard again by now, my cock rolling around under Ruth and close to Mei Mei’s mouth. I wanted to be inside one of them.

Ruth climbed off me. She pulled Mei Mei to her feet and hugged her.

“I’m taking Mei Mei to bed to reward her for her hard work,” Ruth said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

This was outrageous behaviour, even by Ruth’s standards. I should have complained. I should have demanded to join them. I should have pushed Ruth to the floor and fucked her into submission. I just sat there looking stupid, my unwanted erection signalling my uselessness.

As they reached the bedroom door I heard myself say, “Please.”

It sounded sad and pathetic even to me.

“Shall we let him watch, Mei Mei?” Ruth asked.

“I would like to see him inside you,” Mei Mei said.

It was the first time I had heard her speak. Her voice was soft and gentle. It made me want to smile.

“Come along, David,” Ruth said, “if you are still hard after I’ve rewarded Mei Mei I will let you be my last fuck of the day.”

I went to her like a recently scolded puppy being offered a bone.

Ruth placed Mei Mei’s hand around my cock.

“Hold on to that for me, Mei Mei. Don’t let him come.”

Mei Mei smiled encouragingly and then she closed her fingers around me as if she was grasping a luggage handle. We made an absurd chain of need as Ruth led Mei Mei into the room by the hand and I was pulled along behind them.

Ruth arranged us both on the bed, side by side. Mei Mei kept her finger and thumb around the base of my cock. Her arm was a line of heat across my belly.

“Watch and learn how to please a woman, David,” Ruth said.

Ruth leant over Mei Mei, her knee between Mei Mei’s legs, and tilted her long black hair until it stroked Mei Mei’s breasts and belly. It was the only part of her touching Mei Mei. Slowly Ruth increased the speed at which her hair moved across Mei Mei’s flesh until she was tossing her head from side to side and almost whipping Mei Mei with her mane.

I hadn’t realised how hard Mei Mei had been gripping me until Ruth finally held her head still and Mei Mei sighed and relaxed her hand a little. Mei Mei’s nipples were hard and her eyes were closed.

Looking at me, Ruth lowered her face towards Mei Mei and kissed her on the forehead. She stroked Mei Mei’s face with the tips of her fingers, brushing her lips with her thumb. Mei Mei suckled it slowly, gratefully.

Ruth withdrew her thumb and used it to trace a wet trail between Mei Mei’s breasts and down over her belly. Mei Mei closed the rest of her fingers around my cock and seemed to hold her breath. Ruth let the moment of silent stillness grow until it was almost unbearable and then she finally took Mei Mei. Her tongue pushed its way into Mei Mei’s mouth at the same time that two of her fingers entered her cunt. Mei Mei’s back arched.

Ruth rested most of her weight on the hand that gripped Mei Mei’s sex. I could see the how she used her thumb to circle Mei Mei’s clit as she worked two and then three fingers in and out, spreading Mei Mei wide and seeming to try and scoop the juices out of her.

I wanted to move but I didn’t dare. I could smell Mei Mei’s sex, see the sweat forming on her brow. Precum started to seep from my cock. I did my best to hold back.

Ruth was in rut mode now. She had trapped Mei Mei’s thigh between her own and was working herself against it, all the time staring at Mei Mei and muttering, “Come for momma baby, come for momma”.

Then, like a bird of prey, she descended upon Mei Mei’s right nipple and savaged it between her teeth. Mei Mei’s grip on my cock was so tight it was painful. She was groaning and raising one shoulder off the bed like a wrestler resisting being pinned. Ruth’s palm was slapping against Mei Mei’s mound almost fast enough to be applause.

Mei Mei let out a long soft sigh, her body went limp and she lay there as still as the dead. Ruth stopped and looked at her, more with curiosity than fear. “Well well, a come coma. I haven’t seen one of those up close before,” she said.

Mei Mei’s eyes fluttered open. She let go of my cock for the first time since all this began and gently held Ruth’s face.

“Thank you,” she said, kissing Ruth on the lips. “Thank you.”

Even Ruth showed some emotion at Mei Mei’s gratitude; she smiled at her and ruffled her hair.

When Ruth made to get off the bed, Mei Mei said, “Wait! Please. I want to see him inside of you. Please. I want to do something special.”

Ruth looked as if she’d forgotten I was there.

“Ok,” Ruth said, “it looks like you’ve kept him harder than usual and I’d like to find out what special means, let’s do it – or should I say him?”

Mei Mei kissed me quickly on the cheek and said, “Don’t worry, you’ll like this.” Then she scrambled down the bed until she was facing my cock, her body pressed into my side.

“I’m going to help him fuck you,” she said, sounding delighted with herself.

She pressed the index and second fingers of her left hand along the underside of my cock, so that the tips of the fingers were pushing up into the soft crown of the head and my balls were cupped in her palm.

“Please, lower yourself on to us.” Mei Mei said.

“That’s going to be a tight squeeze. I mean, I know he’s only average size but will you both fit?”

“Please,” Mei Mei said.

Very slowly, Ruth lowered herself onto me. Mei Mei’s fingers were small but the extra width they generated made Ruth a very tight fit.

“Oh fuck,” Ruth said, “that’s what a cock should feel like.”

Mei Mei grinned, gave Ruth a quick kiss on the clit and said, “You’ll like the next part.”

Mei Mei used her fingers to roll the head of my cock against Ruth’s G-spot. The sensation was intense and I wanted to come at once. I also wanted this to go on forever.

Ruth was biting her lip and pulling at her nipples, eyes closed in concentration. She looked magnificent.

I couldn’t hold out any longer. Sperm started a rush from my balls and up my cock, a huge wave of energy battering through me.

Mei Mei took my release as the cue for her coupe de grace. She sucked Ruth’s clit into her mouth and started to worry it like a dog with a rabbit. I’d never felt Ruth contract so much or so often. She was so far gone that she bit her lip. A narrow ribbon of scarlet traced its way over the edge of her chin.

Mei Mei withdrew her hand and Ruth’s cunt suddenly felt cavernous around my shrinking cock. She positioned herself behind Ruth, her arms under Ruth’s armpits, her hands on Ruth’s breasts and kissed her wounded lip. She eased Ruth off me and laid her on the bed, stroking her head until Ruth slipped into sleep.

“I have to go now,” Mei Mei said.

She reached for her clothes, which lay on the chair next to the bed. By the time she had slipped into her skirt and t-shirt, I was standing next to the bed; still a little dazed by the way I’d spent the afternoon.

Mei Mei stretched up and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks, David. Tell Ruth I’ll call her. You were both wonderful.” She waved as she went out the door. Standing naked, spent and confused I waved back, trying for a smile.

Ruth slept for twenty minutes. I covered her with a duvet. I knew I should have been angry with her, she’d treated me very badly, but I also knew that I deserved it.

We’d really loved one another once. Then, two years ago, I spoiled things. I had an affair, less than an affair, a one-night stand with an old friend I’d met by chance. I didn’t think to use a condom. I never imagined that I might pass on a disease to Ruth that would rob her of the child she had always wanted and rob me of my wife’s affection.

In Ruth’s eyes I had rejected her as lover and destroyed her as a mother with the one act of betrayal. Her promiscuity started as a means of punishing me. Now I’m not sure what drives her to it. We’ve made an accommodation of sorts, people always do, but there is an undercurrent of regret and anger and guilt that could sweep us away at any time.

“I don’t know what you’re looking so glum about.” Ruth said, when she woke. “You just got your rocks off twice in one night. That must be some kind of record for you. I’m going to get a shower. Then I’m going to sleep.”

I knew what that meant. I made my way to the guest bedroom. Laying there, replaying the sex in my head, I wondered what it was that Ruth really wanted and whether or not she’d found it.

Mei Mei didn’t come back to the house again, but I knew that Ruth had stayed at her house at least three times over the next two weeks. Ruth didn’t share the details with me. She seemed a bit distracted. Her smile was brittle and she was drinking more than usual. I avoided asking questions. I’d long ago lost the right to hold Ruth to account.

Then this morning, the pattern changed. Ruth couldn’t quite hide the tension in her voice when she said, “We’re going to Mei Mei’s house tonight. It will be a lot of fun.”

Even staying quiet doesn’t always keep me out of trouble. Ruth stepped close to me and said, “I’m sick of your wimpy silences David. You should be glad I’m including you. I hope that, for once, I can depend on you to behave properly. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head and she pushed me up against the wall and kissed me. It was a wild kiss, almost a bite.  When it was over she said, “Don’t let me down, David. Not again.”

So now I’m standing way too close to a large Swedish guy and watching my wife undo the buttons on Mei Mei’s dress. I should be having a good time but I feel like an impostor in their company. I’m the sort of guy who reads CD titles in the kitchen at parties. I’ve never felt comfortable hanging out with the cool kids.

Lars lifts his arm off my shoulders, but things get worse when he taps my bum and says, “Let’s get out of these clothes and show the girls why a woman needs a man like a fish needs water.”

The “girls” stop fondling each other and watch Lars as he pulls off his t-shirt. His chest is completely smooth, he has a six-pack stomach and oh my god he has nipple rings. That’s enough to make my balls retract. I hate the idea of being pierced.

I’m still unbuttoning my shirt when Lars climbs out of his jeans. I don’t want to look at his cock but I can’t help it. He’s not erect yet but it’s already clear that he’s longer and thicker than I am. And the bloody man shaves his pubes. Even on his balls.

I stop getting undressed. I’m not at all sure I want to be here.

Lars pulls the foreskin back on his cock. His fist is wrapped around it below the head but there’s plenty of meat still visible.

“OK, who’d like first lick?”

Something in the way he says that makes me certain that I’m included in the invitation. He grins at me. I look away. I’m relieved when he walks towards Ruth and Mei Mei, his cock bouncing ludicrously in front of him.

“Into position girls. You know what I want.”

The women have slipped out of their dresses. Mei Mei kneels on the sofa. In a move that looks practised, Ruth sits astride Mei Mei’s thighs, facing her and then lays back with her head over the edge of the sofa. Mei Mei lifts Ruth’s legs so that Ruth can hook her knees over Mei Mei’s shoulders. With a smile, Mei Mei lowers her head and starts to lap gently at Ruth’s sex.

“Don’t they make a pretty picture, David?” Lars says. “Push your tits together Ruth, and let’s show David the new tricks you’ve learned.”

I’ve already realised that they’ve fucked before. This is where Ruth has been spending her time.

Ruth’s eyes are on me as Lars straddles her. He pushes his obscenely large cock between her breasts and she presses them tightly together for him. Then, slowly and deliberately she lifts her head, extends her tongue and starts to lick his arsehole.

I can’t read the expression in her eyes. It’s not pleasure, or fear. It looks more like resignation.

“You know, David, it’s impolite to fuck a man’s wife without asking his permission.” As he speaks, Lars is pushing backwards and forwards between Ruth’s breasts. Ruth is doing her best to find his anus or his balls with her tongue.

“So I decided to show Ruth how a real man fucks. Seems like she hasn’t been fucked properly in a long time. In fact, when we met, I don’t think she’d ever had it up the arse at all.”

I move closer to them, not sure what to do next. I’m trying to figure out what Ruth wants. I’ve been trying to figure out what Ruth wants ever since I betrayed her.

“Did you know that Ruth is good at deep throating? Well I guess in your case it wouldn’t really be that deep would it?”

Lars steps back a little. Ruth lies with her throat in a straight line, her eyes on me, her mouth wide open. Lars grunts as he slides his cock into her throat. He does it four or five times. Ruth really can take all of him. She doesn’t gag but her eyes seem moist. I don’t know if this is an involuntary reaction or an emotional one.

Mei Mei has stopped licking Ruth now. She is looking at me. She seems sad.

“Get ready for it baby,” Lars says. He is out of Ruth’s throat now, fiercely stroking himself in front of her face. Ready to spray all over her, like a dog marking territory.

I am still holding my half empty bottle of Bud. It doesn’t break when it hits Lars, but it is very effective at knocking him out.

Mei Mei scrambles to Lars’ aid, pushing Ruth out of her way.

I reach down and help Ruth to her feet. I wrap her dress around her. She is shaking.

“You hit him.”

“Yes, I suppose I did”.

She is under my arm. We are heading for the door.

“You might have killed him.”

“Yes”.

We stop. She looks at me, searching for something in my face that she seems to find.

“Thank you,” she says, and wraps her arms around me.

As I bundle her into the car I let myself hope that I may finally have become someone that Ruth wants.

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© Mike Kimera 2002 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

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A story without a reader is incomplete. Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment below.

Happy Anniversary

“All a man can betray is his conscience.” Joseph Conrad

This is one of those stories I keep coming back to as a warning to myself. This is the man I never want to become. It is not in the least autobiographical but I am left wondering if it is possible to conceive of such a man without having at least some small similarity to him. I’d love to know what you think of this one.

A Walk In The Park

“A Walk In The Park” is an early D/s story of mine. It’s thin on plot but it seems to get the juices running. It has the same characters as “Bus Ride“

 

Walking through the park, Paul and Suzie make a striking couple. He has an air of power, almost aggression, about him. She seems demur and sinful at the same time. People find their eyes drawn to them, without quite knowing why.  If pheromones were visible, they would swarm about these two like bees around a hive.

The day is cold. Paul is wearing an expensive coat and close fitting black leather gloves. Suzie is wearing a red silk dress better suited to summer. Her hard nipples press through the thin fabric. She is carrying her coat in front of her, over her hands as she walks. She is grateful to carry it this way, to hide the fact that her wrists are cuffed together.

Suzie is walking to heel, but only she and Paul know that. Paul’s stride is longer than hers and Suzie doesn’t know where they are going, so she has to concentrate to keep up. The ben-wah balls in her cunt mimic her movements, stretching and probing, constantly stimulating. When she hurries, her short dress flows around her thighs in an eye catching way and there is a danger that someone will notice her lack of panties. She has not been given permission to speak, so they walk in silence. Paul stops. Suzie almost walks past him but she catches herself in time.

The litre bottle of mineral water is full and cold. It has a little cap that allows the water to be sucked from the bottle. Suzie looks into Paul’s eyes as he places the cap in her mouth and tips the bottle. She knows that he will not lower the bottle it she fails to swallow the water. He’ll squeeze until the water runs down her neck and over her breasts. So she sucks hard; hard enough for the sides of the bottle to flex. Paul makes her drink half a litre. People are watching.

Leaning close to her ear, Paul says, “What a great cocksucking mouth you have, Suzie.”  Suzie blushes, hoping no-one overheard those words, but she does not move away.

Paul puts the bottle back to her lips and tilts her head most of the way back. Her neck is stretched and vulnerable. Every swallow she makes is visible. Already Suzie’s bladder is under pressure and she is losing body warmth. When the bottle is empty Paul kisses her lips but doesn’t touch her.

Only when Paul steps back does Suzie see the couple on the park bench who have watched her drinking feat. She realises that, while she drank, her coat moved and the cuffs are now visible. The boy can’t take his eyes from her. The girl looks as if she wants to spit at her.

Paul makes her walk on. It is not a comfortable process. She needs to piss. The eggs in her cunt, with their shifting counter-weights are making her wet. She feels everyone is staring at her. She doesn’t know what he will make her do next.

They step off the path into a small rose garden, not much frequented this late in the year. Paul tells her to squat. Suzie looks up at Paul, needing to piss but hoping not to have to do it here. Squatting puts pressure on her bladder and exposes her cunt to the world. Paul strokes Suzie’s cheek, finishing by pulling down her lower lip with his thumb.

“Stay here and don’t piss”, Paul says and strides off.

The wait seems interminable. Left alone in this humiliating position, Paul’s power over her starts to wane and Suzie has time to wonder how she let this happen to her. She is almost ready to stand, at least to ease her aching muscles, when Paul returns. The boy from the bench is with him. The girl, it seems, is history. Suzie is at eye level with the erection in the boy’s jeans.

Locking eyes with Suzie and placing his hand on the top of her head, Paul speaks to the boy. “She can’t fuck you just now because her cunt is already full. As you know, her hands are tied. She needs to piss but she won’t be allowed to do this until she makes you come with her mouth. The only rule is that you can’t hurt her. Do you have any requests?”

“Yeah – I wanna come on her face and I wanna see her tits.”

Suzie is in shock. Paul can’t mean this. Surely he is going to send this boy and his hungry hardness away. This is a test. She looks up at Paul, silently pleading for him to change his mind. All the while the pressure on her bladder is building.

“That’s up to you,” Paul says to the boy. “Her hands are tied so you’ll have to undo her dress for her if you want to see her breasts. Remember, don’t hurt her. Feel free to use her throat; she’s well practiced at that. She will do her best to please you.”

Suzie’s world slows down. Her will goes on hold. She feels as if she is outside herself, watching this strange meeting. As the boy fumbles with the buttons on her dress, she is surprised to find that her main concern is to be allowed to piss and soon. The boy’s cock already has precum on it. She knows he won’t last long. Almost on autopilot Suzie leans forward and sucks in his cock.

The boy places one hand on Suzie’s head and uses the other to tweak her nipple. “I don’t even know his name,” she thinks, as she swallows his cock whole. She desperately wants to pee. He is fucking her face with a fast rhythm and she concentrates on the drumbeat of his lust.

Then she feels Paul squatting behind her. She can’t help it; the moment Paul touches her, desire floods through her. He flips up her skirt and pushes his thumb into her asshole.

“When he comes you can piss, but I want you to come too,” Paul says. “If you piss before then I will make you lick it up”

She knows he doesn’t mean this, but the thought excites her. She surrenders herself to the experience.

Soon Paul’s thumb becomes her point of balance. Her eyes are closed. She rocks between Paul and the nameless cock using her mouth.

Then the cock is withdrawn from her lips. Suzie opens her eyes just as the boy starts to spray his thick young-man’s cum on her face. She closes her mouth so it will all go on her face and hair. To everyone’s surprise, she smiles. Now she can piss. She feels her ass contract on Paul’s thumb as she empties her bladder. The eggs move inside her and she starts to come.

A pool of urine is forming at Suzie’s feet. She rests her back against Paul, ignoring the cum dripping from her chin, and lets herself groan, a long deep growl of a groan, as she comes.

.When she opens her eyes, the boy, prompted by Paul, is thanking her. Suzie is reminded of a boy dutifully thanking his aunt for a birthday present. She laughs.

The laugh releases her. She is back in her own head again. The boy is gone. Paul is unlocking her cuffs and putting her coat around her shoulders. He kisses her cum-stained mouth passionately and without restraint.

Game over, Suzie steps back, holds Paul’s gaze just long enough to see a question start to form in his eyes and then says, “Thank you Paul. I didn’t know I needed that.”

 

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© Mike Kimera 2000 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

 

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A story without a reader is incomplete. Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment below.

Bus Ride

“Bus Ride” has the same characters as “A Walk In The Park” but was written first. It appeared on “Clean Sheets” in 2004 and was one of the few pieces of mine that has received angry mails. This is apparently, sheer porn, that degrades and humiliates women. I know that will prompt some of you to read it, but it surprised me as I think this is quite a mild piece. If you want porn, read “Have A Nice Day” which is very hardcore but which no one ever objected to.

Still, what do I know? I only wrote it. The rest is up to the reader.

It is mid-afternoon on a sunny October day. Paul has told Suzie that they are going on a bus ride across town. Paul does not normally ride the bus. He will look out of place in his business suit and tie but Suzie knows that all eyes will be on her. The summer print dress that Paul has chosen for her to wear has narrow straps, a dropped waist and bias cut that flares when she walks. The weather is not quite warm enough for the outfit and her nipples show the cold. Apart from the dress, she is wearing a black silk choker with a D ring, and, on each wrist, a black leather cuff also with a D ring. It seems to Suzie that these items scream for the attention of every passing eye. They set her apart. They mark her as Paul’s. She is embarrassed, excited and proud at the same time.

Suzie looks small and young and exotic next to Paul. He is white, middle aged and middle class. She is Asian, young enough to be his daughter, and projects an air of calm submission. No one would mistake them for husband and wife. No one could miss the fact that they are together.

Suzie is walking with care. The ben-wah balls in her cunt stimulate her with every step. As she steps on to the bus ahead of Paul, the sun shining through the dress shows clearly that she is naked underneath.

Paul directs Suzie to the backseat of the bus. People instinctively make way for them. Most find their gaze drawn to Suzie. She has snagged the fabric of their attention and they must shake themselves to break the link.

Paul sits first. Suzie stands patiently in front of him until he looks up at her, giving her permission to sit next to him. As she sits, she lifts her dress so that her bare skin will touch the seat. She sits as close as she can to Paul without touching him. She keeps her legs slightly parted and her gaze straight ahead.

A boy, no more than eighteen, leans against the window further along the bench seat. He stares at the choker on Suzie’s neck and the cuffs on her wrists, but looks away when he notices Paul looking at him.

Paul, still watching the boy, whispers in Suzie’s ear. She puts her hands behind her back, slides further forward on the seat, the PVC warm against her buttocks, and clips the two cuffs together. Her face is impassive but Paul knows her well enough to see that she is excited and a little afraid.

Paul moves the strap of her dress off her left shoulder, then her right. Only her breasts hold the dress up. Each time the bus bounces Suzie is in danger of the dress falling to her waist. She knows that if this happens she will not be allowed to cover herself; she will have to wait to see what Paul instructs.

The boy is not slouching against the window any more. He has moved closer on the benchseat and all of his attention is focussed on Suzie. He is watching her intently. His jeans do nothing to hide the erection that his thumb traces.  He wants to touch Suzie. The sight of her makes him want to do things that he has barely imagined before: to bite, to probe, to use. Only Paul’s threatening presence holds him at bay.

The bus reaches the terminus. Reluctantly the boy stands to leave. As he slips by he deliberately brushes against Suzie’s shoulder. Her dress falls forward a little; the top of her nipple is just visible. Suzie does not move or glace up at the boy. His erection is directly in front of her. She sees a damp spot blossom at its tip and knows that the boy has just come. Paul makes a noise that is more of a growl than a word and starts to stand. The boy backs away rapidly, falling over his feet, one hand pressed to his crotch.

It will be a few minutes before the new passengers join the bus. Paul stands facing Suzie, shielding her from view of the passengers getting on. He pushes her dress down to expose her breasts. He tilts her chin up to make her look him in the eyes, unzips and places his cock in her mouth. He is very hard. Suzie knows that he has been fully erect since they boarded the bus. She sucks eagerly, at this cock, partly from excitement and partly because she wants to make him come before the new passengers see what she is doing.

Paul twists the nipple Suzie’s right breast, his other reaches between her legs. His fingers search for the string to the ben-wah balls. Pushing his cock deeper into her mouth, Paul pulls out the ben-wah balls. Suzie’s sigh on his cock triggers Paul’s long withheld come.

The bus is filling. Paul and Suzie are attracting attention. Suzie does her best to swallow Paul’s cum. She allows herself to rock forward on his fingers by way of a reward. He leaves his cock in her mouth even though she can hear people getting closer to the back of the bus. She wants to struggle, to push his cock from her mouth, to cover herself, but more than all those things, she wants to obey him.

Paul can see the alarm in her eyes. He smiles and with rapid, confident movements, pulls the straps of her dress back on her shoulders and zips himself up in the time it takes for Suzie to lick the cum off her swollen lips.

Suzie waits for Paul to undo her wrists. She is disappointed that the game is over and she has not yet come but she knows that when Paul teases her like this she is always rewarded.  Paul reaches behind her but he does not undo the cuffs. Suzie’s eyes widen as she feels the ben-wah balls, still slick from her cunt, placed in palm of her hand.

Paul turns to leave. Suzie’s wrists are still bound. The game is not over.

Suzie knows that there is a spot of Paul’s cum just below her lower lips, the ben-wah balls are visible in her hands, and she will leave a wet stain on the seat when she stands. Paul is almost off the bus. Determined to walk with dignity and not to scurry with fear, Suzie rises to follow Paul off the bus, conscious of the stares she is receiving, feeling them like slaps, warming under their touch.

Paul lifts Suzie from the step of the bus, holding her off the ground, licking away the cum on her chin, kissing her with the cum still on his tongue. Then her turns her to face the bus while he undoes her cuffs. Several passengers are looking at her with expressions that vary from distaste through greed to envy.

“Good girl, Suzie,” Paul says.

He is holding her hands at her sides, not letting her turn away from the bus.

“Now it’s time for your reward,. Suzie. Look straight ahead. Close your eyes. Listen to your body. Tune it. Stroke it with your mind. Focus it. Let all these people see how beautiful it is. How beautiful you are.”

With her eyes closed all Suzie allowed herself to be aware of was Paul’s voice, leading her, making her go where she needed to be. In the long hours of the night he has taught her to respond to his voice. Her body greets it like a dog wagging its tail. She focuses on all that she wants and needs.  His voice in her ear is like a mouth on her clit, tugging at her, nudging her, driving her onwards.

When she hears Paul say, “Come now, Suzie.” she shudders to a climax that leaves her floating.

“Open your eyes, Suzie.”

The bus is gone.

Paul takes off his suit jacket and put it around Suzie’s shoulders, wraps his arms around her so she is pressed back against him and says, “Thank you. You were magnificent.”

His praise warms Suzie almost a deeply as her orgasm. She feels safe and protected and needed in his arms. She is drowsy and content now. She lets her weight lean against Paul.

He kisses the top of her head and says, “We’ll take a cab home.”

 

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© Mike Kimera 2004 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

 

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A story without a reader is incomplete. Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment below.

Toying with Lily

In my experience, women who seek a sexually submissive role are often people who are dominant and forceful in their daily lives. They do not slide meekly into a submissive role. There has to be dominance before there is submission. This story gets you inside the head of a Dom with a fiesty Sub and shows what it takes to be in charge.

“Toying with Lily” appeared in “Hurts So Good” Alison Tyler (ed.), Unrestrained Erotica (Cleis).

It was a finalist for the 2009 John Preston Short Fiction Award. The John Preston award is given by the US-based  National Leather Association: International (NLA-I), a leading organization for activists in the pansexual SM/leather/fetish community