Dark Tales Diaries: Volume One

by London Saint James

  “No. He was either on top, or I was. Once or twice we did it doggy style, but that’s it. He liked blow jobs, but wasn’t into giving oral sex.”

  “Ah… So was he a soft lover?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did he touch and caress. Take his time with your body?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Did he ever use his fingers, or toys?”

  “No.”

  “So what turns you on? What do you like?” Thomas asked.

  “I really don’t know,” I said.

  “Well, we are going to find out, Sherri.”

  “Okay.”

  “Take off your clothes. I want to watch you,” he said.

  Heat flushed my throat. “Watch me?”

  “Of course. You are a beautiful woman.”

  “I am?”

  “You don’t know that you are?”

  “No. I guess I kind of feel old.”

  Thomas guffawed. “I assure you, you are not old. You are vibrant.”

  I started to unzip the side zip on my dress then stopped. I felt awkward.

  “Don’t be self-conscience. Would it help if I removed my clothing?”

  “Perhaps,” I said. It was surreal to be removing my clothing while my handsome neighbor Thomas removed his. And when his coat, tie, and shirt came off, I knew my eyes widened. He was built with a hard muscular chest covered in a light speckling of hair. I almost looked away as his pants and boxers came off, but I’m glad I didn’t. He was impressive. Even semi-hard.

  We both stood there, admiring each other, and then he smiled. “My lovely, Sherri. You have nothing to ever worry about. You are superb.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “May I say the same?”

  “You may,” he teased. Thomas came over to where I stood, kissed my lips in a lip on lip caress, and then lifted me up. “I’m going to play. Are you still game?”

  “Yes.”

  He placed me on the table. “Lay back, my dear.” I followed his instructions and laid back. He strapped my arms into some soft restrains above my head. Next, he adjusted my legs into the stirrups, tied off my ankles, and spread my legs wide. “Are you in any discomfort?”

  “Um… No.”

  “I’m going to use a crop,” he said. I swallowed hard. The word crop sounded ominous and exciting. He moved from my view for a moment then came back with a long, black, leather-tipped riding crop. He tapped the crop on the bottom of my foot. I jerked in response. “Sting?”

  “Yes, but not bad.”

  “If at any time you feel uncomfortable and do not wish to go on, tell me, Sherri, and I will stop.”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  Thomas raked the small leather-tipped end over my ribs. The sensation sent a buzz through my body. There was an excitement about this whole thing that I’d never felt before. Perhaps it was nervous anticipation, but I wanted to know what was going to happen next, and how it would feel.

  With a quick flick of his wrist, I felt a sting to my inner thighs. Over and over, up and down the fleshy part of my legs, hips, belly, ribs, arms, he worked me. I started to wiggle, unable to hold in the pleasure.

  Thomas kissed the side of my neck and skidded the leather edge of the crop over my hard as rock nipples. Shockwaves flittered through me, skipped down my belly, and ignited in my vagina. I was wet and felt extraordinary.

  Nuzzling my neck with his mouth, Thomas tapped and flicked my nipples with the tip of the crop, then his mouth took over and he licked, sucked, and bit. With his pearly white teeth, he pulled, elongating my nipple then sucked. When he let loose, it popped from his lips. The feeling was grand. “Sherri,” he said. “I’m not done playing. Are you still game?”

  “Oh, yes,” I muttered.

  The leathery edge of the crop flicked across my clitoris, and I jumped. Yet when Thomas tapped my clitoris in a stinging blow, I needed more.

  “Mmmm… you are so wet,” he said. “May I taste you?”

  “You really want to?”

  “Yes, my dear.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Thomas placed his mouth to my labia and licked. He spread me further, and started rubbing his mouth and nose up my exposed sex before he transitioned into long strokes of his tongue.

  It was the most wonderful experience surging through me. I thought I might catch fire. Unable to contain my need, I rotated my hips. He batted my clitoris in quick motions with his tongue. My hips shot up, but I was restrained so my movements were curbed. He licked then tapped my clit with the crop. Lick. Tap. Lick. Tap. I was mindless.

  “You have a beautiful pussy,” he said. I had no idea what to say to that.

  He tapped my anus with leathered tip, changing up the sensations. My body started to shake. I don’t know where he got his next toy from, and I didn’t care. I just needed to feel what he was going to do to me. My skin tingled.

  When he inserted the head, it was large, but I was so wet it slid right in, then he applied more pressure. The toy became wider, and bigger, stretching me thin, and filling me up.

  “Tell me to fuck you harder, Sherri.”

  “I— I—”

  “Say, ‘Fuck me harder, Thomas.’”

  Something about his voice, the crass words, and the way he was handling me with his toy sent me over the edge. “Fuck me harder!”

  Thomas laughed, and the sound was a flash point to my already heated body. He fucked me slowly, increasing the pace until I begged for more.

  “Oh, God, yes! Fuck me, Thomas.”

  “You want more?”

  “Yes, Thomas. More.”

  He worked me hard with the toy, in and out of my stretched sex, while his other hand kept up the tapping of the leather on my clit, my anus. I lost all semblance of control, fucking his toy back, wanting the stinging blows to punish my hooded nub and forbidden pucker, and when I thought I would die of pleasure, I released years of pent-up frustrations in an overwhelming, earth-quaking climax, which transitioned into a second, a third, and a fourth.

  “Thomas, my God!” I screamed, body writhing, pussy clasping around his toy, and he not relenting until he wrenched one more orgasm free from my body.

  He placed a demure kiss to my belly. “I told you,” he said. “Not frigid.”

  I laughed and cried. My tears were a mixture of relief and elation. I finally experienced not only my first, but my second, third, fourth, and yes, fifth orgasm. And it was all due to my neighbor, Thomas, who somehow knew I would come while he used the leather’s edge.

  Part Three

  Dear Dark Tales,

  My life was boring! I worked, ate lunch at the same restaurant every day, went home to my little apartment, heated up a microwave dinner, watched reruns on TV, took a shower, woke up the next morning, and did the same thing all over again. My long-term relationship consisted of none other than my hand. Whenever I felt the need to get off, I let my fingers do the walking. I suppose if I were honest with myself, I wanted more. I wanted to understand what it was like to explode in ecstasy with a man and not my hand. I wanted to be exciting, adventurous, you know, I am woman hear me roar. Instead, I settled for safe, secure, and dull, not only in my personal life, but in my work life, too.

  So how does this fit into the dark, forbidden world you write about? Everything changed, and it all started with a visit to a new client. He had major computer issues in his club. His BDSM club, and I, being a computer geek, IT gal, and programmer, went to see what I could do for him. In the end, he did something for me.

  Cordially ,

  Marissa Sanders

  Safe Word

  I sat inside my little six-by-six cubicle at work, flicking the head on my Princess Leia, Star Wars bobblehead. Being a sci-fi geek, Star Wars collectables litter my desk. I had a veritable wonderland of toys and quite the motion symphony going on after I added Chewbacca’s and Luke’s heads a bobbing. I know that as the “Go-to-gal” for the Tech Squad here at Computer World, I should be applying my time more
productively, but it was Friday and getting close to five o’clock.

  I was looking forward to the Deep Space Nine marathon on TV tonight. I figured I’d splurge, make it a wild and crazy time by stopping at the grocery store before I settled in for the night to pick up some mint chocolate chip ice cream and maybe some microwave popcorn.

  “Marissa, I need you to…” My boss, Jay, stopped speaking and stared at me. Then his hawk-like glare raked over all my bobbing bobbleheads. “How old are you, ten?”

  I shrugged. “Twenty-nine.”

  Jay scrubbed the side of his right temple. “We got a call from that club called Vesuvius. The owner is having a major meltdown with the POS system he bought from us for his bar, and the personal computer in his office is acting up as well. I told him I didn’t believe the two to be related since his POS is on a different network, but I’d send my best person over to check it all out.”

  “So I’m going?”

  “Yep.”

  “But it’s almost five, and I—”

  “No arguments. Go handle it.”

  “All right,” I said. I grabbed my bag from the floor. “Who do I need to talk to?”

  “Nash. And for the sake of my own sanity, no more bobbleheads at work.”

  *****

  When I pulled up the driveway to club, Vesuvius, I wondered if I’d entered into some ancient ruins. It was so well done; you forgot this plot of land was only a few hundred feet from a major highway. Trees, over-the-top landscaping, props, and lighting helped with the allusion. The exterior of the building itself consisted of columns, broken off and scattered about, and the front entrance was a huge stone-looking door. Sitting next to the door was a sign, propped up on a half column.

  CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS

  I parked my Dodge Dart, yanked my bag from the passenger side seat, and headed for the entrance. Someone had to be working. I walked up the path that led from the parking area, past a fountain, and to the massive front door. Overhead, a camera turned to face me. The lens moved as if it was doing some sort of auto-focus.

  “Are you here for the computers?” a raspy female voice asked.

  I looked at the camera. Mounted, cleverly into the fascia of the wall, was a hidden speaker. “Yes. I’m from Computer World. Nash called us.”

  “Go around to the side entrance,” said the voice.

  “Right or left?” I asked.

  “To your right.”

  I made my way around the building, stopping where a side entrance angled out from an alcove. Beyond it was nothing but more landscaping, an industrial A/C unit mounted on a concrete pad, and some trees. I heard a click, then pop. The door opened. I stepped inside.

  It was a corridor. To my left was a door to the men’s room and to my right was the ladies room. I’d be walking forward, down the hall, since I didn’t need to use their facilities. I took a couple of steps and heard something echoing down the passage.

  “Hello,” I called out.

  “I’ll be right with you, kitten,” I heard.

  Where did that muffled man’s voice come from?

  “I’m from Computer World.” I stared at nothing. “I’m here to take a look at your computers.”

  From overhead came a horrible clanking sound. Then reminiscent of something out of a movie came legs, a waist, and then a chest. A man landed, feet first, in front of me. I looked up. He’d come from an open ceiling tile. I stared back at him. Open mouthed.

  “Sorry if I startled you,” he said. “I’ve been having some issues with this renovation, and the fucking air conditioning company won’t come back to fix the duct work problems that they created, so I’m taking the bull by the horns and fixing it myself. I’ve decided the crew I hired to do the work around here are all a bunch of lying bastards. And don’t even get me started on the general contractor. I’d like to extract his testicles with a fork, if he sports a pair, that is.”

  “Uhh… Okay.”

  He chuckled. It was deep, dark, not quite sinister, but something about his laugh made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

  “Nash,” he said, extending out his big hand. “I’m the owner of this establishment. I’m sure you’re not here to listen to me bitch and moan. You’re here for my computers, right?”

  “Yes. I’m from Computer World. I was told you were having a problem with your POS at the bar, and your personal computer.”

  “Kitten, I’ve got problems coming out my ass, but if you could get my POS system and my computer system working, I’d forever be indebted to you.”

  I giggled. I had to. He was so rough around the edges, but honest. “I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Nash.”

  “No. Not Mr. Nash. Just Nash or…” His mouth extending into a killer grin. “If you prefer, Lord Vesuvius.”

  “Lord Vesuvius?”

  “Come, kitten. You’ll soon understand the title.”

  “Title?”

  Nash gave me the once over. His honey-colored glare started at the tip-top of my head, followed down my face, neck, and body then ended on my feet. He tilted his head, twisting the black goatee on his chin to a wicked point before meeting my eyes.

  “My dearest, kitten. You are quite the little librarian.” He stepped around me, circling like a bird of prey. “Let down your hair,” he said.

  “What? No. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m not here to do whatever it is you are doing—”

  “Pull that horrible clip out of your hair, my pet.”

  “My name is Marissa, and I’m—”

  Nash, a.k.a. Master Vesuvius, reached out a removed the clip himself. My dark hair tumbled past my shoulders. “Much better,” he complimented. He traced the tip of his index finger across my cheekbone.

  Electricity snapped across me. This whole thing was crazy. Why was I standing in the hallway of this place, allowing him to touch me?

  Before I could attempt to sort out my thoughts he removed the glasses from my face. “Even better.” He combed his fingers through my hair. “Long black hair, my favorite.” His thumb parted my lips. “Ruby red lips, too. But you are far too pent up.”

  He reached for the button on my white oxford. In less than a moment, the top three buttons were undone. “Come with me,” he said. He took my hand, and I allowed him to guide me down the corridor and into a room. His private office from the looks of it. “You can put your work bag over there.” He pointed to a table across the room then placed my glasses on his desk.

  “I need my bag, to work on your computer,” I said.

  “First things first.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean by, first things first. Do you want me to take a look at your computers or not?”

  “Marissa.” Something about the way he said my name snapped my spine straight, and I gave him my full attention. “Put your bag over there, and then come to me.”

  I have no idea why, but I did as he asked. I placed my bag on the black lacquered table, turned around, and watched him as I walked to where he stood.

  He was wearing a gray t-shirt and faded jeans. His arms were crossed, causing his bicep’s to flex hard. On his right arm, something that resembled a whip wound down his flesh in tattooed ink. He looked at me in a way that made me want to fall to my knees. His gaze was powerful, intense, and the way he stood demanded obedience.

  When he held out his hand, I took it. He walked me around his desk, tapped a button on the floor, and the wall shifted, revealing a passage. He led me through the opening. The door closed behind us. Two walls were adorned in paddles, whips, handcuffs, ropes, chains… The list went on and on. Hanging from the ceiling was a set of swings, strappy and odd looking.

  “From this point on I’m Master Vesuvius. You will refer to me as such,” he said. He reached out and tore the buttons on my shirt from their holes. My lacy bra peeked through the tattered material. “I’m going to make you erupt in multiple orgasms, kitten. Do you want this?”

  Oh my God. Yes, I wanted this. More so than I even realiz
ed until this moment. “Yes, Master Vesuvius.”

  The master yanked the rest of my oxford shirt free from my body, reached into the front pocket of his jeans, pulled out a fancy knife, opened the blade, and cut the middle of my bra. My breasts bounced free. He dropped the knife on the floor. The metal ping as it hit the hard concrete resonated in the room.

  He circled me again, stopping on the third revolution at my back. He unzipped my black skirt then tugged it down my hips. I felt his large palm on my upper back then covering my ass. He swatted. I jumped and let out a yelp. He fisted my panties, and pulled. The feeling of the lace being jerked tight between my lower lips excited me. He tugged again, and ripped the panties from my body.

  The master’s mouth was at my ear. “Your safe word is red. Say it, and it all stops. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  Master Vesuvius led me to the swings. I rid myself of the bra dangling from my arms along the way. I was naked, in black heels. He plucked a rope from his tackle, and more gently that I would have imagined, tied my arms behind my back. I no longer had use of them.

  He lifted me up into the swing, tied off my thighs, and suspended me in a bound, ass-up position, hanging face down. My dark hair fell around my face, obscuring my view. All I could see was his shoes and the bottom of his legs as he moved around me, in and out of my line of sight.

  What I felt next rocked my body forward, swinging like a pendulum. He flogged my bare butt. He’d swat, sending me forward, and as I swung back, there was the impact of, at first, his bare hand then the sting of a small paddle. Both sizzled sweetly on my flesh and sent a vibration to my clit, stimulating me. The experience was making me wet.

  The master grabbed onto my hips, and stopped my sway. He licked what I imagined had to be a berry, red butt before parting my cheeks. I felt something slick and cool working its way into my tight channel. I moaned when he had inserted the device to its completion. He drove the tool in and out of my ass slowly at first, then as his thrusts became harder, I swung. The momentum of the swing took over and on each pass, he inserted to the hilt what I thought to be a dildo into my ass, fucking me.