by Violet Blue
“But…where are you—?” Jack sputtered.
“Don’t worry, Jack. I am so coming back.” She scampered happily out to her car and snatched her toy bag from the backseat. On a whim she’d thrown it in, hoping for the courage to tell Jack that she was a kinky bitch after which she hoped he’d enthusiastically just go with the program. She’d never been so happy that she’d followed a whim.
Literally skipping back to the door, she came in to find Jack exactly where she’d left him in the kitchen. He still looked a tad bewildered. She took his hand and led him to the couch, sitting down and patting the couch next to her as she opened the red velvet bag. Jack sat down, still holding the dildo in one hand and looking like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. This felt inevitable, Cindy thought, but there was always a possibility things could go wrong, even at this point. So she chose her words cautiously.
“Jack, listen carefully. It’s all good, honey. I love that you’re into ass play. Guess what? So am I! Look, I’ll show you.” Jack’s eyes got big when she pulled out a purple dildo and took the black one from him, putting them side by side. “See? I told you yours was bigger!” She laughed. Jack joined in, finally starting to relax a little.
“No fucking way, Cindy! You gotta be kidding me!” His eyes sparkled and he couldn’t have been smiling any bigger.
“Oh, but wait…there’s more!” She glanced back and forth and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Not only do you get the dildo and the steak knives…” She giggled. “You get the handy-dandy, ultra-sexy…dildo holder!”
Cindy pulled out her supple black harness and the scent of luxurious leather came with it. Her antics inspired raucous laughter from them both.
“We have the technology!” Her words spurred even more frivolity. Cindy took the black dildo and put it through the O-ring, snapping the tabs back into place. She held it up for Jack to see. The bulge in his jeans spoke volumes. His eyes were filled with a deep and immediate need as he looked at her. She stood up, grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him into the bedroom.
“I am so going to slide this right up your ass and fuck you. Get those clothes off, right now.” She could tell that Jack could barely contain himself.
“I like it when you use that tone, Cindy.” Jack’s voice was rough. He was naked and standing before her in record time, stroking his stiff cock. Cindy tried to race him, but he was so fast she didn’t stand a chance. When she was finally as naked as he was, his words registered and she looked up quickly.
“Seriously?” She eyed him intently.
“Cindy, I have never been more serious in my life.” Jack’s face was open and filled with such a longing it shook her a little. He knelt before her diminutive frame.
“I…am yours.”
Three words, so powerful in their meaning and stark simplicity. She felt the wetness and throbbing of desire between her legs. This was a fucking dream come true. And to think she was afraid he wouldn’t be kinky. Not only was Jack kinky, he was precisely the right kind of kinky. What were the chances?
“Oh, Jack.” She motioned for him to stand up and they kissed. She pulled him hard against her. One hand snaked between them and she squeezed his cock, caressed his balls. He was standing at the foot of the bed, and she pushed him backward onto it with no warning. His arms flailed at first and then he laughed and relaxed into his fall.
Cindy climbed on top of him and sat her juicy wetness right down on his firm cock. She closed her eyes and began to slide back and forth slowly, pushing his hard cock against his belly to thrill her clit, riding the ridge of it.
“No coming until I give you permission, Jack.” Her words had an edge and she felt his cock throb in response before he answered. Excellent.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Oh baby! Jackpot with Jack. Silly things like that ran through her head until the sensation of her wet, slick cunt on his rock-hard cock took over everything. Heaven. Cindy rode him just like that, angling her body for the most intensity. His cock was hers to enjoy. He was hers.
“May I?” His words were spoken softly, as if hesitant to interrupt. Cindy opened her eyes and saw Jack’s hands poised in front of her breasts.
“Yes.” The word was breathy with her excitement. Jack knew what she liked. He flicked her nipples and lightly pinched them, sending currents of electricity straight to her pussy. She sped up her motion and pressed her clit harder against Jack’s raging cock. She was almost there.
This man was hers! The thought of his submission, and fiery scenes of what she intended to do with that gift, pushed her over the edge into a sweet, pulsing orgasm with waves of quivering bliss. She stopped sliding and lay down against him, kissing him deeply. Jack ran his hands up and down her back, meeting her dancing tongue with soft lips. His cock was soaked, and he’d never even been inside her.
“Well done, Jack.” He smiled at her postorgasmic half-lidded sensuality. Cindy rolled off him slowly and padded out to her toy bag, still on the couch. She grabbed some lube and brought it into the bedroom, throwing it on the bed. Then she stepped into her harness, the big black dildo waving in front of her, and buckled it firmly in place. Jack watched with lust in his eyes.
“Time for the tell-all, Jack. Have you ever been fucked?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“Have you had this baby completely in your ass before?” She grabbed the dildo as she spoke.
“Yes, Ma’am. Many times.” Cindy smiled. The word jackpot came in her mind for the third time that night. Okay, time for a new metaphor. This was so much better than any jackpot she’d ever won at Vegas! Jack was like a gift that just kept on giving.
“How much warm-up do you need?”
“Well…none, Ma’am.”
“Jack…I am impressed!” He smiled, just a little embarrassed. She climbed on the bed and gestured for him to move over, lying down where he’d just been.
“Ride it, baby.” She pointed to her cock as she slathered it with lube.
Jack straddled her and took the bottle of lube from her. He squirted some on his fingers, reached back and applied it to his ass. Cindy watched with fascination. His eyes were closed and his hips were undulating a bit as he worked his fingers in a little. Then Jack positioned himself over Cindy, placing the head of her dildo against his ass.
“May I?” He didn’t need her permission, but seemed to want to ask for it anyway.
“You may.” She nodded.
Jack slowly sank down onto her toy, moving his hips slightly to help get the head in. His mouth opened with pleasure and he moaned. He let himself down gradually until he sat lightly on her, the entire dildo inside his ass. Cindy gave him a little time to adjust.
She did not often play the part of the pillow princess with a strap-on. Normally she was all about thrusting and driving her toy deep into her partner’s ass. But tonight she was in the mood to watch Jack…fuck himself. And what a show it looked like it was going to be. His blond hair messy and curly, strands of it fell on his forehead. His muscular chest and farmer’s tan were magnificent, and those thighs were surely strong enough to keep him going for a long time. They’d better be.
“Okay, Jack, I want to see fifty long, slow strokes. Count them aloud. And don’t you dare come.” Cindy smiled wickedly.
“As you wish, Ma’am.” Jack’s brows were drawn together in that look of painful passion as he began to ride…and count. He whimpered and gasped and moaned between his counting. Once she thrust off the bed deep into him with no warning and got an “Oh!”
He managed to get to fifty and his cock was leaking a steady stream of precome onto her belly. She slicked her fingers in it and rubbed the head of his cock, making him gasp. She stroked his cock a few times, spreading the puddle on her belly all over his cock.
“Oh! God! Cindy… Ahhh!”
Jack was trying so hard not to come. She was purposely pushing that line, stroking his cock, enjoying the desperate tone in his voice. Normally, desperation did not please her. But a situation wh
ere the desperation involved a man trying so very hard not to cross over the line into ecstasy? She loved that dynamic. She loved the control. And Jack was turning out to be very… controllable.
“Another fifty.” Her voice was stern and she looked him right in the eye when she said it.
He hesitated just a moment. “…If it pleases you, Ma’am.” He said the words right back at her, never looking away. He was breathing hard and his thighs were trembling…but he began again.
This time it was so evident that he was right on the edge that she didn’t dare touch his cock. The stream of liquid from his cock increased, as did his moans.
He’d reached thirty-five when Cindy ordered, “Stop.” His relief was obvious.
“Listen carefully, Jack…I want you to complete the last fifteen without stopping for any reason. Got it?”
“Yes I do, Ma’am.”
Cindy grabbed his cock and said, “And I’d do them quickly if I were you….”
She began pumping Jack’s cock and she watched him suddenly understand her intent. He started bouncing hurriedly on her cock and immediately felt his orgasm build past the point of holding it back as her hand matched his rhythm.
“Four, five, six, seven!” Jack managed to get in two more strokes down onto Cindy’s toy before his come started shooting all over Cindy’s breasts. Now each stroke in his ass and on his cock was almost unbearable with extra-sensitive sensations.
“AHH! Ten, eleven, TWELVE!!” He yelled the numbers. She knew what a mix of pain/pleasure this was…how much he wanted to stop…but he kept going! She took pity on Jack and stroked only his shaft.
“Thirteen! Fourteen Oh GOD!” He let out a sob and lifted himself one more time and slid back down. “Fifteen!” She pumped his cock, which was starting to soften, one last stroke. Then she let it go and watched him tremble for a while with complete sensory overload. She beckoned him down to her. Her cock still planted in his ass, Jack leaned heavily into her arms, still making small sounds in the back of his throat with each breath.
Cindy kissed him tenderly and stroked his back and neck as he calmed down. Eventually he climbed off that big black dildo and collapsed next to her, speechless. Cindy took off the harness and took it to the bathroom, leaving it in the sink and returning with a warm wet towel she used to clean them both up. Jack could hardly stand the touch of the towel on his cock, it was so sensitive. Cindy took Jack into her arms and held him, his face on her chest. His breathing slowly returned to normal.
She pulled the covers up and turned out the light as Jack faded off to sleep.
He…is mine.
NYOTAIMORI
Rose de Fer
I am lying as I have been trained. On my back, perfectly still. My knees are bent, my legs open and rotated out to the sides by 180 degrees. My feet are pressed together, sole to sole. Red silk ropes bind my ankles and wind gracefully around my knees to where they are fastened underneath the table, keeping me open, exposed. My arms are crossed in the small of my back and bound beneath me. The position forces my back to arch, pushing my chest up and out. I feel like a butterfly, pinned and displayed for a discriminating collector. A connoisseur.
They have given us all Japanese flower names and I am secretly pleased with mine: Oniyuri. It’s the word for tiger lily, my favorite flower. They said it matched my flame-colored hair, my simmering passion.
The table beneath me is warm, but the food presented on my naked skin is not. A rainbow of sashimi is fanned across my belly: salmon, tuna, mackerel and yellowtail. Across my ribs is an array of sushi. Between my breasts are cuts of eel, drizzled with rich teriyaki sauce. And carefully arranged around my nipples are clutches of salmon roe, the eggs vibrant and bursting. Soft purple orchids frame my sex, and in the diamond formed by my spread and angled legs is a painted flask of warm sake.
I breathe slowly, shallowly, so as not to disturb the presentation of food. The smell is intoxicating and I long for a bite of fish, the tingle of ginger and wasabi on my tongue. But for now I am merely a decoration, an attractive display for the artfully arranged delicacies. In other rooms, other girls are bound as I am, their bodies serving the same erotic aesthetic. From somewhere I can hear the melancholy notes of a shamisen being played by one of the hostesses.
I feel the cool touch of Ayame’s fingers as she gently lifts the flask from between my legs. My body heat has warmed the sweet wine and I close my eyes, listening to the soft splash as she fills each guest’s cup. The sleeve of her silk kimono brushes my skin as she moves past me. When she is done she replaces the flask, pressing it firmly up against my sex. I imagine her playful smile as I resist the temptation to squirm against it.
“Kanpai!” say the two couples seated around me. They drink deeply after the toast and I listen for the clatter of chopsticks as their eyes roam over the food on offer.
My senses are highly attuned to the slightest sound, the slightest scent. The lady to my right is wearing a beautiful fragrance that has something of jasmine in it. It mingles with the salty fish, creating a strange perfume of its own. I think of serene Japanese gardens and koi ponds.
She is the first to select a bite. I lie motionless as her chopsticks skillfully lift a slice of fish from my belly and she sighs with pleasure at its taste. My chest barely rises as I breathe.
“Delicious,” she says, her voice low and husky.
The man across from her at my left shoulder must be her husband. He goes next, choosing one of the sushi rolls farther up my body. He prods my ribs with his chopsticks, deliberately I suspect. But I am too well trained to react. There is as much an art to eating from a woman’s body as from being the platter that presents the food. My mouth waters and my sex moistens but those are the only responses I am allowed.
The pair sitting on either side of my lower half discusses where to begin. They have soft American accents and I add blue California skies to the images in my head. They choose together, symmetrically, snatching up two pieces of dragon roll from opposite sides and exclaiming over the taste.
Ayame refills their sake cups, this time grinding the flask a little harder against me as she replaces it. I smile inwardly at her challenge, enjoying the tingle it sends up through my body. I already have gooseflesh from the cold food arrayed on my skin and my nipples have puckered beneath the salmon roe.
One by one the sashimi slices and maki rolls and nigiri rolls disappear from my flesh. The American lady comments that it’s like uncovering a hidden treasure.
The jasmine lady’s husband chuckles at that. “And such a treasure,” he says. He gently removes a single salmon egg the size of a pea from the clutch with his chopsticks and lifts it to my mouth. I imagine he is keen to make me react in some inappropriate manner. Perhaps he wants to see me punished. My pulse quickens at the thought.
My eyes convey nothing but gratitude for his offering as he places the tiny soft egg against my lips. With only the slightest movement I part them just enough to taste the salty juice with the tip of my tongue. It is heavenly. I close my eyes as I slowly draw the egg inside my mouth, bursting it between my teeth. It’s only one little taste, one tiny bit of flavor, but it makes me sigh with pleasure. It mingles with the delicious scents all around me. The fish, the ginger, wasabi and soy sauce, his wife’s perfume… I feel myself growing even damper against the flask of sake, and I clench my inner muscles to intensify the sensation.
I hear Ayame’s soft laugh. I might conceal my secret maneuvers from the guests, but I can never hide anything from her. My eyes meet hers and she smiles. Her face is slightly flushed, and I imagine I can smell her own desire beneath the silken kimono.
“Drink with us,” the American man says.
He holds out his sake cup but Ayame shakes her head demurely and produces one of her own, murmuring her gratitude as she sits at the end of the table. I can’t help imagining how much more exposed I would feel with my feet separated, my legs splayed and tied together beneath the table, my dampening sex on shameless display.
>
Looking down the length of my body I can just make out the top of her head, her glossy black hair swept into an elaborate geisha style. She is the only Japanese girl in the restaurant, a fact that lends her both mystery and playful authority. She allows her fingers to brush against my nether lips as she takes the flask to fill her cup. This time she doesn’t put it back. This time she leaves me wholly on display and my heart starts to beat a little faster.
The jasmine lady scoops up some salmon roe with her chopsticks and her husband immediately does the same. Slowly, slowly they pluck the eggs from me, a few at a time, until they are almost gone. My breasts are smeared with the oily residue and my nipples tighten even more as their movements send cool air over the dampness. I suppress a little shiver.
Only a few pieces of fish and rice remain. If the guests want more the chef will oblige, bringing it out on a wooden platter and carefully placing each specially crafted piece on my body, arranging everything as before. Then the process will begin again. I hope they’re still hungry.
But the American couple seems satisfied. They dab their lips with their napkins and express their appreciation for the food—and its display. I feel their cool fingers on my skin as they stroke me like a pet.
“What a good girl,” the American lady says.
Her husband corrects her. “Good little dish.”
They laugh softly.
Her long red nails travel over my belly to my pelvis, then down my inner thighs. A slight gasp escapes my throat, but I remain absolutely still. Only my skin betrays the excitement of her touch.
“Sayonara,” she whispers. “Until next time.” Then they slip away, padding silently out of the room.
Lady Jasmine and her husband aren’t ready to leave yet and I’m filled with excitement. I sense they want more than just the decadent meal. The man gently gathers the last of the salmon roe from my left breast and holds it up. For a moment I think he’s going to offer it to me. Then he asks Ayame if she’d like a bite.
