Sacrifices *written in support of Dylan Farrow. Trigger warning*

Mallory walked into the room and beamed at John.

“You just saw it, didn't you?”

“I did.” She looked up at the ceiling, drawing her fingers through her hair, trying to gather the many thoughts and feelings that swirled in her head.

“So?”

“I'm glad I went alone. I don't think I could have waited to talk about it and I hate people who talk in movies.”

John pulled back his blanket and patted the couch next to him. “So let's talk. What was your favorite part?”

Mallory dropped onto the couch eyes still up, still living through the movie in her head. “The whole thing? Everything? I mean the emotion, the focus on small conflict, the realness of it all.”

“Right? It feels like life. But life as art. It's beautiful and terrible and real and better than real.”

“Yes! That exactly.” She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. “I feel so good right now. I can't wait till he makes another one.”

John's face darkened. “Well you know it'll be a while. It takes certain things for a genius to do his work and selfish people never want to make the sacrifices.”

Mallory lifted his chin and and smiled at him.

“Don't worry, babe. They'll do it. No one wants to live in a world with his brilliance.”

~~~

The room was dark except for a single light behind the three men sitting at the table. That single light was sun bright and spotlighted a young girl in a thin cotton sundress.

The girl blocked her eyes and squinted at the men, but they were blocky black shadows in the dark.

“You're certain no one will miss her?”

“Her mother, maybe, but she's no angel. We can paint it as an unfit parent getting help from a wealthy, softhearted celebrity and then turning on her benefactor. Plus, everyone loves those movies.”

The girl couldn't tell which ones were speaking. Just that in the whole time that she'd been in here two of them had talked about her like she wasn't there and one never said a word.

“What's he saving her from? Health problems? Poverty? We can't have...”

There was more, but she didn't understand it. She looked down at her dress. It was new. A yellow dress like for the summer time with a lady bug on a leaf on it. She grabbed the skirt and looked at it closer. Cold air blew on her bare legs. There were one, two, three spots on one side of the ladybug and one, two, three, four on the other side.

She was so busy counting she hadn't noticed one of the men had gotten closer to her. The light was still behind him and he was bent over so she couldn't see his face.

“What's your name?”

His voice was softer than the other men's. He was the one that hadn't been talking.

“Myra Jean Falloy.”

“Well, Myra Jean. You're going to come with me. Isn't that nice? I make movies and my movies make people happy. Making people happy is good isn't it, Myra Jean?”

She nodded.

“You're going to make me happy, so I can make other people happy.”

He held his hand out, the long shadow of it cut her in half. She hesitated for a moment, thinking of her Mother. She hesitated, but then relents. She is a child. It's her job to trust adults.

Home Coming ( Available Now on KINDLE!)

HOME COMING by LELA GWENN

Dulce Flor-- That's what Bianca's husband calls her. Sweet Flower. Quiet, sweet, shy-- those were all credits to her character in the early days of her marriage. But now? He's off for yet another business trip and Bianca worries that her inhibited nature might be driving a wedge between them. She'll have to figure it out before his Home Coming.

**Warning: This is a very explicit novella. Features voyeurism, toy play, domination. **

Want a teaser? HERE! 

Go buy it! Review it! 

Teaser Tuesday

** Okay.. so I'm writing and well... that's pretty much it. That's what I have space in my brain pan for. So here is another small snippet of the current WIP. Rough? Yes. But, come on... you like it rough. ;) **

Behind the counter, Front Desk Bitch Sin smiles at Blue. "I didn't have anything on Steve's appointment book today. I need a release form signed."

"One, no one ever calls him Steve. Two, I need the Old Man's pistols and a coupla' hundred bucks."

All the pleasant and perky disappears, her overly done Morticia-Addams-as-Donna-Reed face drawing in to an angry scowl. "Hell no."

Blue's eyes light up with fury. "I know you think he's a paper tiger. That you run this joint and he's just a mascot. But I one hundred percent surely know that he told you that whatever I ask for, whenever I ask-- I get. I also one hundred percent surely know that you will never work in a tattoo shop again if you piss off The Old Man. Check your fucking tattoo history. If you look past the Sailor Jerry rum and your tacky Ed Hardy sunglasses, you'll find him there. Let me put this in terms you might understand. He's Dumbledore, bitch."

Better late than never... TEASER TUESDAY!

*Here is a snippet of my current WIP. I'm not setting the scene. Hope you can figure it out your own self!*

Sun seeped in through the window. Memory and dream mingled, leaving Malcolm unsure if the night of debauchary that flashed through his mind was real or...

Her mouth pressed to his. Sliding down, teeth scraping against his chest, his stomach, his...

Her body, hard and angular, hardly a woman's body at all. But all woman.

Strong limbs grabbing, pulling him in.

Sweet. Desperate. Raunchy. He was deeply and irretrievably in love.

She snored. He loved that too.

Hunger drove his eyes open. Hunger, but not a black hole of emptiness. Just regular, run of the mill,  walked 5 miles, fought or ran from a handful of monsters then got his brains fucked out desperation for a Grand Slam.

She had a dorm fridge and a hot plate, but no food. He could go get food, but not naked. My suit. My beautiful fucking suit. No amount of peroxide was going to get out the blackened blood that crusted those lapels. Melancholy passed like a summer cloud and rolled away. How could he feel bad when a beautiful future laid ahead? This angel of the morning, this sexual dynamo, this queen of demon killers-- she changed everything.

In a tangle of mis-matched sweaty sheets and yellowed caseless pillows she woke, a second dawn. She scrubbed the sleep out of her big brown eyes and yawned. And blinked. And stared.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Not what he hoped for. But since he didn't know her name, there was no room to judge.

"Malcolm. We killed monsters and fucked last night."

"Huh. You'd think I'd remember a thing like that." She threw her legs over the edge of mattress and padded to the corner. Pulling a large shower curtain, she disappeared.

This was not how the first morning with the love of his life was supposed to go.

She came back out, biting her toothbrush, still gloriously naked. "Monsters."

"Yes. Animas. Dead bodies with their faces pulled off, possessed by some sort of demony thing."

"Demony thing? You fight these anime things often?"

"Animas. And no, I'd never seen them before. Last night just sorta happened." He tried to play it cool. Not easy when when you are naked, have dried blood in all your creases and, well... He looked down at his pale, skinny body, His hand dropping over his belly in a vain attempt to hide the paler than pale web of scars that lived there.

"So, you just picked the name Animas?" Her eyes had a flicker of playful doubt.

"No. Well, yes. Well." Malcolm paused for a moment. "You called them that, too."

"Did I? Before or after I killed them?"

"Before." Suddenly, he felt a little dumb. Did he have to be naked right now?

She wandered over to a carelessly neat pile of antique suitcases in the corner. She flipped open the top one.

"And then I had sex with you." She ran her hands over a tidy row of thongs and pulled one out. She flipped open a cigar box and found it empty. "And I didn't even charge you."

"Um, no." He'd pay any amount of money for a pair of underwear. Or a loin cloth. Or even a pair of the tiny panties that she pulled up those long legs.

Much to his dismay, she kept putting on clothes. A sports bra. A pair of tan tropical weight wool trousers. A guinea tee. A beautiful set of suspenders and vest that didn't match the pants, but coordinated perfectly. "That is a really nice suit."

"Great. I freebie fucked a gay guy." She headed back behind the curtain. When she reemerged, her short hair slicked back in a tight pompadour, she looked really … masculine.

"I'm not...you're not..."

"Oh, you one hundred percent surely are, and so am I. Not a very good one, as evidenced by my squatter status and bringing home freebies." She swept her hand around the room in a grand gesture that landed on me. She actually seemed more disappointed by the sight of him than the whole of her dilapidated apartment. She unstacked the luggage and popped it open.

"Here. This is too big for me anyway." She tossed his a worsted wool pair of trousers and a shirt. 

Behind the curtain the makeshift bathroom was mostly just broken pipe sticking out of the ceiling, feeding into a zinc tub. Malcolm had no idea how to turn the water on, so he chose a rag from a Gap-worthy stack, dipped it into the left over water in the tub and began to scrub off the ichor.

The Process

** So in my last entry I posted a first page for the novel I've been working on. I say A first page, because frankly-- There have been MANY.  There were several critiques offered here on the blog ( Thankee kindly!) And one very valued mystery critter who shall remain nameless ( I am, as ever sir, your humble and attendant servant) This is what I cam up with-- A LOT more sentence structure variation and hopefully a stronger sense of place. Let me know what you think!**

Heat and humidity grabbed me. I kept moving. In a few steps, I felt the slight "pop" of walking past my store's magical wards. 

 

I paused and took a moment to breathe in Philly. Above me a sliver of open sky peeked between the jagged teeth of ancient buildings. The city lights obliterated the stars, one of the few things I didn't like about urban living, but a blind man could have seen the shooting star that streaked across just then.

Ambling along, I blithely stepped over clumps of trash on the street. I wondered how many other people had seen the meteorite. My feet carried me down the usual path-- past vomitous ginko trees and over steaming grates. My mind was on home, my comfy couch, my dog and a good book. 

 

Walking with my eyes on the sky was pure, unadulterated dumb. I'd spent my whole life in Philly. I knew better than to wander around, not checking down dark alleys--not peering behind crouching stoops.

He was just crossing the street, or so I assumed. But instead of breezing by, he grabbed my hand. It floated across my chest and then held there. His body snapped behind mine, commanding, like a strong dance partner. It's like we're doing the tango. Time slowed. He held me closer, my arm pinning my body to his. It wasn't until something cold and sharp pressed into the soft space under my ear that I realized just how fucked I was.

First Page Contest!!!

**Thanks to the WONDERFUL Shelley Watters I will be taking part in a first page contest! Any critique is appreciated! I have a  day to get it shaped up before it gets entered. Thanks!!**


ALAMANDINE'S SONG
Adult UF, 80,000 words

I burst out of the door, all goosebumps and cold sweat, and held it closed behind me. Heat and humidity grabbed me. It would take some time to walk off the chill of the store's air conditioner. I started making that happen. In a few steps, I felt the slight "pop" of walking past the store's magical wards. I kept trucking.

I took a moment to breathe in Philly. Above me a sliver of open sky peeked between the buildings. The city lights obliterated the stars, one of the few things I didn't like about urban living, but a blind man could have seen the shooting star that streaked across just then.

I ambled along, happy to have caught a glimpse of the meteor. I wondered how many other people had seen it, even in a city this size. My feet carried me down the usual path toward home, my comfy couch, my dog and a good book. Walking with my eyes on the sky was pure, unadulterated dumb. I'd spent my whole life in Philly. I knew better than to wander around, not checking down dark alleys and not peering behind crouching stoops. 

              He was just crossing the street, or so I thought. But instead of breezing by, he grabbed my hand. Pulled it across my chest. Snapped his body behind mine. I couldn't see him. Time slowed down. It's like we're doing the tango. My assailant used my own arm to pin my body to his. It wasn't until something cold and sharp pressed into the soft space under my ear that I realized just how fucked I was.

A Satisfying Conclusion

 KIDS! Go Play!


**This is it. The last installment. Hope you have enjoyed it!**


Melissa, the Woman

“I don't want to be a little girl anymore.” Melissa whispered into her lover's mouth.

“Then you should get out of that outfit. Like I said, it was a joke. I have your real present here. He presented her with a gift bag. 

 

She peeked inside, obviously pleased with what she saw. She smiled and went to find a place to change.

She had never worn garters before and she worried that maybe she wasn't wearing them correctly. No, she wouldn't allow herself to be dragged down into the insecurity of girl-hood. She was a woman. A women had confidence. Besides, if he was critiquing how she wore her garters, she was doing something really wrong. 

 

A few minutes later, she reemerged from the bathroom. She was now decked out in a blue bustier that made the most of her small breasts by excentuating her tiny waist and picked up the color of her eyes. The garters brought attention to her taut thighs, she figured that was their job and left them to it. She smiled as the look of appreciation on Steve's face warmed her. 

 

“Oh, come here. You look delicious.” Steve stood at the desk, still clothed in his professor gear.

“No. I'm just about done doing as I'm told. I'm here, nearly naked. I've never gotten to see you without your tweed and your tie. I'd very much like to.” She couldn't believe the words were coming out of her mouth. He loosened his tie.

She walked over to the other end of the desk, sat down so that she wasn't facing him and twisted to look at him over her shoulder . He proceeded to strip. Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, he took off his jacket then his tie. When his shirt came off, she inhaled deeply and looked away for a moment to hide her blush. She wouldn't have guessed that he was so built underneath his clothes. The word was ripped. Her mouth watered. 

 

The shoes came off next, his oxblood wingtips were carelessly kicked to the other side of the room. He pulled the end of his belt out, teasing her for a moment before pulling it off. Off came his pants and his underwear in one pull. She finally got to see that the deep lines of muscle that ran from his hips led to...

Oh, sweet Jesus. 

 

The fumbling advances of boys hadn't prepared her for the weapon he was wielding. Her confidence was shaken by the size and the girth of the thing. She could see in his eyes that he read her apprehension. She took it as a challenge. Turning away from him, Melissa leaned back onto the desk and arched her body in a manner she could only imagine was becoming.

From behind, his warm hand slid around her neck cradling her possessively. He paused there, but then continued down pushing his hand under the lace cups of her bustier. He grasped her nipple between his fingers and gently tweaked. Melissa sucked in a deep breath. His fingertips were callused. She didn't expect them to be rough, but she found she quite liked it.

He walked around the desk to stand in front of her. He pressed his palms onto the wood on either side of her bare legs. Leaning in, he planted a kiss between her breasts. He drew a line from his kiss down to her sodden thong and hooked his finger there. With one good jerk he snapped the fabric. Shocked by the violence of the act, Melissa cried out.

Steve snuggled his face into her strawberry blonde hair and chuckled. “I pulled some of the stitches out. I didn't think I'd be able to pull it off on my own.”

She grabbed him up, with the same violence that he ripped her thong, but without the forethought. He tumbled onto her. 

 

There they were. No more impediments between them, no position, no parents, not even the thin fabric of her thong. She would wait no longer. She reached down and grabbed his member. It was his turn to cry out. 

 

He pushed a little, entering her with such sweet agony that her eyes rolled back in her head. When she recovered her senses, she began to move in concert with him, matching him thrust for thrust. He showered her with little kisses and sighs as he met her body with his own. She let her fingers play, through his hair, down his chest, around his hips. Grabbing her ass and pulling her closer, he upped the tempo. In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck and matched his intensity. She screamed as the intensity and need came to a crescendo inside her.

“I can't hold out much longer.”

Melissa didn't bother with a discussion about it. She pushed him away, then pulled him in as she spun, switching places with him. She dropped to her knees before the man she had been daydreaming about for years and took him into her mouth. 

 

She could taste him, his immanent climax salty on her tongue. She could taste herself, the flavor of lust all grown up. She licked and sucked, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could manage. When he came it was a welcome surprise.

All's Well that Ends Well

Packed bags were neatly arranged in the foyer, but all the guests were still in the dining room. No one was eager to leave Summerland Estate. 

 

“I'm not sure I got a lot of writing done this weekend.” Rena smiled, hoping her face didn't betray the fact that she really didn't care about the lack of literary stimulation. There was plenty of other stimuli around. 

 

“Well, I think Jez learned a lot.” A blonde man no one had bothered to introduce chimed in. He had shown up out of nowhere. No one bothered to question that either. The pale chica certainly looked a lot more mellow. 

 

Rena looked over at Melissa. The kid's eyes sparkled. Rena couldn't put her finger on it, but something about the girl was different. A little unintentional eavesdropping on a phone conversation between Melissa and what Rena assumed was her mother has left the older woman impressed. It had been a surprisingly genteel, but not one sided conversation. Maybe Rena's first impression of the Melissa as freckles and pigtails wasn't quite accurate.

“I, for one, got exactly what I was looking for.” She gave the Retreat Master-- What was his name, anyway?-- a sly smile that looked anything but childlike. 

 

Crystal came from behind and wrapped her arms around Rena's shoulders. “The cars are here. It's time to go.”

Rena looked up at her beloved and saw the same sparkle in her eyes that the kid...No, can't really call her the kid anymore can I? It's like she picked up a little of the attitude that Miss Jez decided to get rid of.

Crystal bumped Rena's chair with her hip, jolting her out of her reverie. Rena didn't want to go. Didn't want to lose this magic. There was only one regret. For a moment her mind lingered on how it felt to be filled up so completely. His cock had been so much bigger than his fingers...

As if she could read her mind, Crystal bent down and whispered in her ear. “Oh, come on, baby, we have the rest of our lives to play. We'll always have Summerland Estate.”

Realization

Jez wasn't stalling, she just had to check and make sure she had everything. She flipped through her notebook one more time, thrilled by the pages and pages of writing she found there.

Wait a minute.

 

The solarium scene was still in her notebook. She had never turned it in or let anyone read it. What the hell? As everyone else had gone outside, she seized the opportunity and cornered the Retreat Master. 

 

“Did you take my notebook? No, I know you must have. My real questions are how and why? Did you sneak into my room?”

“No. I can't explained what happened here this weekend, but as far as I can tell it happened for everyone. I never got any of the writing that was done, and I didn't take it.”

“So how?”

He didn't answer. He just held his hands up to the ceiling and looked around the foyer.

Jez couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard throaty laughter in the distance.

Rebellion

Rebellion

Jez stared, slack jawed and wide-eyed at the man she had married six years ago. He couldn't be the one that had brought her so much pain. And so much pleasure. Her first instinct was to start yelling, in fact she couldn't stop her lip from twitching up into a snarl. 

 

“No ma'am. I won't allow it.” Brandon switched her breast lightly with the flog. “You hid yourself from me, dear Jezbelinda.” He turned to a large cabinet, opened it and looked in thoughtfully. She could see a plethora of sex toys and implements inside. “You are mine and you kept what was mine hidden away. You will give it to me now. You will.” He turned back to her, this time brandishing an enormous plug in vibrator with a head like a microphone.

Melissa the Girl

Melissa minced into the room, too aware of the shortness of her skirt to pull off the confidence she desperately wanted to exude. The carriage house had been converted into an office, but the décor maintained the antique feel that the rest of Summerland had. 

The desk that sat in the middle of the room was wide and long. She stroked the dark wood top and found it satiny smooth, proof of it's quality and the care it had received over the years. Nothing cluttered its surface, not a blotter, or a pen holder. It struck Melissa as odd. She bent over to open the drawer on the front.

“Melissa. I see you got my little gag gift.”

Melissa froze. Gag gift? This was a joke? She couldn't bring herself to turn around and face Professor Macmillan. Tears pricked her eyes. She straightened herself up quickly. Her one-- apparently foolish – attempt at daring had been to go sans panties under the tiny skirt that he had provided with her gag gift. She was certain that he got quite a peep show to go with his comedy.

“Melissa, why is the outfit funny?” 

 

He was doing what he does. Asking a question that would lead to another question, leading to an answer. Socratic method. It was how he taught, and apparently how he humiliated.

“Because I look ridiculous.”

“And why do you look ridiculous?” 

 

“Because I'm dressed up like a wanton slut?”

“Wrong.” Suddenly, he was right behind her. His lips hung in the air, a whisper away from her ear. Warmth radiated from his body. “It is ridiculous because you are playing at being a little girl. I can't love a little girl, Melissa. I need a full grown woman.”

Realization dawned on Melissa. She'd spent her life busy with “should dos” and “momma wants”. Somehow between fifteen and twenty, nothing had changed for her. She was capable, she could handle herself, yet somehow she managed to get stuck doing the comfortable thing. 

 

Except her writing. It was the one place she was free. She wrote about things she couldn't imaging doing. After all, what would her momma think?

She managed a tight pirouette, pressing herself into Professor...Steve's arms. “I could be a full grown woman, Steve. I just need a nudge.” She thrust her pelvis into his, grinding her mound on his cock. 

 

“Are you certain? This isn't one of those things you can take back.” He looked at her, genuine concern in his blue eyes. 

 

“Are you expecting me to call my Mother and ask permission? Make love to me Steve. Do it properly. I've been at the mercy of incompetent boys up till now. I need a dab hand.”

“I will oblige.” He pulled her in for a soft, slow, and in Melissa's opinion-- expertly crafted kiss.

Submission

Brandon pressed the spongy tip of the plug-in vibe against her clit and turned the power all the way up. Her entire body felt the waves of pleasure as her deepest muscles clenched and released in quick succession. With each release, she felt her need growing. She wanted something inside her.

He didn't turn off the vibe, but he did turn it down a notch.

“What ever you do, don't go putting those beads in my ass.”

Seeing the wild streak in her eyes, he smiled. He got up and retrieved the beads.The quietly buzzing vibrator stayed pressed on her clit. He slowly fed the beads in one at a time. Each time he got a new bead halfway in, her hungry cavity would suck it up and she would shiver and moan. When he got all the beads in, he knelt in front of her. He abandoned the vibe and began prodding her pussy with his tongue.

The heavy vibration had left her clit tingling and a little numb. By the time she could really feel his mouth on her, he was already in full swing. He chose just that moment to tug gently at the string of beads in her ass, awakening her senses in a whole new way. 

 

With each bead came a wash of pleasure. The need for true penetration flared up inside her like a hunger. Her first instinct was to demand that he fuck her. She bit that back. “Please, please.”

“I think you are ready to be let down. Do you promise not to run away? I'm not finished with you. I would be very disappointed in you ran off and left me here with this.” He waved his hard cock at her. 

 

He lowered her gently onto the floor, but did not remove the cuffs from her wrists and ankles. Her feet and hands were a bit tingly. She didn't care. She wanted him. 

 

He removed his pants, then went back to the cabinet. This time he pulled out a large, purple, jelly dong. Excitement fluttered in Jez's chest and all the way down into her loins. 

 

She wanted to scream at him. Command him to fuck her. She didn't. For as much as she liked yelling and demanding and leading, she found herself really enjoying being yelled at. Demanded of. Led. “What would you like me to do?”

“Hands and knees. And don't you dare move.”

He walked around her. She complied. There would be bruises, on her hands, her knees, her wrists, her ankles. She didn't care. She knelt in front of him, taking him in. His long muscular legs, his narrow hips, his wide shoulders. He was an Adonis. How could I take him for granted?

“Do you submit to me? 

 

“I do.” 

 

“Are you ready to truly, completely submit to me?”

“Will you fuck me?

“If I choose. Even if I choose not to-- Will you truly submit?”

“Yes.” She bowed her head, strangely happy to not have any responsibility other than pleasing Brandon. He unshackled her hands and her feet. 

 

“Lay down on your back. Hands over your head. Wrists together.” She complied with each directive as he barked it out. “Knees up. Feet flat on the floor.” 

 

A stack of pillows sat in the corner of the room. Brandon grabbed a few and shoved them under her ass, propping her up. He brandished the dong at her, with mock menace. At least, she hoped it was mock menace.

Lining up the dildo with her sopping wet pussy, he pressed it so the head just opened her inner lips. Her hips bucked in response. 

 

“Don't.” She listened to the command and stilled herself. “Is this what you want? To be filled up? For me to cram this fake dick up your cooze until you scream?”

She'd never heard him use such rough language. How was it possible for her to be offended and turned on at the same time? How could he hurt her so bad and make her feel so...

The thought was cut off by Brandon plowing the purple jelly into her with a vehemence she had never experienced before. She teetered on the edge, pain and pleasure mixing. She was so close. Close, but not getting there.

“Not working? Latex just ain't doing it for you, is it?” 

 

She didn't answer, couldn't. She only managed to whimper, the need to have something-- him-- inside her and get off was so great. She couldn't do anything.

“I can take care of that for you. If you ask nicely.”

It took a moment to collect herself, but she made the effort. “Yes. Please. Please. Please.”

“Please, what?” 

 

“Please, make love to me.”

“Hmm. I changed my mind. I don't want you to ask nicely. I want you to grovel. To beg for it. Tell me what you want me to do, and don't be shy about. You are never shy in your stories. Don't be shy now.”

“I want you to put your cock in me.”

“Cold.”

“I want you to ram your stiff prick in my slit and make me come.”

“Warmer.”

“Please, Master. Fill me up with your magnificent cock. Give me every inch of your manhood. I'll take everything you got, even though it will hurt. Fuck me till you spill your seed deep in my slit. I beg you. Please. Please. Fuck me.” She started off strong, but she ended in a mewling whimper.

“That is red hot, baby.”

He plowed into her with his cock, stretching her to her limits and beyond. He pumped, banging into the bottom of her depths with each stroke. Waves of euphoria washed over her. Jez reached her final peak just as Brandon's dick spasmed and swelled, then filled her with his own release.

Admit / Breakfast Alone

 Hey KIDS! Go PLAY

** Sticky stuff ahead. And leather. You have been warned**

Admit

“Did you like watching them fuck one another? Did you enjoy watching them rut like animals? Did it make your cunt wet?” He was walking slow circles around her as she hung from the swing. His face and chest were covered with a leather mask and collar that extended to below his nipples. He knelt before her and shoved his tongue in deep. The leather of his mask rubbed roughly against her clit. Jez didn't want to respond, but her treacherous body betrayed her.

“Just as I thought. Wet. Swollen. You are a whore and I am going to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“No. You don't understand. I wasn't...” Jez didn't even know what lie to tell. How could she explain away sitting in the rain fingering herself while watching other people have sex?

“Shut up. There's only one way out of this. Admit and Submit. Confess to your dirty deeds and allow me to have my way.”

“I'm totally at your mercy. You can do anything you want to me, I can't stop you.” The realization of just how helpless she was put her on the edge of panic.

“That's not submission. That's rape. I don't want to rape you. I want you to ask for it. To beg for it. To do whatever it takes to get it.”

“Not bloody likely.” Jez did her best to look defiant, despite her precarious situation.

“But I know what you like.” The masked man pulled out what looked like a flogger with a long handle. Jez had never experienced one before, but she had researched them and used them often in her stories.

He started with soft taps, barely grazing her ass with the tasseled end of the whip. She could feel her cheeks pinking up. He increased the intensity of his strikes, smacking her inner thighs and the cleft of her ass. Just when the sting was getting to the unbearable point, he held the flogger up to her face.

“You like that don't ya, you little whore? This has an extra feature you are gonna love.”

He flipped the flogger over and pushed the hard plastic handle in her face. Then he walked around her and struck her-- hard-- with the flogger. Pressing the handle onto her pussy, he flipped a switch. Vibrations ran straight from her clit to her brain, making the whole world seem fuzzy and unreal. A moan escaped her lips. She bit down on it, forcing it back down.  

Control yourself, she thought. She couldn't let her body betray her.

Despite her best efforts, or maybe because of them-- her body continued to respond. Alternately he fucked her with the handle, vibrated her clit, licked her pussy and flogged her without mercy. Her pussy was dripping enough to make a puddle on the floor beneath her. She didn't want to want this.

She wanted this.

“Please.” She whimpered as the last tremors of an orgasm racked her body.

“Please, what?”

“Fuck me.”

“That sounds like an order. I don't take orders.” He went through another round, lashing her outer lips with the flog, sending electricity running through her.

“No. I'm begging. Please. Put your cock in me, please. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything. I need you to fuck me.”

“First you must admit what you are.”

“I'm a dirty whore.” She said it in a breathy whisper.

“Not Good Enough!” He attacked her again and she realized that up till now he had shown amazing control. He grabbed the swing and buried his face in her snatch, licking, nipping, putting his whole face into her. Pain and pleasure met in a crescendo. He squeezed her ass, digging his short fingernails in to her ample flesh.

“I'm a dirty slut. I love to think about fucking, talk about fucking, write about fucking. I love cocks and balls and whips and dildos. I love FUCKING!” She screamed out the words as she came harder than ever before.

Her masked captor stepped back. Reaching behind him he carefully unzipped the leather mask. With the other hand he pulled it off, slowly. Jez was shocked to see her name emblazoned on his chest.

Breakfast Alone

No one was around for breakfast, which was a real shame. Melissa had been looking forward to the scrambled eggs she had been promised the night before. It was probably for the best, though. She wasn't certain she could explain herself if anyone did show up. She had time to kill, so she went into the kitchen, dug up some cereal and ate. 

 

I must be quite a sight, sitting here eating cereal in this get up. She thought to herself. It was the right thought to have. It was the appropriate mortified-by-my-own-body response. Melissa couldn't figure whether her mother would be more humiliated by her wearing the scanty school-girl outfit, or ungraciously turning down a gift. 

 

I'm a good girl. I'll do as I'm instructed. The card told her to be at the carriage house at ten. While all the men-- including the mysterious gentleman who had shown up in the middle of the night-- were attractive, Melissa couldn't help but fantasize about finding the Professor there. Alone. 

 

With her luck that bitch Jez would be there, in the same outfit. She would go on and on— loudly-- about how you need tits to fill out an outfit like this. Melissa bent over and pulled her tits up in her bra. It wasn't much, but it was what she had to work with. Sparing a glance at the clock, she realized that it was getting late. She rinsed her bowl and went to find the carriage house.

All the pieces in their places

 ** A quiet interlude before things heat up again**

Surprise

Rena's were not the only busy fingers. Outside, in the storm, Jez had forgotten all about the “Retreat Master”. She was so engrossed in the unfolding story that when her hand made its way down to her slit, she could not help but try and fill the need she found there.

Between the storm and her distraction, she had no chance to escape the man who was sneaking up on her. When the bag was thrown over her head, she was three fingers deep and headed toward heaven.

In the West Wing

Melissa slept through the storm like a child. Looking over her slack, innocent face the Retreat Master knew-- this would be her last night of innocence.

In The Slave Quarters

Jez woke up with a start. Where was she? Why was she naked? Was she hanging above the ground? Indeed, when her full senses came to her she found herself hanging, naked, sitting on a kind of leather swing. Restraints held her both hand and foot.

“Help! Someone!” She yelled but she knew it was useless. She wasn't even sure she was at the estate anymore. The sun was up, but it did very little to brighten the room. How long had she been here?

Someone was there. She heard the shuffle of feet behind her. She tried her best to look over her shoulder to see who it was, but to no avail. “Let me go! I demand that you let me go. You will not believe the level of shit that will rain down upon you if you do not release me right now.” 

 

“No, no, no. I'm in control now. All you can do is sit back and let it happen. Submit to my will. Give yourself to me.” The voice sounded familiar, but the words were so foreign that Jez couldn't place it. 

 

“When I found you, you were being very naughty. Watching those nice people fuck one another. Touching yourself as you watched. You'll have to be punished for that.”

The Gift

Despite a bit too much wine, Melissa woke without an alarm clock at eight thirty as she had most of her life. For a moment, she looked around, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. 

 

Her adventure rushed back to her. She was at Summerland Estate at a writer's retreat. With Professor Macmillan. She had watched a bondage porn tape. She'd never even seen a regular porn tape before, much less one where people tied each other up and did...things. 

 

She hopped out of bed and was stopped cold by a box sitting on her dresser. She'd had way too much wine last night, but she didn't remember seeing the lavishly wrapped present. She couldn't resist it. She grabbed it jumped back on the bed and began carefully untying the big pink bow.

Rena's Choice

** Nothing in today's LONG post is safe for work, nor for Children. Please KIDS! Go be KIDS!   

 Featuring F/F/M**

Rena's Choice

Crystal's bare yoni was sitting on her thigh, so Rena knew exactly how turned on her lover was at the moment.

“Kiss me?” Crystal asked, and while their mouths were mingling, Marcus moved to kneel behind Rena's chair. She felt him there and her body stiffened. Crystal noticed. She cradled Rena's face in her hands. “We won't do a thing that you don't want to. There's just so much I want to share with you.” She laid another soft kiss on Rena's lips, then her jaw, and her neck. She whispered into her Latina lover's ear, “and he has plenty to share!”

Rena giggled a little nervously and looked over her shoulder at Marcus. The effect that the two women had on him was obvious. Indeed, he proved that the stereotype was well earned. She cast her eyes back at her lover, with her muscular arms and her strong thighs.

“Please, say it's okay Rena. I want to, but I'll stop if you aren't alright with it.” Crystal's hair covered her face, so Rena couldn't see her expression, but she could hear the shame. If Rena didn't do this now, would Crystal ever be rid of that shame? Could they continue to love and be loved if she always felt judged? Would it be so bad to try?

Rena had to admit that the smooth, toffee-colored man that knelt behind her was intriguing. The fact that he had stayed silent all this time-- not cajoling or trying to hustle her-- spoke volumes. Plus, there was the curiosity factor. How could she write about a type of sex that she had never actually had? Well, once. But losing your virginity in the back seat of a Nova sixteen years ago hardly counted.

Instead of answering, Rena pushed Crystal's hair out of her face and kissed her. It was a deep, thrusting, tongue-twisting kiss. A kiss that produced a new gush of warmth from Crystal onto Rena's thigh.

“I don't...”

Reading Rena's thought, Crystal silenced her with a kiss. “Just let us. We'll do all the work.”

As if on cue, both Crystal and Marcus stood up. He swept Rena out of the chair and carried her to the bed. He sat her down, scrambled onto the high mattress, then sat with his back to the headboard, his legs splayed out in front of him.

Crystal wrapped her arms around Rena, trailing her fingers up and down her back. Finally, she grabbed Rena's bra and popped the hooks like a pro. When Rena's generous bosom was exposed, Crystal latched on, licking and suckling till Rena felt like her nipples were going to fall off, they were so hard. Rena warily noted Marcus, out of the corner of her eye. He was enjoying himself, but seemed perfectly content to sit and watch for now, idly rubbing his extremely turgid cock. Rena marveled at his self control.

Crystal gestured with her head for Rena to back up and make space for her on the bed. Marcus spread his legs and patted the bed between them. She complied, leaning her back carefully against him. Crystal crawled in after her. There they were-- three shades of people. From Marcus' toffee skin, to Rena's deep olive tint, to Crystal's tan, yet still white, complexion-- they covered the spectrum. Crystal laid between Rena's knees, looking up at her expectantly.

“May Marcus touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like for Marcus to touch you?”

“Si.”

Rena felt Marcus' pinga jump at her answer. It surprised her, but not as much as the feeling in engendered in her pussy. Suddenly, she wanted very much for Marcus to touch her.

Marcus reached around and cupped both of Rena's tits in his hands. They were big hands, but her tetas still overflowed them. Cautiously, at first, and then with more confidence, he began to nibble on her neck and ear. His hands were softer than she expected. He used them to knead her breasts and tweak her nipples.

Not one to be left out, Crystal began a trail of licks and nibbles of her own. Starting inside Rena's left knee, she traced a slow line with her mouth up the Latina's thigh.

As Crystal made progress toward her center, Rena went from a quiver, to gasping trembles, to full body vibration complete with moaning. She was aware of the effect that her writhing had on Marcus' hard shaft as Crystal got closer and closer to her cocha. It was like the world's best lap dance, and his breath quickened with every shimmy.

Finally, she made it. Her tongue parted Rena's inner lips and playfully laved her clit, earning a quick in breath and a rain of pussy juice. Crystal shoved her tongue inside, licking up every bit of nectar and spreading it around with slow, soft, flat-tongued stokes. Rena's body went stiff as she came, her back arching, her hips coming off the bed. Crystal took this opportunity to attack her clit with quick flicks of her tongue, driving Rena to a new level of release.

Crystal heaved herself up to kiss Rena, the taste of sweet pussy juice still fresh on her lips. She placed her knee in the vertex of Rena's thighs and gently pressed in as she reached over Rena's head to kiss Marcus. This arrangement had the added bonus of thrusting Crystal's breasts into Rena's face.

Crystal quickly grew tired of this arrangement. She clambered over Rena's outstretched leg and pulled her further down the bed and onto her side. Both of Rena's lovers stretched themselves out along her sides, Marcus near her head, Crystal beside her legs. Marcus reached over and put two fingers on top of her bushy mound. He looked at her for permission. She nodded, gasping as his long fingers made their way past her labia and deep into her secret space. He held steady for a moment, and without conscious thought Rena bucked her hips forcing his fingers deeper.

Thought was only going to get in Rena's way, so she let go. When Crystal stuck her fingers in her mouth to lube them up, then gently began probing her asshole, Rena gave way to her animal nature and allowed pleasure and pain to mingle, creating a roaring void inside her mind. Needing to do something— anything-- to express what was happening inside her, Rena reached out and grabbed Marcus' cock.

At first she moved out of need. She wrapped her full lips around his shaft and began to lick and suck. When her sense started to come back to her, it dawned that she had never sucked cock before. She was surprised by it's sponginess, how smooth and soft the skin was, how it jumped and twitched in response to her tongue. It was long and thick, easily as big as the dildos that Crystal often used. Now that she had control she tried to be gentle, worried that she would hurt him. But as they filled all of her up, she lost control and began fucking him with her mouth, pausing only to nip at the head or graze his balls with her tongue.

Marcus splayed his hand across her chest, preventing her from making him come. It dawned on Rena that she was being a bit selfish. Poor Crystal hasn't gotten her due. She deserved to come the way Rena had, over and over again. Rena took charge.

After a confused moment of rearranging bodies, Crystal ended up on her hands and knees with Rena's mouth poised below the fairer woman's sex and Marcus behind. Rena started by licking at Crystal's clit, Marcus started off easy-- preferring to prime Crystal with his fingers first. She moaned quietly with pleasure, but Rena was determined. She would make her little Amazon scream.

“Put your cock in her.” Rena panted as she assaulted Crystals pussy with her tongue. She lapped and probed and suckled, as Marcus filled her inch by inch. Rena had fucked Crystal many times with a strap on. She knew exactly what her lover liked. “Push down. She likes it when you rub the front.”

She heard Crystal's breath get ragged. “Harder. She likes to be fucked.” A high pitched keening developed in the back of Crystal's throat, but it wasn't enough. “Now deep. Full strokes. And don't you dare come until my baby screams for mercy!”

He was going hard, ramming his stiff member into her as hard as he could, dropping his weight into each stroke for good measure. She was close. But not yet there. Rena snaked her way out from underneath, knowing what she had to do. She spread Crystal's cheeks and lubed up her pucker with a mixture of spit and the juice from her own swollen, wet pussy. She locked eyes with Marcus.

“Take her over the edge. She needs this.” He planted the head of his cock in her rear entrance and pressed. After a moment's resistance it relented, opening to him without losing its sweet pressure. Crystal went from a low moan to a heavenly alto. Marcus joined her, a short baritone exclamation that marked his own release. Rena let her all of her senses feast on the tableau before her. She busied her fingers until they had three part harmony.

The Game

 ** I so wanted to get the whole scene in here...it was just too long! Don't worry I shant tease much longer! **

The Solarium

Crystal must have had more wine than I paid attention to, Rena thought, curious and concerned in equal measures. Marcus had knocked on their door about twenty minutes earlier, claiming insomnia brought on by the big old house and the storm. Crystal had apparently been dying to see the house all day, and who better to give them the fifty cent tour? 

 

They had snuck around, checking out the music room, the kitchen, and the formal parlor. Crystal had marveled aloud at the storm still raging outside and Marcus had suggested checking out the solarium. 

 

The solarium was set up as a bedroom, a nod to the days before air conditioning when the best one could hope for was a cool breeze through an open window. The walls were nothing but windows. Glass from floor to... Actually, the ceiling was glass as well. Little cranks held the windows shut tight against the wind and rain. The bed even had a clever little canopy made of netting that dropped down and kept the bugs at bay.

“Come on, Rena! Marcus is dealing. You in or what?” Crystal was usually “in-charge-Amazon”, but Rena had never seen her quite so flirtatious and forward as she was tonight. She kept reaching out, fingers brushing his hand, his back.

Rena turned away from them, a little annoyed by the betrayal of her lover, and her own body. She could feel warmth building in her cocha with each of Crystal's coquettish touches. They were playing poker. She gave it three hands before the suggestion of strip poker came up. Rena glanced over her shoulder at the card players.

“So.” Wide brown eyes sparkled with delight. Crystal licked her lips and tugged on her necklace, subconsciously bringing attention to both her full lips and her small, firm breasts. 

 “How 'bout we make this game interesting?”

Rena whirled around. That was fast.

In the Storm

The wind carried rain under the covered walkway, soaking through the thin fabric of Jez's shirt, causing it to cling to her breasts and belly. She wasn't paying any attention to the cold or the rain. It was happening. 

 

They were playing cards, all three players stripped to their undergarments. Crystal was holding her cards high, her brown eyes peering over the top with playful shrewdness. “If I'm not mistaken, you two are about to be naked.”

“Uh uh uh! I still have socks on.” Marcus pointed down at his foot.

“Playing like that, nobody wins.” Jez mouthed the words as Crystal said them. It was just the way she had wrote it, Crystal had even gotten the petulant tone right.

Jez couldn't spare a glance for the snooty “Retreat Master”. After a bit of playful verbal jousting the blonde and the bellboy were naked. They turned their attention on the Latin woman. She was a better poker player than either of them, or at least she wasn't playing to lose. Rena was still sitting there in her bra and panties, carefully watching the events unfolding before her. 

 

“Rena?” Sing-song, playful-- the name had been different in Jez's story, but the effect was the same. The athletically built blonde straddled her curvy lover, looking deep into her hazel eyes. “Rena, won't you come play with us? It's been a long time since I played this game, but if you want to I'll show you how.” 

 

Jez felt her nipples tighten up in response to seeing them. It was just what she had seen in her mind.