Voracious: Erotica for Women

by Violet Blue

  When his eyes were covered, I said, “Get undressed.” He took off his shoes, socks, and shirt, and then awkwardly lay down and pulled off his pants and underwear. He sat up again when he was finished, his face completely serious now. I made him wait while I duct-taped pillowcases to the back windows. The windows are tinted, and nearly impossible to see into at night—but I didn’t want to risk it.

  I pulled him forward onto his knees and had him kneel over the folded car seat. I buckled leather wrist cuffs around both his wrists and snapped them onto the headrest. I sat back on my heels to look at him. In the shadows his body was lean and muscular. He was smooth and beautiful, as lovely as he’d been when we met nearly ten years ago. He wasn’t hard, though, and he looked cold. Reflexively, I reached for the blanket I had brought, meaning to cover him, but I stopped myself. For the first time since we’d been together, I deliberately ignored his needs—as he had done mine.

  It was a trivial act, by most measures. But with that choice, something larger shifted inside me, and the scene became more than a simple tit for tat.

  For almost a decade the underpinning of our relationship had been his dominance and my submission, both in bed and, to some degree, out of it. I dressed as he directed. I wore my hair long because he preferred it. If he woke up horny in the middle of the night, he would simply yank down my underwear, smear me with lube, and fuck me—often before I even woke up. In all ways, I belonged to him, I deferred to him. But in that moment in the minivan that sense of submission just…slipped off me. I did not belong to him. I was a free agent. A pissed-off free agent.

  I went back to the floor bin and retrieved a harness and a small black dildo. I took off my skirt and underwear and strapped on the harness, positioning the dildo so that the base pressed against the bottom of my pubic bone. I grabbed a small bottle of lube. Kneeling behind Keith, I spread his ass wide open. I dripped lube down his crack and slowly pushed a slippery finger inside him. Though it wasn’t the first time I’d fingered him there, it had been a while—he inhaled sharply and tensed up. I slid another finger in and began massaging his prostate. He arched his back and pressed back against my hand. I reached around with my other hand to his cock. He was rigid now, pulsing in my hand.

  I stroked his dick while pressing my fingers deeper into his ass. His breathing became raspy. Slowly I withdrew my fingers—he grunted when the tips came out—and I pressed the tip of the dildo against his hole. I’d never done this to him before. He felt the silicone cock and I could see his ass cheeks clamp tight for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and relaxed them.

  “Now I’m going to fuck you,” I said, and I pressed my hips forward, easing the dildo inside. He didn’t resist. I gripped his hips with both hands and began to fuck him. The base of the dildo pressed against my labia, and I could feel it in my clit. I was suddenly on fire with sexual desire. I fucked him hard but not too fast, careful not to rock the minivan. I ground my pelvis against his ass, feeling the dildo rub against me. He was moaning as he pressed backward with every stroke. In a few minutes I recognized his pre-coming sounds, and I immediately pulled out.

  I unclipped his cuffs and pulled him up to a kneeling position. I took off his blindfold. Even in the soft moonlight he was squinting, his eyes already accustomed to full black. His erection jutted out from him, nearly vertical. He had a beautiful cock—long, slim, smooth, like cut marble. Perhaps I would have loved him as much if he were not so perfect, but perhaps not.

  I lay down on my back, my knees bent and apart. He started to reach for me, but I said sharply, “Don’t touch me! Just stay there.” I spread myself open before him with one hand, and slid my fingers over my clit with the other. He watched me silently. I closed my eyes and rubbed hard and fast. I came quickly and then sat up. I pulled on my skirt. He looked surprised, and whispered, “Can I fuck you?”

  “No. Jack yourself off,” I said. So he did. He jacked himself off, kneeling in front of me in the back of the minivan. I grew hot again, watching his rhythmic strokes and seeing the semen bead up on the engorged tip of his penis. He ejaculated in a gush, splattering the blanket and the floor of the van and one of the rear cupholders.

  He dressed himself slowly as I watched, and kissed my cheek when he finished. “I love you, Julia,” he said, looking at me with an expression that I’d never seen before. “I love you, too,” I answered.

  I wasn’t angry any more. I wasn’t sure what I was instead. We drove home silently, neither of us wanting to go to the restaurant. We cleaned up the van before going inside the house, and remembered to smile and be pleasant to the babysitter. We were briefly stumped when she asked how our dinner was, but Keith finally came through with “Um, it was good. I think. Yes.” We ate leftover pizza in silence after she’d gone.

  The next day we resumed our family life, and in most ways our lives were unchanged. But I thought of Keith constantly. I thought of him as I drove the kids to soccer games in the minivan. I thought of him when I was working, and found myself inconveniently wet and aroused, imagining him naked in the moonlight. As for Keith, he treated me more gently, and I would often catch him watching me as I bathed the kids or brushed my hair. Something had changed between us that night, and it didn’t change back.

  Marriage is a living, breathing thing. On unexpected points, it pivots. And then it becomes something entirely new.

  FLUID HUMILIATION

  Kayla Kuffs

  “Buy an enema bulb,” Jeff said.

  I was somewhat taken aback. It wasn’t really my kink—bathroom sports were not my idea of a good time. Though admittedly I had not had the experience, I just couldn’t wrap my mind around going through it with any kind of dignity. I always considered it a limit. Now he wanted me to buy an enema bulb?

  I sighed and tried to back my way out of it, but he was firm in his command.

  “This is something that pleases me, baby, and you want to please me, don’t you?”

  He knew what buttons to push to get me to do pretty much anything, so of course I agreed to purchase the item. Just purchasing it was going to be traumatic.

  In the pharmacy, I didn’t really know what I was looking for. An enema bulb—I shuddered at the thought. I wandered the aisles, trying to look nonchalant and inconspicuous. I casually stood before the personal hygiene section, my eyes running up and down the shelves trying to find the bulbs without letting other customers know what I was looking for. I was extremely embarrassed as I grabbed the enema bulb off the hook. Please, God, don’t let anybody I know walk by me. I hustled myself to the cashier and almost threw the money at her. She was chatting away with another employee, not really paying much attention to me. Normally I’d be offended by that kind of behavior, but I was grateful for it this time. My purchase in the bag, I raced out of the store.

  Later that week, my phone rang. It was Jeff. We talked a bit, and I told him I had purchased the bulb. Once he knew I had it, he had to make sure I got some use from it. Keeping me on the line, he had me fill it with tepid water, then fill myself, only two bulbs’ worth to start, fourteen ounces. He instructed me to insert my butt plug and proceeded to chat away with me on the phone.

  It was embarrassing and uncomfortable, but the feeling of being full was very erotic to me, and I will admit the humiliation factor wasn’t hurting matters too much. Jeff chatted about benign things while I squirmed on the bed, worried that I was going to leak my water and make a mess. I could hear the amusement in his voice when he’d ask me a question, and it would take all my control to be able to answer. I was in subspace, feeling fragile and vulnerable, trying desperately to carry on my end of the conversation regardless of the distraction I was experiencing. I’d had the forethought to bring a towel with me and hoped it would be enough if I had an accident. I was glad he was not in the room with me, but at the same time I wished that he were. Comfort me, please. I’m way out of my element here.

  After about ten minutes, he asked me how I was feeling and had me describe the physical a
nd emotional trauma I was experiencing for him. I had cramping, pressure, a feeling of being out of control of my body. I was fighting to hold everything in. I begged him to let me release it. I was laughing at my predicament but at the same time I was on the edge of panic. He was enjoying this way too much I thought.

  Finally Jeff allowed me to leave the phone to relieve myself. What a relief when I expelled the water. I came back to the phone and he praised me for doing this incredibly personal act for him. He crooned to me, whispering his encouragement in my ear, guiding me to touch myself, to bring myself to climax for him. I was putty in his hands.

  I thought about our experiment for a few days, trying to decide how I felt about it. The humiliation made me hot, but I wasn’t sure about the physical sensations of the enema. I had so much social programming regarding this issue. It was dirty and private and dark and personal. But I know I pleased him by doing his bidding, and that, in the end, was my goal.

  For a couple of weeks, we worked on my tolerance for the idea of enemas and the feelings that came with them, continuing to experiment on the phone so I could get used to the feelings alone and learn to accept them. I was just beginning to get comfortable with the whole idea when Jeff called me with a new set of instructions. I was to fill myself with two bulbs of water and expel them after ten minutes. Then I was to repeat the exercise again in two hours. Then, at 6:00 P.M., I was to fill myself with three bulbs of water, insert my butt plug, and wait for him. Wait for him? Oh no, could I do this? I spent the rest of the week worrying about it.

  The day arrived. I took care of my regular routine, showering, shaving, perfuming, getting myself all fluffed and pretty for Jeff. Then I began his special instructions. Two bulbs of water were easy for me by this time, and I did as I was told without a hitch. Filling myself with three bulbs was worrisome—it was the most water I had ever held—but I expected I would be able to manage it and tried not to worry about it too much.

  He was late, that night. I was sitting at the top of the stairs waiting for him to come, wiggling and squirming to try to retain the water and ease the mild cramping I was feeling. It was the tremendous pressure building inside me that set the panic off. I went into the bathroom so that if I couldn’t manage to maintain control at least I’d be near the toilet. He called to tell me he was on his way. I begged him to allow me to release my water. I was almost in tears as I told him where I was sitting and how bad the pressure was. He allowed me to relieve myself.

  Over the next couple of weeks, he had me fill myself with three bulbs of water and then wait for him to arrive at the house. The first time, I was permitted to expel as soon as he arrived. The next time, I had to sit at his feet for a while as he watched my discomfort and embarrassment before I was allowed to relieve myself. He enjoyed seeing me fight for control of my body. He enjoyed the fact that I did not beg or ask for relief but bore my discomfort until he granted me permission to use the washroom. He never came with me. He let me go on my own and watched me as I awkwardly dashed down the hall to my salvation.

  I found, over time, that I wanted more than what I was getting from this experience. I wanted him to be the one to fill me. I wanted to be completely humiliated in front of him. I wanted to be at his mercy, his control. I wanted to be his entertainment. I wish I had remembered the saying “Be careful what you wish for.”

  Jeff came to the house on a Saturday afternoon. I was dressed in a black miniskirt, black stockings, black garters, black heels, and a black-and-white tank top. He loves miniskirts and was quite pleased with me. We chatted for a bit, then he wanted to poke around on my computer. He sat at the desk and I sat on the floor beside him. It was then he sent me off for my toys.

  I retrieved my toy box and set it on the floor beside him. He reached in and took out my tweezer clamps and told me to remove my top. I did, and he attached the clamps to my tiny pink nipples, tightly, painfully. He then had me turn my back to him. He lifted my skirt and began to inspect my ass, slipping a finger into my moist pussy, pulling on my labia, poking and prodding my sex. Then he said, “Go fill your bulb, slave.” My heart skipped a beat. What I had been hoping for was about to happen.

  I returned with the bulb full of very warm water and handed it to him. He had me turn around again and bend over. I was standing about three feet from him, bent over at the waist, my hands gripping my ankles. I felt his hands on my ass and the nozzle of the bulb being inserted. My heart raced as I felt the water flow into me. I was a little embarrassed, but not too much. I was actually quite pleased that he thought I was ready to expose myself to him in this fashion. He handed me the bulb and sent me back twice for more, which had me at about twenty-one ounces of fluid. That was my comfort level. But my comfort level was about to be surpassed.

  I was in front of him, bent over, ass exposed, freshly injected with the third bulb. I heard him rummage in the toy box, and then I felt him take hold of my pussy lips. I felt spots of pain between my legs as he attached my alligator clamps, one to each lip. They hurt like the clamps on my nipples. I heard the buzz of a vibrator and felt the light touch of the tip as it traced around my pussy. It felt nice and I held my position as he toyed with me.

  The real trouble started when he sent me for a fourth bulb of water. I tried to keep my legs apart as I walked to the bathroom, but he told me to walk properly. My pussy hurt as my thighs brushed the chain hanging from the clamps; I felt full and awkward. I returned and handed him the bulb. Again he filled me. Twenty-eight ounces now, and I could really feel the fullness. He had me stay put, bent over with my ass and muff displayed for him. After a few minutes he took the vibrator to me again. Teasing and tickling my clit, arousing me to the point that I was straining to bring my backside nearer to him. He told me to get another bulb.

  Terror rose in my heart. I knew I was over my limit. I had never held four bulbs of liquid inside me before, and certainly not five. Walking was becoming very difficult, especially since Jeff didn’t want to see any hint of the discomfort I was in. My gait was ridiculously awkward, given the water he had flushed inside me, my heels, and the clamps. I tried to be ladylike as I walked down the hall but I’m sure I looked as if I had just got off a three-day camel ride.

  I looked at the dreaded bathroom tap and with a huge sigh of resignation, turned the water on for the fifth time, and adjusted the temperature. Carefully I filled the bulb and waddled back to where Jeff sat, watching me, so evilly entertained by my discomfort. I handed the bulb to him again and waited for my instructions. He directed me back to the same position, bent over, ass exposed. Only this time I was trembling. I can’t tell you whether it was fear or anticipation but I was so completely out of control. I was far beyond the limits I had been secure with only weeks ago. I felt the nozzle enter my anus.

  He talked to me as he squeezed the last bulb inside me. He was being so kind and gentle and loving, telling me how happy he was I accepted his liquid. How proud I made him by trusting him this much. His voice was velvet in my ears; smooth, calm, and soft. How could I ever refuse him anything? I whimpered as he removed the nozzle, terrified I’d spring a leak and make a mess. I focused on his voice, hypnotized by the rhythm in his tone. My body trembled.

  I stayed bent over, and he caressed my ass, moving his hands in circles as he worked to ease my fear. His hands slid down between my thighs, and he finally removed the clamps on my pussy. I cried out as he released each one and gasped as he quickly thrust two fingers deep inside me. I was flooded with fear and pleasure and pain. My mind was spinning as each emotion and sensation bombarded me. I was shaking uncontrollably when he removed his fingers and told me to stand. Confused, fearful, I was desperate for him to take care of me. Unable to think or act on my own behalf, I was completely at his mercy, mentally and physically.

  I turned to face him, and he slid his fingers into my mouth, one at a time, so that I could clean each one. He liked me to taste my own dew, and he liked to kiss it from my lips, which was exactly his next move.

  T
he warmth of his lips made me want to melt, and I had to hang on to him to keep upright. Our tongues danced together, his teeth occasionally biting down on my tongue binding my face to his. This made me giggle, which would pull on my tongue, so he’d bite down harder.

  He liked to tease me like this. How many times had he deliberately put me in a spot where there was nothing for me to do but accept the pain he liked to sneak to me? It was to keep my attention, he would say, when I accused him of sabotaging me. And here I thought he always had my attention.

  My tongue still between his teeth, he reached down to the clamps on my nipples and removed each one. I was close to tears as the pain burned bright on my tender flesh. He released my tongue and held me tight, lightly massaging the blood back to my nipples. I held my breath and buried my head in his shoulder until the pain subsided enough to be able to look up into his deep brown eyes.

  His smile lit up his face, his eyes twinkled; he whispered that soon I’d be able to release my burden. With that, he reached behind him and brought out a blindfold. I dropped my hands to my sides and turned away to make it easier for him to tie it. Slowly and deliberately, he turned me around a couple times so that I lost my orientation to the room. I was now in his full control. He took my hand and led me away.

  I didn’t know where he was leading me. I was so confused by the physical stimulation of the evening that I couldn’t maintain a concrete idea of where I was in my own home. Carefully, so as not to trip in my heels, I allowed myself to be led. It was only when I was turned and felt the linoleum under my feet that I knew where he was taking me.

  Jeff backed me up to the toilet and helped me sit. My heart pounded in my ears as I realized it was really about to happen. He was going to make me expel all the water he’d been injecting into my rectum. I was mortified and excited all at the same time. I could feel my cunt lubricate as my juices flowed freely. I waited for the command to release.