The Victoria Blisse Collection

by Victoria Blisse

  “Whatever, you’ve still been a naughty boy and what do naughty boys get?”

  Jamie smiles and winks, then bows his head.

  “Punished.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Punished, Mistress,” he repeats, his cheeks flushing, his cock coming to life in his pants.

  “That’s better.” She grins wickedly, her bright green eyes shining mischievously. “Now stand up, drop your trousers and bend over the sofa arm.”

  Jamie does as he’s instructed, his hard cock digging in to the soft material and begging for release.

  Carrie giggles and gently slaps his buttocks.

  “Where are your manners?” She slaps him harder.

  “Sorry, Mistress, Thank you, Mistress,” he replies.

  “That’s better.” She smacks him again, harder still seeing his flesh wobble and pinken.

  “Thank you, Mistress,” he hisses, the pain warming his backside and stiffening his dick even further. Carrie spanks him a couple more times, enjoying the buzz of power flowing through her veins.

  “Stand up,” she commands, shrugging out of her skirt and t-shirt. Jamie does as he is told and Carrie pushes him down onto the sofa then rips off her kickers.

  “I need to fuck you,” she exclaims standing over him, one leg on either side of his legs. She lowers herself to her knees, her wet cunt hovering over his straining cock. She looks into his eyes as she sinks down onto him. He slips in smoothly like a sword into its sheath.

  “Oh, yeah,” she gasps, her eyes closing for a second, then fluttering open. She is determined to watch him, to observe him as he comes. She sets up a rhythm rocking her pelvis to and fro as he holds tightly to her hips. Not a word is spoken as they fuck. Their eyes focus on one another, pupils expanded with lust, the depths filled with love.

  They feel connected, completing a circuit which allows their bodies to conduct the sexual electricity with great efficiency. With each bounce Carrie’s clit presses against his pelvis and sends shivers of pleasure throughout her being. With each grasp and contraction of her cunt his cock throbs and pulses, his mind and body overtaken with desire. They moan and hiss, their breath escaping and mingling as they rush on, coming closer and closer to climax.

  “I love you,” he roars as he explodes,

  “I love you,” she echoes as she shudders and shakes, collapsing onto his chest. Jamie wraps his arms around her, holding her close and cherishing this moment of total contentment.

  She closes her eyes and listens to his heartbeat, safe at last.

  Scentsual

  As soon as I stepped off the train I was soothed by the scents, even in the middle of town. I could smell the sea, a light, crisp edge to the cool breeze and the fish and chip shops left a vinegar tang to the air. The smell took me back to my childhood, when we used to come here for our holidays. We spent a week in Scarborough each year. My parents loved the sights and sounds. I fell in love with the smells. The sweetness of donuts, the sharp salt on the breeze, the comforting odour of the damp sand beneath my feet. I regularly visit my childhood sanctuary to rest in the comforting scents and take in the familiar sights. It is my escape when work just becomes too much for me.

  Despite being late September, the town was busy. I walked down the main hill, enjoying the thrill of being on holiday. We all get it, from being a kid to being a pensioner; that surge of joy and energy as we realise this is it, now we can do what the hell we want. We’re on holiday.

  I dropped off my bag at the small bed and breakfast I always used. I craved the scents of my childhood, but as I aged I also craved the softness of a real bed and the warmth of brick. I was well past the age of caravanning even ten years ago, and now I appreciate the comforts of life all the more. I do have my attachments to The Empire, though. The first time I stayed here, I fell in love with the clean smell of polish and old pot-pourri. The first morning I woke in my room at The Empire to the smell of bacon, sausage and egg clinched it for me. It pervaded every floor of the tall building in the mornings. It smelled like a home.

  I met a guy, that first time I roomed at the Empire. Tom, he was called. He was a young lad, around eighteen, and he was reluctantly on holiday with his parents. We met up in the lounge one morning, where I was seduced by his sweet, soapy smell and his candour.

  I took his virginity, in the middle of the day as he faked a headache to avoid the monotony of a wet afternoon looking at museums. He was willing and eager and oh so pliant. When I think of him, a shot of desire runs straight to my pussy and I get the urge to stop and masturbate wherever I am. His innocence was delicious and the scent of his new, barely used cock was a delight.

  * * * *

  I was deep in thought as I walked down the hill to the sea front. I was trying to remember every detail of that encounter. I found, to my horror, that I couldn’t remember it all. Then I realised it had happened almost ten years ago. I felt old, I felt fat and I felt lonely.

  Sometimes, when you stop for a break the things you work so hard to avoid pile in on you unannounced. That is what happened to me. I was completely unaware of the bustle around me, the smell of the chip shop and the increased tang of salt in the air. I just sat on a bench and let the negative emotions run over me.

  I was thirty-six and still alone. I had never had a long term, serious relationship. People told me I was scared of commitment but I was not, no. I was just easily bored and seeking out a very unique individual indeed. I’m dominant. Not just in my sex life but at work and home, too. It takes a very submissive character to complement me. It is why I have risen to the top of my chosen career so quickly. I hate being subordinate to anyone.

  That I was subordinate to my emotions and desires annoyed me. I wanted to be in a relationship, I wanted to have someone to go home to every night. Not that Suki, my cat, wasn’t warm and cuddly. But come on, I didn’t want to be a lonely cat lady all my life.

  Not only was I dominant, I was curvy. When you see photos of dominant women in the media they are thin, twig-like figures more often than not. Not me. I have big hips and large boobs, I always have. The other parts started to fill out when I reached my twenties and although I still had a waist, you’d be pushed to call what I had an hour-glass figure.

  I knew I was still attractive; tall and toned enough to pull in the one-night stand guys. I knew how to dress to show off the good curves and my make up accentuated my large green eyes and plump lips. I was attractive, I knew it, but relationships still eluded me.

  I was lost in my cloud of despondency when I caught a hint of excitement on the breeze. It was the mellow tang of leather that first caught my attention, followed by a cinnamon and citrus combination that blew my mind. I looked up from my sullenness and smiled.

  He was a young man. I guessed he was at least 10 years my junior. He was freshly shaven and his hair was just long enough to fall on his face as he looked down at the ground between his black-booted feet. His skin was milky and soft; the contrast between his white cheek and worn, brown leather jacket was like art.

  I wanted to reach out and touch him. I wanted to bury my face in the crook of his neck, to suck in that sensual, masculine smell. I was completely taken over by him. I knew my window of opportunity was small. He may have stood up and walked away at any moment, so I looked for some opening. His hand was on the bench next to me, clenched around the edge as if he were holding on for dear life. I reached out and put my hand over his.

  “Oh, I am sorry.” I smiled as he turned his head towards me. “I didn’t see your hand there.” I squeezed it gently before pulling mine away.

  “Oh, don’t worry.” He smiled back at me, nervously. His eyes were gloriously deep brown, matching his coat and his hair. I was in lust, and I could see a glimmer of something in the way he was looking at me, too.

  “So, are you waiting for your wife to come out of the shops?” I asked, wanting to clear up the questio
n of his attachment right away.

  “No.” he replied, his eyebrow rising in confusion. Every slight move wafted more of that enchanting leather scent my way.

  “Oh, girlfriend then. Sorry.”

  “No, I’m single. Are you waiting for your…” I could see him struggling for the right word. “Mate?”

  “Well, yes. But I don’t actually currently have one. I’m on the lookout for someone special.”

  “Oh,” he gulped. He had unconsciously turned his body to face me. With each passing moment he leant closer.

  “Yes,” I replied, in little more than a whisper. “I need a man desperately.”

  I licked my lips and arched my brows, cupping his hand with mine again. This was the moment, the make or break moment, and I hoped with all my heart that he would succumb to my advances.

  “Well, I am a man.” He cleared his throat and shifted on the uncomfortable slats. I couldn’t see, but I guessed his cock had just jumped in his casual jeans. “Will I do?”

  “I think you might.” I traced my finger lazily across the taut skin of his hand and looked down between our bodies. “But I have to warn you that my needs are physical. I need a man who is willing to please me.” I paused and looked up, fixing his gaze to mine. “Sexually.”

  To give him his due, his gaze held mine for two or three long seconds before he was forced to look down. I was impressed.

  “So, Can you help me?”

  He looked up again and nodded.

  “Oh, good. Are you doing anything right now?”

  “No,” he replied, “Just, you know, wandering.”

  “Want to wander down to the front with me?”

  Partly, I wanted to stretch out the anticipation. I also wanted to test him a little more. He seemed fairly submissive, but fairly would not be good enough for me in this mood. Mostly though, I had promised myself an ice cream from Jaconelli’s and I was going to get it.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “I’ll buy you an ice-cream.” I smiled seductively and grasped his hand in mine.

  “A Jaconelli’s?”

  “Of course,” I smiled. “What else?”

  What else, indeed. There are many ice-cream sellers along the sea front, but only one that sells the creamiest ice cream that smells like wicked cream and saintly vanilla. You can only buy a Lemon top at Jaconelli’s and I love the sour contrast of sorbet against the comforting blanket of cold sweetness.

  He laughed and stood beside me. My heart thumped in my chest, so hard it was painful. Normally, I did not care if I got a yay or a nay from a man. I could go on to another and pick him up. But this guy was different, I felt more than want; I needed him to come with me.

  “So, are you here on holiday?” I asked as we strolled past the novelty shops towards the salty wash of the sea.

  “Yeah, well, a day trip really. Needed to blow the cobwebs out of my brain, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know. Same for me, but I’m here ‘til Monday.”

  “Do you mind if I ask your name?” He asked it with a nervous smile.

  “I’m Kelly, but you can call me Mistress.”

  He blushed. His pale cheeks looked good heated up. I knew his butt cheeks would look even better in my favourite shade of just-spanked pink.

  “Okay, Mistress.” His reply was nervous, but the smile stuck to his lips. “My name is Rob.”

  “Okay, Rob. I might forget that, so is it okay if I just call you ‘boy’?”

  “Sure.” His cheeks were beautiful when he blushed.

  “Okay, boy. Let’s go and get that ice cream.”

  * * * *

  Rob turned out to be good company. We picked up two ice creams from Jaconelli’s, with a generous serving of lemon sorbet on the side, then found a bench. We watched the world go by. It was a warm, autumnal day and there were day-trippers out in force. Many of them sat on the beach in their jumpers, hats and scarves. Little kids screamed and laughed, as if it were a hot mid-summer’s day. You could smell the cold on the breeze; the tang of frost still clung to the salt-laden air. It was refreshing and instantly calming. I felt at home in a way that I only ever experienced in Scarborough, the place of my childhood joys.

  “Nothing like this, is there?” Rob sighed, his tongue lapping leisurely at his cold treat.

  “Nothing,” I replied. “I’ve been all over the world for work and for holidays, but I don’t feel I’ve actually had a holiday until I’ve been here, you know?”

  “I know,” he nodded, “We came here as kids on holiday, and I’ve never loved another place the same since.”

  I shivered then. Not from the cold, in fact, but from the shock of recognition for his words. Like a gentleman, he pulled me closer and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

  I rested my head in the crook of his neck and feasted on his scent. The musk of leather and the tang of salt, citrus and cinnamon surrounded me. I breathed it in eagerly and tried to memorise its charm. It was strange how peaceful I felt as I rested there in the warmth of a strangers embrace. There was a strong under-current of lust beneath the calm of the moment, but at the time I would have happily sat in that position with him for hours more. Then I would have to ravage him and make him mine.

  I listened to him crunch the last remains of his cone, then glanced up, eager to move on. As I looked up, he looked down. Like magnets being pulled together, our lips met. It was soft at first, as we both registered what was happening. His strong lips were so tender and hesitant. Before they could pull away to apologise, I pressed mine harder against them.

  He let me take control easily; his lips gave way eagerly to mine. They parted and I darted my probing tongue between them. His tongue met mine hesitantly, and allowed my mouth to explore and conquer his. I was giddy with lust and power. If it hadn’t have been so chill I would have happily pushed on and stripped him right there. I wanted to conquer him fully.

  “Mm, would you like to accompany me back to my hotel room now?” I smiled as our lips parted.

  “Yes, please, Mistress.” It was little more than a whisper. Once more, I took his hand and led him purposefully away from the sea. We walked in silence for a long while, our hands clasped together tightly. That touch kept my lust at a rolling boil. I was aware of my sticky thighs as we climbed back up the hill and the way my swollen pubis chaffed against my knickers. It was exquisite. I enjoyed every tortuous step. I have always enjoyed the anticipation before the sex act itself. There is a special thrill in knowing what is to come, but not being exactly sure what that might be.

  I pulled Rob down a side street. He looked confused. I kissed the confusion from his lips. I adored the way he gave in to my advances, the way he would instantly forget everything else and throw his whole self into pleasing me. I submerged myself in his kiss. I lost myself in the undulation of his lips on mine and drank in the intimacy of such a moment in the middle of a public space. I heard someone tut as they walked by and it only made me smile. We were not doing anything lewd, I was just beginning to enjoy the intimacy between us. I find it best not to rush such things; a slow start leads to the best sex, in my opinion.

  I pulled away when I began to forget where we were. Right at the moment when the heat got to a level where I wanted to strip naked right in the street and take him on the cobbled pavement. Breath shuddered from our lips as our eyes met and our cheeks flushed. I took his hand and led him further down the street to a sleek, inoffensive looking shop.

  “I need to pick up a few things.” I said and he inclined his head subserviently. I licked my lips; I had not experienced that level of submission for a long time and I was looking forward to using a willing body for my pleasure.

  We walked into the small, poky shop. It did not have much room, but what space there was seemed well used. The shop was packed with sexual knick-knacks. I was assaulted by smells of plastic, leather, latex and sex. It wa
s delightfully arousing.

  “I’m looking for a good, quality flogger,” I told the man behind the counter as he enquired if we needed any help. “A paddle, too, actually...and some kind of binding, soft but strong.” The tall, sleek man moved silently from one end of the counter to the other and put down a striking leather whip with many fronds, a rounded, stout paddle and a bundle of red satin ties.

  “Anything else, madam?” The shop assistant asked. I pondered for a moment as I looked at Rob, who was blushing a violent shade of red as he looked down at his shoes. I could see his obvious erection pressing to be released from inside his jeans and knew he was turned on, a lot.

  “Oh, yes, a butt plug,” I continued, “just a medium-sized one, for now.” I squeezed Rob’s hand and felt his eager fingers squeeze back.

  The man brought me three different plugs from which to choose. “That’ll be it.” I said, choosing the middle of the three. Not big, but intimidating for a man who might never have had anything in his arse before. His eyes widened significantly when he saw the thickness of the plain black base. I could not wait to use my new toy to stretch him open for me. I had my strap-on in my luggage. I never went anywhere without it.

  I paid the gentleman, took the plain white carrier bag and passed it to Rob. He could feel the weight of them in his hand as we walked back to my room, that constant reminder of what I had in store for him.

  My heart thudded quickly for the duration of the walk back to The Empire. I was excited, yes, but I was also anxious. This was the point where Rob could decide to back out. I would now find out if his submissive behaviour was in fact natural and not just an act to get me to sleep with him. I had experienced that more often than I cared to remember. I would confess my preference for dominance to a man in a club and he would play to that, only to baulk before I even got to lay a spank upon his arse.

  I was glad to find Rob kept step with me all the way to the front of my hotel. He stood behind me as I fiddled with the key and continued behind me as we climbed the stairs to the top floor and my bedroom, with the stunning view out towards the castle.