Unsubtle Overtures

We want to know, but we don’t want to know, romanticising the future, but not romantic.

You envisage me as perfect, waking in a tangle of white sheets, draped over my torso, a naked leg naturally mounted over the sheet. We’ve woken in the early hours, staring at each other in the twilight over the soft pillows. You’ll push my hair behind my ears as I trail my eyes over your strong jaw and neck, following the natural contour down to your chest, and looking back at you from under my lashes. The tenderness is just in the moment, an after-effect of satisfaction, of the attraction that slowly dies with time. Neither of us want that or are thinking that, floating on a cloud of endorphin charged bliss, languorously. 

In those moments it could all end and every single thing you’d weep over in this world wouldn’t mean one iota with you inside me. That’s all we’re thinking about, the cries of our high, echoing off these walls.

For now though, we’ll kiss, meeting halfway and pulling back in an uncertain tease, sentiments whispering in our minds. 

Do you want me? How much do you want me? Do you want me as much as I want you? Are you wet for me? Are you hard for me?

We’re thinking about the time before, the hardness, the tightness, the feeling of flesh against flesh and how is that we seem to fit so perfectly. We want to be touched without having to explain, we want to choke on our both our own pleasure and surprise. I want you to be both tender and hard and you’ll want me to yield, but not without a fight.

You want to catch me in that moment where I’d pledge eternal worship, if only I could form the words, and I want to catch you in the moment when you acknowledge you’re ruined for everyone else.

This was posted 21 Mar 12 at 12.21pm.

I shook his hand at the bar, his long fingers wrapped around mine evenly. Neither too strong, nor limp. The handshake of second nature, performed uncountable times; polite, yet not too friendly.

He gave me a small smile and I caught the whiff of tobacco as he breathed out slowly. I had this feeling it would be him, a nagging twinge both simultaneously certain and uncertain. We made small talk as I followed his eyes around the crowded room, observing the people and making acknowledgements as people tried to get his attention. I felt him pause before he actually did, his eyes trailing over the brunette standing almost in the center of the room. I suppressed a smile. 

My wife.

She wasn’t the tallest woman, about average height; but it didn’t hurt that she loved stilettos. She wasn’t the most conventionally beautiful, but she enjoyed using her eyelids as a canvas, darkened and smudged with charcoal, mysterious, and often unreadable. The way she moved was dictated by her moods. Sometimes she’d slip through the crowds, feline-like and undetectable, and other times her aura permeated the air, her eyes dark and hard, turning heads with each step that she took.

She was looking for me as her eyes searched the room. When she found me, a small smile lifted her lips and she maneuvered through the crowd. I watched as she walked towards me, her eyes moving over the man next to me. She never paused, stopped or gave anything away, but something had shifted and I felt her reservation as she came and stood next to me.

He hadn’t moved his eyes from her, the realisation dawning on his face when he saw where she stood. I introduced them, and she shook his hand, smiling politely. I felt his attempt to withdraw. She wasn’t available, and the gentleman-like thing to do was to cast away his interest.

After all these years, I still couldn’t tell. I had a hint on the inner workings of this majestic creature, but could I read her exact thoughts? It seemed she would always be some kind of enigma. She never gave anything away, something that both irritated and captured me. For once though, it seemed that I was onto something. Maybe I wasn’t sure, but there was something.

It felt as though her aura had bloomed, the invisible tendrils weaving their way over me and wrapping themselves around the man next to me. I sensed his resistance, his attempt to fight his attraction, as he tried to look away, to turn and avert his attention, but somehow he kept finding his gaze wander back to her as she leaned over the bar and ordered a drink.

I asked him if he’d like anything, but he shook his head and thanked me, rolling his glass in his hand. He was on the lemon squash, dry as a scorching Summer’s day. I whispered to my wife, telling her that he looked familiar. She gave me a small smile and told me I was standing next to a man who quite famous to some people. She recognised my look of wonder and told me that he wouldn’t have popped up on my radar as it wasn’t my area of interest, and told me that she knew who he was because she read and listened to enough random things on the internet. She then smiled so genuinely at me, I thought I must have been losing my mind. I looked over her tight ponytail, the sides glistening with the hairspray that kept it in place; her small non-descipt earrings and the way her neck elongated when she stood tall and didn’t slouch the same way she did at home.

Still there was that nagging feeling.

I smiled and excused myself to the bathroom, leaving them there together at the bar. Even with her stilettos on, he still towered over her, his tall wiry frame a stark contrast to the both of us. After I came out of the toilet and instead of returning immediately, I stood and watched from across the room. He talked as she listened intently, although standing there with her arms crossed. Several times, women and men interrupted them, trying to talk to him. The women sized her up, and the men barely paid her heed, no doubt in awe of seeing him. The conversations never lasted long and when they left, he turned straight back to her and continued. She finally turned and leant over the bar to order another drink, as she did, it seemed as if time had slowed. Her ponytail whipped around as she turned and whatever perfume she was wearing wafted past his nose. His eyes closed as he inhaled her mixture of skin and scent. When finally they opened, they had darkened. Could I blame him? I knew that look. My eyes trailed down the curve of her back and rested on her backside, and I looked back up to see that she had spotted me watching her. She cocked an eyebrow and smiled.

I grinned, making my way back over to them and watched as he tried to shake himself out of it.

The thrill slowly crawled over my skin, and for a moment I felt guilty. It was like watching an insect attempt to escape a spider’s web.

I asked her if she wanted to go. She smiled and quickly drank the rest of her drink.

It was going to be a long shot. Was he interested enough? He wasn’t drinking so I couldn’t even offer him a drink. I told him we were leaving to wind down for the evening. The hotel lobby, somewhere quieter so we could relax.

He wanted to say no. He was ready to decline, but he made the mistake of looking at her as she stood there patiently listening to our exchange. I couldn’t see her eyes clearly as she stood next to me watching him.

He shrugged. Why not? He said to me. A cup of tea would be nice and if he stayed any longer he didn’t know how much more lemon squash he’d be able to stomach. I laughed and patted him on the back. There was too much sugar in that crap anyhow I told him.

We left the bar and headed to the hotel lobby. The piano was playing softly and we ordered a round of drinks. We sat on a pair lounges and I asked him about his home and his travels: what did he like, what did he miss and where else he would choose to live. We compared notes while she sat there silently. The only word she said was thank you when the waiter served us our drinks.

We finally finished the last of our drinks. As he put his cup down I asked him if he’d like to come up to our room. His hand didn’t leave the cup. He looked at me slowly and quietly told me that he wasn’t that way inclined.

I couldn’t help the laughter that gurgled in my throat as I gasped for another breath. I told him I was sorry, but neither was I. Meanwhile, my wife had not moved a muscle.

He said he would settle the bill, but I told him it was on a tab. Nonetheless he insisted without giving an answer and I relented giving him a moment to think about what I was offering. The moment he was out of earshot, she turned to me.

“Are you sure you know what you are doing?”

A automatic grin tugged at the corner of my mouth as I tried to push the cockiness back down. I looked into her dark eyes.

“Yes.” I said evenly.

She didn’t blink. “Really?” She leaned forward and placed her hand on my thigh. “There is no going back if you do this. You can’t go back and undo it. Do you think you can handle this?”

She was just asking me a question. It sounded as though there was a hint of worry in her voice, but I just couldn’t read a thing in her eyes. I felt the irritation rise. She lowered her voice. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Was it what I wanted? To watch her be fucked by another man? I didn’t really know. Somehow I had this feeling that there would be something, anything that would allow me to peer inside her, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. Somehow, magically the veil would slip and I would have some sort of epiphany, but I knew there was no guarantee.

He returned before I could answer. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t leave either, so I took that as his acquiescence and we both stood up and made our way to the elevator.

At this time of the night, bodies were few and we had the elevator to ourselves. He leaned against the elevator wall, legs crossed and watched the both of us. I slowly pushed her forward by the small of her back until she stood in front of him. For several moments nothing happened and I almost resigned to the fact that perhaps nothing would happen, that perhaps I’d made a mistake.

A few moments later his hands were on her, holding her jaw as he tasted her lips. Her head tilted back sharply as he kissed her, his lithe frame leaning over her. I watched her quietly melt under him and noted how surreal it appeared.

I felt… odd. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Part of me felt as though I should be blinded with jealous rage and other part of me was turned on beyond comprehension. I adjusted my pants as he kissed her throat and watched as his hands trailed gingerly down her back and over her backside.

I looked up to find her watching me curiously and I smiled slowly. I saw the dull fire there. It seemed as though she was holding back as she appraised the situation and was possibly checking to see if I was okay.

I was okay. In fact I was more than okay. In my mind I’d already skipped to them fucking, but I shook my head and tried to bring myself back. She nodded her head at me and turned back to him. He hadn’t stopped kissing her, taking his time as his hands roved over her body and his lips swept over her skin.

Even though I knew the feel of her body under my hands, the taste and texture of her skin and the smell of her, I wondered what it was like. What was it like to him? I tried to recall the first time I’d kissed her, the first time I’d cupped her breasts and slipped my fingers between her legs. Some of it was clear and the rest was a collage: her expressions, her sounds, places we’d fucked.

The sharp ding of the elevator sounded and they slowly disentangled themselves. I ushered them out and allowed them to walk ahead of me, imagining for a moment that I was simply a voyeur, that I didn’t know either of them. I smiled as I watched her swaying hips. That ass would command my attention regardless of where I was.

With a click of the keycard, we were inside. There wasn’t really any need for pleasantries and I had no doubt that he had probably seen in the inside of more hotel rooms than I had. I slipped my shoes off, hung my jacket and undid a few buttons at the top of my shirt. I then settled myself on the bed against the bedhead and watched.

The scene unfolding was slow, almost painful. She casually turned the main light off, bathing us in darkness before opening the heavy curtains of the hotel window. Light and shadow filled the open plan room, painting everything in its path.

Draping his jacket over the lounge he sat down in one of the dining chairs, his long legs parted lazily, watching her. She tugged the elastic out of her ponytail, and ran her fingers through it gently untangling parts of it. In an instant, gone was the highly polished coiffure, replaced by the wild volume that framed her face. She turned to him and for several long minutes they simply looked at each other, seemingly locked in either a battle of resistance or a conversation that I did not understand.

Eventually she walked over to him, sliding up her dress along her thighs and straddling his legs. She dipped and rolled her body slowly against his as she lowered her mouth towards his lips, but didn’t touch them. Instead she slid her hand down the front of his shirt, her fingers sliding beneath the waist of his pants. He attempted to grab her wrist in some form of protest, but simply ended up holding it as snake her fingers around his cock. He was mesmerised as looked into her eyes. She was close enough to kiss him, but didn’t move.

I could feel the heat from the both of them from where I sat. I could feel her breasts against my chest and I wasn’t even touching her. I stroked my palm over my nestled cock, watching as she seduced him.

His bravado in the elevator seemed to have slipped away as he tentatively touched her, his hand stroking over the back of her raven hair. He cupped his fingers around the back of her neck but rested it there as she continued to tease him, her hand twisting around the inside of his pant. His breathing was ragged as he stared helplessly into her face.

As quickly as she started, she stopped sliding her hand away and placing both palms either side of him on the chair. The spell she had woven slowly slipped away and he appeared to shake his head and come out of his reverie. He tugged at the hem of her dress and peeled it upwards, revealing her body encased in simple black panties and black bra. She sat upright on his lap, her eyes never leaving his face as she plucked at his buttons, in languorous repetition bringing her face to his, but barely touching. 

When the last button was undone and his shirt fell away, there was a flash of urgency as he unsnapped her bra, tossing it to the carpet. One arm snaked around her waist, pulling her up against him. He put his mouth to her breast and then with his free hand, slipped his proud cock from his pants, pushing her panties aside and gripping her hips, poising her over his tip. I sucked in a sharp silent breath as the ache clenched tightly in my gut. I was sorry I couldn’t see her face as he painstakingly inched inside, the palable tension constricting my chest. I’d lost count of how many times I’d slipped between her hot, wet tightness, how many times she’d felt both foreign, yet familiar and how many times I’d felt both in and out of control.

Their eyes never left each other as I watched the scene repeat over and over, as though it were stuck on a loop, as he eased in and out of her. The heavy molasses of anticipation poured slowly over me, rendering my body almost impotent apart from the hard reminder that painfully strained against my zip.

And there it was, the audible gasp that escaped from his mouth as their bodies moved together. Without warning he lifted her up, cock still deep inside and walked towards me, laying her on the bed. I wanted to stroke my cock, but I was frozen, not wanting to make a motion to attract their attentions, although it was likely they would not have noticed. He pinned her arms above her head with one hand and held her hip with his other, his body a steady undulating rhythm against her her.

Each movement rolled in perfect unison, their laboured breathing suddenly filling the backdrop of silence as I sat by them, my body rigid with arousal, our atmosphere permeated with the scent of fucking. I could feel the build up, and yet I’d stopped touching myself some time ago.

Her hips lifted off the bed, as she pulled away from him. His eyes travelled along the length of her quivering body before sliding back into her in one swift stroke. He looked into her eyes and in that moment, I didn’t exist.

Her head dropped back sharply as she arched her body, her eyes finding mine, the veil slipping as she slowly closed her eyes. 

This was posted 9 Feb 12 at 1.47am.

(Before you continue, it’s important to note that I do not condone violence or sexual violence against women (or men for that fact), although I do occasionally deal with rough/violent or possibly non-con themes. If this makes you uncomfortable, please exercise commonsense and stop or leave. Sexual activities should always be between consenting adults [SSC]. Always be informed or educate yourself and be safe.)

The flyscreen slapped against the weatherboard with a sharp crack, the old rusted spring groaning on the tail end of the echo as I leapt over the flight of three and landed on the grass with a short thud.

I didn’t stop. The fury fired my short steps as I took off running, my jaw clenched with the violent thoughts that fractured against the inner edges of my skull.

A repetitive chant inside my mind; I fucking hated him.

The dim glow of logic denied this, bobbing in the tar pit of my brain. I vehemently ignored it, showering it in a hail of silent expletives as my stride stretched out, and my long skirt ruffled against my legs.
The air stung my face and as I found my rhythm, the fear slowly crept over my body and I fought it with my the dying embers of my anger.

The fog had lowered intermittently over the faded landscape as I pushed on.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. He made me so fucking angry. One month in this isolated house and nothing. We were just two beings that existed in a space of mundane movements. Four weeks of each other’s constant company and he had made sure of that. The throb between my legs made my lower gut ache. I couldn’t even find relief and I didn’t know why. I could have. Anytime. Just gone inside and pleasured myself in a defiant, big “fuck you” move, but something stopped me. It was as though I couldn’t without his approval… or permission.

The anger rose up and poured over my skin again and I panted, suddenly aware that everything was silent except the noise I made as I continued running, passing the dead trees in what appeared to be a barren field.

It was a moment before my mind understood, and the delayed sound of my grunt reached my ears as the wind was knocked from me. I struggled underneath his body as he pinned me to the ground.

“Get off me! Get the fuck off me!” My breathing laboured painfully as I thrashed, trying to get some sort of leverage.

Instinctively I threw my head back, feeling his weight rock as he muttered something under his breath. I wrenched my body, twisting it under him so that I was on my back, and tried pushing him to the side simultaneously.

It barely worked, but I managed to unbalance him and kicked out with my legs, scooting myself back as quickly as I could. It was short lived. He shook his head and tackled me again, his body covering me. I tried to slap him, but he caught my wrist as his dark eyes bore into mine.
I tried again with my other hand and he caught it as I struggled against him.

“Fuck you. Fucking asshole.” My breath heaved as I refused to look at him and tried to yank my wrists from his hands, which only caused him to grip painfully. I looked up into the white sky, the tips of the dead trees licking over the edges of my vision as my breathing slowed, and I became aware of my body, prickling against the air. His body was burning against my flesh and I realised he was hard against my thigh.

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly as I tried to ignore the Judas that was my body. The ache that bloomed inside me was like an Achilles’ heel, dousing the anger and forcing me to surrender, but I didn’t want to give in.

Four weeks, I chanted mentally. Four fucking weeks.

My body relaxed despite my fight and I felt him loosen his grip. Before I had time to think about it, I pulled my wrist and attempted to slap him again, struggling to get the weight behind it as I lay on the ground. I heard the small crack as he growled, knowing that it had hardly made an impression. I pulled it back again, but he sat up out of reach and the air rushed under my skirt as I heard the rip echo.

Tears sprang to my eyes. It was my favourite skirt.

A gasp escaped my mouth as he slid his flesh inside me. I willed myself to lay there, my insides clawing to force the pleasure out. It was what I wanted, yet I didn’t want to want it. I didn’t want him to know how much I wanted it, even if he already knew it.

He suddenly gripped my hair, forcing me to look at him, and we stared at each other until he started to thrust, driving his hips against mine in deliberate calculated movements as my back pressed against the earth underneath me. I tried to concentrate on blocking him out: feeling the small stones as they marked the back of my lungs, a twig that scratched across my lower back and the damp that had penetrated my top. My resistance was futile. I would always melt against his hardness, he would always knead me into what he wanted it, but it would never stop me from fighting. I hated how he did this to me. Purposely driving me to the edge, turning me into this uncontrollable mass of belligerence so that he could break me down again. I knew what he was doing but I couldn’t stop.

I felt a sudden emptiness as he withdrew and knelt, watching me carefully. I was prey that he stalked and toyed with and I suddenly wondered what the hell I was doing. Why was I doing this? I suddenly scrambled up as he reached for me, tearing away the remainder of my skirt. I shot him a dirty look before taking another step back and in a swift movement he was on his feet. Was it fight or flight? The slow sinking feeling in my gut warned me. If I turned and ran now, I was actually leaving. Was this what I wanted?

I took another step back as our eyes locked together, my body half turning away. I wanted to look behind me but I couldn’t tear my eyes away; his black irises unreadable as he watched me. For a split second my eyelids drew down and I tilted my face towards the sky, drawing myself into my body in attempt to clear my mind and just stop thinking, hoping the answer would come.

Once again the wind was knocked from me as I gasped, my eyes flying open in shock as I heard another tear and found myself naked against a dead tree. He’d clean torn my top away and roughly spread my legs apart, impaling me on his hard cock. I instinctively shrank back, but I had nowhere to go as the trunk grazed against my skin. He was angry and I was suddenly afraid. It wasn’t as if I’d never seen him angry before, but usually it was contained, in the same way he contained his disappointment.

“Do you want to leave… me?”

His voice was hard but the last word was barely audible that I wasn’t sure I’d heard it.

My mouth dropped open and the air caught sharply in my throat as he fucked me relentlessly, the angry emotion rolling off his skin. I fought to suppress my groans, and my pleasure. The sting from my back brought tears to my eyes. A grunt of pain escaped my lips and still he fucked me. I mumbled under my breath, a jumble of curses directed at the both of us, a false bravado trying to contain my fear. Between the iciness of the air and the scent of earth slithered the coppery tang as the hot liquid slid down my back. It reached us both simultaneously and I stared into his eyes, the fleeting vunerability shocking me as we yielded, our voices screaming out into the colourless sky.

I should’ve been crying. I should’ve been emotionally undone, but the shock kept me in perpetual state of feeling as though I was holding my breath as he continued to pin me against the tree.

He reached around and touched my back as I flinched, his palm covered in blood as he brought it between us and ran it over my breast and down my torso.

He then kissed me, sighing into my mouth.

This was posted 7 Dec 11 at 11.24am.

I’m stuck in this limbo as I look around. There’s a blonde on the dance floor. I know her from somewhere, and she’s just gorgeous, pissed but absolutely stunning, even as she waves her hands like a maniac. She knows the words to each song that comes on and dances enthusiastically. Bleach blondes are not my thing, but she wears high-waisted leopard pants like no-one I’ve seen. I want to kiss her, and I stop and think about it. It’s just the idea of kissing that makes me hot and the potential of rubbing up against each other, but I don’t want to eat her pussy, it’s actually the furthest thing from my mind.

Strange that, the attraction is so strong, yet sucking cock is more second nature to me, but I cannot find myself attracted to one man in this place. There’s always something wrong, the smell, the look, the imagination… I think back and realise how lucky I’ve been. It’s shallow but I realise, every cock I’ve had, to me has been aesthetically pleasing, and I understand, after this long, if I was to search out another one, I’d probably luck out.

And then there’s you.. you who’ve I’ve fucked for so long, whose every contour I’ve known and loved and yet you, who is so indifferent. No compliment moves you, no touch of mine, any longer turns you on. There was a time where we screwed each other senseless: after nights out, excusing ourselves from friend’s places nearby, in public places when we couldn’t wait…

Yet now, there is nothing.

I can’t understand, as much as I try. I read things about hormones, and aging and being a whinging fucking bitch.  I read about being critical and trying to understand how much of it is my fault, but it’s so hard…

It’s so hard when I know in one command, if you wanted it, I’d be ready on my knees each time you walked through that door. Everything is available to you, every orifice and almost every fantasy, that I could find within me, each boundary made to bow and possibly break…

What does it take? I want to know. I’ve been ignored in lingerie countless times, I’ve cried, begged, pleaded, insulted. I’ve been angry, disgusting and treated you as if you didn’t exist while men happily paid me attention thinking they’d get me home to screw me, only to realise that it was never going to happen.

And I’ve pretended that’s it’s okay for weeks and then months. I’d given up wearing all the things that made me feel like a woman, doing all those things that made me feel like it was worth it.

Then I wondered why. Why was I short changing myself.

So I groom. I get my cunt waxed by the lovely Asian lady down the road. I prune and pluck and try to keep myself in shape. I pull my sexy clothes out of the cupboard and wear them standing next to you as we go out. I see the lust in people’s eyes and die inside bit by bit, knowing that I am going home to nothing. To a bed where two people kiss almost platonically, and rollover separate ways to go to sleep.

The only thing that keeps me sane is masturbating. Being kind to myself, while my toes curls in front of the screen and I see other people having the pleasure that I once used to know and yet again, even more, I die, bit by bit.

I waste away, trying to understand what it means to live without it. Asking the question of how long I can ignore my needs and what it means to live, when you want to be wanted but are not.

This was posted 31 Oct 11 at 2.57pm.

Chivalry was most certainly dead I noted as I watched a group of fifteen of so pot-bellied or soon to be working executives, crowd around a table and sit down. My expression hovered on the edge of disgust. They all held glasses of beer and were so self-absorbed, it didn’t occur to them that the one woman that was with their group, was left to the find herself a seat.

I was all for equality, and maybe these notions were outdated or soft, but I enjoyed opening doors or finding a chair for the fairer sex. I equated them to manners.

Of course the woman seemed completely unperturbed. I watched as she found an empty chair and brought it to table, forced to sit at the corner.

I shook my head and took a mouthful of whiskey, watching her sit down and was momentarily transfixed. She had the most slender, elegant neck I’d ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. My grip tightened on the tumbler I was holding, as I was inundated with entirely inappropriate mental pictures. I shifted in my seat, suppressing a wry grin at the transparency of my obvious weakness.

She ordered a drink, and when the waitress returned, I watched the woman take a sip of the burgundy and swallow, commanding my eyes to watch her the slight contraction of her neck. I looked up to her face and found her looking back. For a moment I had to think about my reaction after realising that it would’ve been difficult to ascertain that I’d admiring her neck and not ogling her breasts like a lech. Well, I was being lecherous, just not towards the most obvious area.

I gave her a small, genuine smile, willing the desire from my eyes and she regarded me curiously.

The waitress blocked my view, asking me if I’d like another drink. Instead I asked her for a piece of paper. When she returned I wrote on it and asked her if she would give it to the woman on the table opposite me. She promptly took it over and handed it to the woman who carefully unfolded the paper and read what I had written.

Her eyes skirted over the words several times, and I could see her fighting the smile that tugged at the corner of lips. I looked down at my tumbler and considered calling it a night when the waitress reappeared, returning the piece of paper with a smirk. I raised my eyebrow at her and took it from her hand.

Feeling chivalrous?

I looked up as she sipped her burgundy again, and shot me a challenging look. Without hesitation, I got up and went over to her table.

“Excuse gentlemen, I apologise for interrupting but I’m afraid I’m compelled to whisk your colleague away.”

The amusement sparkled in her dark eyes as she tried to not laugh. The men stopped talking and looked at me in confusion, and then watched her as she stood up from the table and collected her briefcase. I proffered my arm. She nodded to the table and took it as we walked to the bar.

She put her briefcase on the ground and settled her glass on the bar looking up at me. “Are you always so gallant?”

I tilted my head slightly as I looked at her. “Hmm, I don’t know about gallantry, but manners were an important trait in my parent’s household. Would you like a seat?”

She laughed. “Thank you but no. I’ve been sitting constantly for the last two days. Far too many meetings. I must thank you though… for rescuing me.”

I gave a short bow. “My pleasure.”

She laughed again. “Would you like a drink?”

I looked at her glass of wine. “I would say yes, but I’d like to go elsewhere.”

“Sure, why not”

“You don’t want to finish your wine?” I nodded towards her glass.

“No, that’s okay.” She looked me straight in the eye. “I think I’d like something a little stronger.”

We ended up further down the road at Le Chat Noir, conveniently finding two seats in a dark corner against the bar. She asked for whatever I was having.

“Whiskey? Neat?”

She shrugged. “Sure, if I drink anything else, it will go down far too easily.”

I turned signalled the bartender over and thought about what other things would go down far too easily. I smiled. While the bartender poured our drinks I looked up at the ceiling. Watching me, she did the same, curious as to what I was looking at. She turned her head and tilted her chin up she looked and I savoured the creamy expanse of her flesh, my eyes trailing down to her décolleté. I felt my mouth water. My fingers would surely overlap.

Her expression was puzzled as she gave the ceiling one more look before giving up.

Two hours and three drinks later, she was inebriated. I could only tell by her eyes, as she put it away incredibly well.

“I think I’m going to call it a night.” She smiled and putting her hand on my thigh, and I feel the heat from her palm as she slid off the barstool carefully.

I smiled back and stood up, walking her out of the bar. “Do you want me to hail you a cab?” I asked her as we stood on the sidewalk.

She shook her head. “No, I think I could do with some fresh air.”

I looked around. The street was relatively quiet, and I became concerned at the thought of letting her walk alone. “I’d be happy to go for walk, if you’d like the company. I don’t feel quite comfortable, letting you walk by yourself.”

She grinned and chuckled, “Ah, yes ever so gallant.” handing me her briefacse.

I laughed and took it from her.

When we reached the park, she walked through the gates. I paused and looked at her incredulously. “You were going to shortcut through the park?”

“Yes.”

I shook my head, feeling relieved that I didn’t let her go alone. The gravel path crunched under our footsteps. It was well lit, but the thought of her walking alone was unnerving to say the least. Suddenly she turned off the path into the shadows. I followed her quickly and watched her sit up on a picnic table.

“God…” she groaned. “Sorry, I’ve been in these shoes all day.”

I put the briefcase down on the benchseat, and stood in front of her. “I’d offer to take off your shoes but, you might not be able to get them back on.”

“I know, but I don’t think I have a choice. I need to take them off.”

I bent down and picked up one of her legs by the ankle, slipping the shoe off. I looked down at the six inch heel. Not exactly office friendly. I slipped the other off as she groaned in appreciation, a sound that I was starting to have trouble ignoring. I looked around and realised the picnic table was shaded by a tree, with no view of the path that we’d come from. I picked up one of her ankles again and massaged the arches of her feet with my thumbs. Instantly she started groaning again.

“Oh God, stop… no don’t stop…”

I paused. “If you keep talking like that…”

She stopped instantly. “If I keep talking like what?” Her voice was low and husky as she reached out and grabbed my tie, tugging me gently down to her. Putting her lips next to ear, she groaned quietly. “No, don’t stop, don’t stop…”

I gripped her shoulders tightly. “I…”

“It’s okay…”

“Really?” I arched an eyebrow and grabbed her hips pulling her roughly against me. Despite the wear of the day her hair smelt freshly washed.

“Mmmm.”

I crushed my mouth against her, mashing our lips together and forcing hers to part as I dipped my tongue in her mouth and swept it along hers, our whiskey aroma breaths rolling together. My hand threaded through her dark tresses, and I slowly tightened my fist around them and tugged her back gently, peeling her mouth away from mine. Her eyes travelled up my face until they met mine, raising an eyebrow with the beginnings of a smirk. A wry grin tugged at my lips, and I dipped my head, nuzzling just under her earlobe and running my lips slowly against her jaw.

Her moan hummed against the inside of her neck, just detectable against the flesh of her arch and I pulled her hips harder against me, rubbing between her legs with the hardness of my cock. I traced my tongue along her skin, until I reached the hollow of neck, feeling her shudder under me. I continued swirling it in that pocket of flesh as if I were fucking the base of her throat with my tongue. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed at me, writhing and rubbing herself desperately against my cock. I smiled slowly against her prickling skin, allowing myself to be enveloped by my desire as I closed my eyes. She tugged against my shirt, pulling it out of my pants as I continued to assault that small dip in her neck and I heard the clang of my belt buckle as it smashed against edge of the wooden table.

She gasped. I’d stripped her of her teasing, replacing it with hunger, allowing her to twist in that vortex of urgency as I took my sweet time.

Eventually she stopped tugging at my trousers, and was attempting to wriggle her hips away. I paused and looked down to see her trying to remove her underwear. I gripped her hair a little tighter and she whimpered but didn’t stop what she was doing. Promptly I let go and pushed her down on the table.

“Need some help.” I wasn’t really asking as I snaked my hands up beneath her skirt and pulled her panties down roughly. They protested with the snap of stitches and she groaned as they slid over her thighs. I then pulled her hips back to the edge of the table as I undid my trousers and freed my hard cock, giving it a few strokes as my fingers traced up her thighs. I didn’t even get near her pussy, her inner thigh was slick.

Pushing myself against her wet lips, I paused. “Is this what you want?”

A strained yes was her reply and I slid all the way home. She was wet, hot and completely on the edge as she quivered around me and it wasn’t long before I began pounding my hips against her, laying on the table with her skirt bunched up around her hips. The scent of fucking instantly permeated the air between us. I leaned over her and placed one of my hands at the base of her, stroking the sides of her neck with my fingers and thumb. That column of flesh that looked so strong yet could be crushed underneath a hand. The movement of her throat under my palm as she breathed challenged my control as I felt the pressure build up.

I twitched suddenly and my hand instinctively tightened around her neck. I looked down and our eyes met in the darkness.

She rose and pushed her neck against my palm. “Do it!”

I didn’t need prompting again. My hand closed around her throat and the gurgling and gasping that came from her mouth was like a rising symphonic crescendo. The rush overtook me as I plunged madly on the edge of sanity, the choking sounds vibrating against my hand and somehow reaching my cock as I came, purging my demons, a cry ripping from my mouth while hers was jailed in her throat with no way out.

This was posted 28 Sep 11 at 4.55pm. It has 7 notes.

It was loud and sweaty, and I hated it. I hated when I could smell the body odour of boys who smelt like they’d put their clothes on before they dried properly—that or they hadn’t had a shower in awhile. I couldn’t see the band from where I was standing, and in this grubby little bar that I call my local, everything was pissing me off. Gorgeous young girls with great thick hair and cute dresses whose expressions screamed of cool prentension, friends of the bartenders who thought it gave them licence to be assholes to everyone else, and the loss of manners where people just shoved past each other as if it were normal—that when someone actually smiled and gave you that “excuse me” or “oops, isn’t it busy in here” expression that you were actually surprised.

All of that, and it was my fault. I just couldn’t handle the claustrophia without several drinks and I wasn’t in the mood tonight. I was here for the music though, fuck everyone else. 

I tried to look between the gaps in the crowd and eventually gave up. Before I knew, I was completely enclosed. There was going to be no moving unless I desperately needed to go to the toilet or wanted to leave. 

Someone pushed into the back of me and I was only able to turn around slightly to make out an apologetic shrug behind me. It was a waste of effort as the sea of people suddenly became more dense. The band started to a round of applause and wolf-whistles and I felt the floor reverberate under my soles with the music of what sounded like Beverly Hillbillies and The Adams Family love-children riding their instruments. I could just make out the the neck of the double bass as someone moved to the beat.

I couldn’t help but smile as I my body began move, the annoyance of the jostling crowd slowly eased away. I had forgotten the smells and my dislike of being rubbed up on sweaty bodies I wasn’t attracted to. As I was trying to recount the number of songs that had been played, the next one started and simultaneously the space around me almost became airtight. It was impossible to turn around as I found myself involuntarily moving with the motion of the crowd around me. Suddenly I was pressed up against the person in front of me without being able to stop, my eyes widening in shock as something hard pressed against my crotch. I tried to back away, but I had nowhere to go and found my arse pressing against the person behind me. I put my hand up to signal my apology and attempted to stay still, but to no avail. I stole a glance either side of me the people next to me were too absorbed in the music. Once again I was pushed forward, and again I felt the hardness against my crotch, realising the the person in front of me had their hands being their back and I was being pressed into the their fingers. Again I resisted and tried to stop myself from being pushed forward, only to find that I had now been wedged in between the two people. I felt the panic rise up, as the crowd moved even more, gasping as I felt the fingers move against the front of my jeans. I jerked back instinctively, but there was no where to go.

The next number had begun, the crowd went absolutely wild in some sort of dysfunctional motion. The person behind me pushed me firmly into the person in front. To the frenzied beat of the music, I could feel the person behind rub up and down against my arse as the person in front massaged their fingers against my crotch. My heart beat double-time as I gulped lungfuls of hot thick air.

Against my will the throb began, my underwear suddenly moving easier against my clit. Over and over the person behind me moved against me, and person in front of me, their fingers did not stop. The alarm flashed over me as the crescendo drove the crowd into frenzy.

I was going to come.

I suddenly twisted my hips as I tried to resist it the impending wave. My skin prickled and nipples hardened against a cloak of goosebumps, but I was fighting a losing battle. I could feel the heat under my arms and the sweat on my brow, shuddering as it hit me. My body attempted to sag but the fingers were relentless and driving me to stiffen against them before coming once more to the cacophony of guitar strings and drum beats. I gasped hard feeling every amplified vibration as if it were echoing through my cunt.

Then I finally sagged, bending over, vaguely aware of the people that were moving around.   

“I like that you come like that.” Someone whispered in my ear.

By the time I registered and forced myself to stand up, everyone around had moved on.

This was posted 15 Aug 11 at 11.26am.

He was incredibly beautiful as I tried not to stare over what was originally a teppanyaki table. I poked at the tofu with my wooden chopsticks and looked around.

It didn’t matter how long I’d been using chopsticks for, I would never look as at home as the Asians around me who quietly ate their food. I looked at the trail of sesame seeds speckled on the gyoza. Even having dumplings made me feel so Western. I quietly sighed, feeling the sag of my shoulders and pushed the gyoza around the dish watching it slide over the mixture of sauce and chilli oil. 

I stole another look, asborbing the porcelain shade of his skin. I imagined pressing my cheek against his and sliding slowly against him. Desire prickled me in a hail of goosebumps as my nipples strained against my bra. I closed my eyes, sitting motionless as the feeling washed over me and my flesh relaxed. It was just the beginning though, as it showered over me again and the gentle yet constant throb began. 

Opening my eyes, I stared down at the food, but I wasn’t seeing it. I was seeing a tangle of sweaty limbs, his and mine. I wondered how much hair he’d have on his body, knowing it would be minimal. I wondered about his thighs and the size of his cock. I wondered about his grooming habits and a smile slowly crept over my face at the fact that I was mentally undressing him in a restaurant, well, mentally undressing and fucking him. I looked over to him once again and the smile froze on my face. He looked at me, almost expressionless. I didn’t know if it was a hint of curiousity that I saw or if I was imagining it. I turned away and looked around the restaurant and when I turned back, he gone back to eating, his long and pale slender fingers holding the black chopsticks.

I realised I’d been holding my breath and I turned back to my food. It was cold and I’d lost my appetite, well for food that was. I forced myself to eat a little more before I gave up. I suppose that’s what I got for mentally accosting people. I gathered up my things and made my way to the counter, pulling my Winter coat on. I pulled my wallet out and breathed in sharply as I walked into the person in front of me.

“I’m so sorry.” 

It felt as though my heart was being squeezed. I’d walked straight into the same beautiful man. He looked at me still expressionless, and nodded as he side-stepped me walking out the door. I didn’t even have an opportunity to watch him go as the person at the register, asked me my table number. I handed over the money, ignored the change and walked outside.

The air was cool and I tucked my scarf into my jacket, making sure no gaps were exposed. I looked left towards the road, trying to decide which way I felt like walking home. I glanced to the right and saw the man walking along slowly. That I wasn’t expecting. He should’ve been long gone. I chewed my lip and against my better judgement followed him. I thought about listening to some music as my footsteps echoed on the concrete. I didn’t really know what I was doing. If I kept going this way, it would be a long walk home. I watched the pavement, the shadows changing shape as I walked past. I looked up several minutes later and realised he was gone. I stopped and looked back. I was about half way. Going back the same way I came was going to take the same amount of time. I reached into my bag to check the time on my phone and found myself stumbling backwards. I flung my arm out to balance and somehow found myself in someone’s arms. I felt the heat from their chest through my jacket.

My expression turned from shock to recognition, but nothing came out of my mouth. The same expressionless face looked at me, and I looked down at where his slender fingers were wrapped around my upper arm. It was strange how something that looked so elegant could feel like a steel vice. I froze as my heart pounded on. I didn’t wince. I didn’t speak. I was stuck somewhere between fear and exhilaration.

Then I kissed him.

His hand instantly dropped away from my arm. He didn’t touch me or respond. I pulled back slowly, a half smile settling on my face as I looked at his lips, thin and masculine, yet soft and warm. I held back a chuckle, realising how insane I appeared. 

“Eh, not your type.” I said quietly. 

It wasn’t really a question. I felt my bag to make sure I hadn’t dropped my phone. I’d been pulled into a dark doorway, and I looked back at the footpath. He suddenly pressed me back against the wall in the doorway, his hand against the side of my neck and kissed me hard. The back of my head bumped against the concrete wall as my lips parted. His tongue swept against mine I could taste the sweetness of sake. I ran my hands slowly along the chest of his jacket, down towards his pants. I barely made it to his hips when I felt him grip both my wrists. He then let go, grabbing my hips and pulling me against him. I groaned into his mouth as I felt his erection pressing through his pants. I put my hand against his cock and stroked the length of it through the material, as he hissed into my mouth. He slipped his hand beneath my jacket and cupped my breast. I pressed into his palm in response.

I trembled, grabbing at his pants, loosening his belt and upzipping his fly, glad that he was also wearing a long Winter coat. He smelt musky, like a mix of the working day and desire, as I slid the palm of my fingers against the smooth flesh of his cock. I didn’t think it was possible for me to be any wetter and it was his turn to groan as he quickly pushed up my skirt and slid his hand beneath my stockings. My panties were soaked as he stroked his finger against my clit. I knocked my head against the wall again, the feeling of his fingers on me and thought of them inside me wiping any sense of sanity I had left.

I just wanted, no needed it as I succumbed to my body and felt the thrill of my stockings tearing against my cunt. We both moaned as he pushed himself into me. I threw my arms around his neck and my legs around him as he drove into me, each thrust slamming my lower back against the wall. I wasn’t going to last long. I pressed my lips against his neck, smothering my nostrils in the scent of his skin. My tongue darted against his flesh and I felt him quiver. My eyebrow rose and I smiled against him, baring my teeth and as I gently nipped. He flinched but didn’t stop, as he gripped my cheeks tightly, causing me to moan and realise I was at the precipice. I closed my eyes and slowly nipped harder, causing him to jerk hard. My lower back hit the wall a little too hard and the pain sent me over. I arched as my body stiffened and then sagged against him, twitching as the I came, my cunt spasming around his cock. I barely heard his groan through my haze. I was inside myself, selfishly revelling. I could’ve been naked on the sidewalk and likely not cared. I didn’t open my eyes until I heard his zipper being pulled up and I looked down. He’d already pulled my skirt down and buttoned up my jacket. 

I heard the click of a latch the door opened up in the doorway we were standing. He stood against the door watching me. When I didn’t move, he pulled me inside and whispered slowly as the door closed behind me.

“Just. My. Type.”

This was posted 6 Jul 11 at 2.54pm.

He leant over and whispered in my ear. “She’s quite exquisite.”

I simply nodded.

“Is…”

I silenced him with my finger and stood up, motioning for him to follow me out of the room. I waited till he was through the doorway and closed the door quietly behind him.

“I’m sorry, no she’s not.”

He put his hands in his pocket and nodded. “I see. That’s a shame. I could make it worth your while.”

We both laughed. Even if I desperately needed the money, my answer would still be the same.

“Where did you find her? It’s not like you to hide something so beautiful. We all know your habit of sharing,” He paused. “you’re not usually interested unless you’re ready to let them go.”

I shrugged. For some reason I was reluctant to discuss it. “It’s only early days.”

He nodded again. 

I opened the door and we re-entered, taking our seats. She hadn’t moved. I watched as he admired her form. He finished the last of his drink in a large gulp and stood up. I accepted his handshake. I walked him to the front door as he collected his coat.

“Well, if you should ever change your mind… I’d like you to call me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I see. Not at the club?” 

He cocked his head slightly and looked at me. “Yes… but for some reason, I don’t think I’ll be hearing from you.”

I gave him a small smile, and tried not to give anything away.

After he left, I returned to the den and stood there watching her for several moments before removing the tumblers and gently lifting the glass tabletop from her back. I put it away and returned, circling around her naked body slowly. She still hadn’t moved. I was pleased.

“You may sit pet.”

She sat back on her feet, her eyes still shut. I watched her face and noticed her bottom lip quivering. A tear ran down her face.

“What is wrong pet?”

She opened her eyes, her dark irises focusing on mine. “Please… please… I don’t want…”

I sighed and shook my head. “You did not ask, and I did not give permission to speak freely. I thought we would have been clear by now.”

She stiffened and pursed her lips together tightly, trying not cry. I sighed again. Disobedience, after such a good behaviour.

I spoke quietly. “Now, what did you do wrong?”

She sucked a deep breath in, struggling for control. “I’m sorry Sir. I spoke freely without permission and I allowed my emotions to get in the way. I am not here to serve my needs, I am here to serve yours.”

Her husky voice did not miss a beat. I would have been proud - it had almost been a perfect night. I pressed my lips together as I contemplated her punishment. To be honest, I wasn’t really in the mood, but I could not let this go unpunished. Reluctantly, I opened the cupboard and surveyed my collection. It seemed that I had developed quite the cane fetish over the years, as it rapidly dominated all my other tools, and eventually I packed what little I had left away, just in case. 

Several years ago, I was put onto a man who had spent decades making canes. His was an interesting story. He had become so obssessed with making them, that it taken over his life. Word had it, that the closest he seemed to get to it these days, was watching his partner stoke specific canes with her slender fingers, which drove him into a frenzy. Of course, I never did ask. Seeing him, was by appointment only. In fact, you could only meet him by appointment on recommendation, and even then, he decided whether he would allow you to purchase or make your custom request. Thankfully his reaction to me was a positive one.

I wasn’t sure what he saw in me, but he’d taken a liking, often asking me down to his place of creation and bantering with me to try out his protypes, though I suspected he had me pegged from the very first moment he met me. He also seemed to be able to predict with uncanny accuracy how long I would keep the partners that I had.

The canes were mounted vertically in the cabinet. I was primarily a single shaft man, with only one multi-strand cane in the closet. My eyes stopped on the whangee that I no longer used. 

I doubted it was an uncommon story amongst the men I knew, but once was enough for me. For awhile I knew an alluring redhead, very Jessica Rabbit like. Quick-witted and highly intelligent. Corporate ball-buster by day and pain addict during the downtime. She was an interesting creature, with perfect, creamy, unblemished skin. At first and even occasionally afterwards, it seemed to me that it was almost a terrible thing to mark her flesh. She was a dangerous woman too, afterall, we were only men. I should have known the moment I looked into her eyes, as she was bent over on all fours. Her derrière was irresistible, and out of her mouth came everything you wanted to hear, but it was her eyes that told another story. They were continuously like pale green ice, goading, challenging and almost contemptuous. 

That look could drive a man to lose control. 

Sometimes it concerned me that she was possibly vicariously administering self-punishment through me. For what reason, I didn’t know, but it eventually came to a head. After several sessions, it was clear that beyond anything the pain had become first and foremost. It was bigger than the both of us and driving us down a hazardous path. On the final night, I had severely bruised the skin and broken the flesh in two places as I teetered on the edge, and then regained my senses and pulled back.

Her fiery red hair was matted around her forehead as a combination of perspiration and tears covered her face. Her eyes were serene as she looked at me and whispered “Thank you.”, before promptly passing out. After I checked her pulse, I cleaned her wounds, applied ice, and then a salve for the bruising, very aware of how painful it was going to be. I attempted several times to discuss our last session but she remained mute on the subject.

Afterwards, everything changed. I lost whatever desire I had for her, and, she for lack of a better word, had been broken in. Her demeanour had changed. She became completely acquiescent, with a hint of desperation, and no longer the defiant woman I once knew. She also wanted continue, and whether she wanted more or less as result of what happened, I didn’t have the heart to discover. I recommended to her to a gentlemen I knew. She didn’t need an extremely hard master, she needed someone who was experienced enough to be able to understand what was going on. It was possible I could’ve read it wrong, but an absolute pain slut was not what I was particularly interested in. It was difficult to say whether I saw what happened as any sort of achievement, triumph or dismal failure. Either way, it was something I’d never forget. Perhaps it explained why the whangee was mounted at the very top of the case. I knew I’d never use it again.

I often thought about whether it mattered, but to me, somehow it did. When it no longered mattered who was administering the cane, like a flaccid cock, I lost interest. It seemed that maybe over the years I’d become too apt with the cane, and that was the phallus they fell in love with. 

Still despite it all, and a period of hitatus where I wanted to see if I could survive without my dark affliction, here I was, and there she was. I didn’t tell her, but I’d ordered a cane especially for her. 

It had never bothered me before. I’d used all my canes on several bottoms, but I didn’t want that for her. I wanted her to have her own, regardless of what happened. 

Somehow he knew, and yet again, knew something I didn’t. When I picked up the cane I’d ordered, he unwrapped some cloth and handed it to me. 

“What’s this?” I frowned.

“Your cane.”

“I didn’t order this.”

“I know.” He grinned at me. “Go on, pick it up.”

I shied away from fancy or adorned canes. Some of the designs I found far too garish, although others no doubt would’ve have found them beautiful. All my canes were undecorated, right down to the handle. This one was not. It had simple black handle and what looked like an onyx embedded on the top. The wood was not rattan, only betrayed by it’s reddish colour.

I held it in my hand. It felt perfect. I’d never thought of that before, and it struck me as odd. I let the cane bounce downward between my palm and my thumb, and then gripped the handle and rotated my wrist, flicking it back.

He’d lost his grin, but gave me a serious knowing look. I felt that he wanted to tell me it was the one, but restrained himself.

“It’s certainly beautiful.”

He nodded. “That it is.”

“What is it?”

“Padauk.” He shrugged. “I’ve had it for awhile, it just didn’t come to me - how to fashion it, until recently.”

I nodded. “I see. What do I owe you?”

He waved his hand in the air as if to dismiss my question.

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“You can and you will. You know what to do with it.” He smiled kindly at me. “Take it as thank you for being a friend.”

I didn’t know what to say. I rapped it against my palm, feeling the sting. “Thank you. I’m honoured.”

He smiled again. “While a gentleman never tells, should you ever feel inclined…”

I smiled back. Perhaps I would offer him something more descriptive, something to go with his visual fetish.

—

I did have a looped cane which sat unused. The thought of the adorning flesh with petals or butterfly wings appeared to appeal to me, but when it came to deciding, I seemed to always reach for my trusted rods. I picked up her black handled cane, and closing the cabinet I turned to her.

The fear flashed in her eyes, before she tried to replace it with resolve and I paused. This would be her first time, and I considered giving her a choice.

“My pet, do you wish for an alternative punishment?”

She looked down at the floor. “No Sir. I will accept my reprimand, however you choose to deliver it.”

I didn’t realise I’d held my breath. The anticipation stirred in me instantly, and I wondered where it had been before this moment. I touched the tip of the cane with my fingertip and slowly ran the shaft back and forth through my palm.

Sometimes it didn’t mattered how well practised or controlled you were, occasionally I still had the urge to go against commonsense, to let my lust distract me from my sense of responsibility. The thought of caning her backside without mercy, and visualisation of the angry red marks on her flesh made my cock excrutiatingly hard as I gripped the cane tightly, my knuckles whitening at the imagery. I almost lost my grip when I envisaged pushing through her tight sphincter, as it resisted my forceful entry, and for a split second the line blurred as the carnal lust almost overtook me. I hadn’t moved, but it was as though I’d reached for her.

I looked back at her, and was most likely grateful that she hadn’t looked up or tried to. If the look of the cane instilled fear into her, no doubt my moment of inability to keep my desires from my face would have inspired tenfold.

I silently took slow, deep breaths to regain focus. 

I pointed to the couch with the cane. “Pet.”

She obediently got up and kneeled on the couch, proffering her unmarked flesh in the air. I gently ran the back of my fingers along her flesh, noting it was a little cool to the touch. The temperature had dropped a couple of degrees, and while I hadn’t looked outside, it was obvious that evening had fallen. 

She would be warm soon enough.

I tapped the cane gently, watching it bounce against her skin. Although it carried barely any force, her initial reaction was to flinch. I stopped and looked over her body. What dark hair didn’t cover her shoulder blades, hung down past her neck. I traced the curve of her spine to where it met the small of her back and then curved over yet again into the crevice that hid her lips from view. Despite the curves, her body was rigid. This would not do.

“Relax.”

I watched for several minutes as she battled to control herself and stop from tensing. Somewhere, she managed something in between. I knew she wouldn’t stop from flinching, at least not this time.

“Breathe.”

I heard her breath out shakily. She didn’t realise she’d been holding her breath.

I tapped her again with the cane and this time, although she flinched, she recovered quickly and tried in earnest to relax. 

This time I did not stop.

I applied the cane against her skin in short rapid strokes, working it against both cheeks firmly, but not enough to cause significant pain. Her flesh turned a pretty shade of pink under the wood. It was like quickly flicking paint with a long handled brush.

I noted she’d stayed silent throughout when I finally stopped and inspected her arse. I liked to keep the area confined specifically to cheeks, and while I still enjoyed the administering the occasional spanking - I was specific with that too. I disliked it when the colour travelled down past the top of the thighs.

I gently pressed my palm against pink skin and felt the warmth as I gave both cheeks a rub. I pressed the cane between her thigh and motioned for her to spread her legs as I contemplated sliding the cane between her legs. 

Pain before pleasure.

Eight.

I would give her eight.

The cane made a beautiful whir, complemented by the scream that ripped from her mouth. My lower gut tightened as I felt a small satisfied smile tug at the corner of lips. I was controlled, but no doubt the tip would still feel as though it was slicing flesh.

By the third she was sobbing and I executed the fourth listening to her cry out. I almost wanted to stop and slide my throbbing cock into her mouth, and feel her quivering lips around me.

By the sixth stroke, she was shaking, unable to control her body as it spasmed. I was harder and more coiled than I could recall. There were two moments that often fought for supremacy, and it was merely a difference between standing or falling. Sometimes it was a twisted cycle between the satisfaction and pleasure of control. Occasionally when they broke and begged you to stop it was both thrilling and disappointing in the same way as when they withstood.

This time however the pleasure and pride was overwhelming. I resisted the urge to make the last two strikes harder. Her screams didn’t change, and neither did her sobbing. It probably didn’t help that I hadn’t told her how many she would receive.

I stopped and she flinched hard when she felt my palms against her burning skin. I rubbed gently over the eight welts that looked like eight perfect fingers splayed over her cheeks. I relished the feeling of the raised flesh underneath my fingers, until I could almost take no more. I slid my fingers between legs and to my sheer delight I found her incredibly wet. I flipped her over and quickly freeing my cock I plunged into her.

She looked at me wide-eyed, her lips forming an “o” as fresh tears slid out of her eyes. Her cheeks were scarlet, almost matching her backside and she grunted hard as I squeezed her arse tightly.

More tears fell as I fucked her and I could feel the rise as she was coming apart under me. I gripped her hips painfully and I continued to thrust and lose myself in the lustful high that fogged my brain.

“Permission to be free.” I ground out as she gripped my cock and my head tipped back from the pleasure. 

Her groans chimed in with the sounds our wet flesh. 

“Sir. I’m. Sorry.” She spoke haltingly.

I simply nodded. She’d already apologised. I’d accepted and reprimanded her. There was no need to apologise again.

“No sir, I’m really sorry. I… I…” 

I didn’t stop, but I frowned at her as I increased my speed, thrusting harder between her legs. I slid one of my hands between her breasts and up around her throat as she looked me in the eye. I felt the sharp rise clawing within, caught up in the vortex that was pulling us both down, amplifying every thrust. 

“Don’t share me.”

I blinked. She’d said it so quickly that I wasn’t sure of what I heard as her words were drowned out by the rush as I came. 

Her legs shook around me as I slowly rocked inside her, running my fingers over her insistent welts. I groaned, no matter how many times I touched the raised flesh of my own doing, it was like a neverending aphrodisiac. I felt her tug my wrist and bring my hand to her mouth, gently kissing my palm and I stopped, almost taken by surprise as what she said slowly registered.

She looked at me with not a pleading, but what seemed like determination. I couldn’t supress the short, sharp swell of my heart. It seemed that my one deeply buried desire had just been resurrected and suddenly I wasn’t sure how I should feel.

“I see.” I withdrew and pressed against her sphincter, and my lids drew down as she pushed against me, forcing my head into her tightness. I heard our groans and I slid in slowly as I almost went out of my head. I slid my thumb over her clit and she bucked on my cock. The grip was breathtaking as I started to stroke.

“Ohhhhhh”. A long low animalistic groan rolled slowly from her lips.

I grunted in unison as I pushed my full weight on her, pressing her legs back against her body and thrusting madly like man possessed.

“Beat me if you must. Punish me. Cane me or whip my cunt but don’t share me.” Her sentence was punctuated by gasping breaths.

Whipping wasn’t usually my thing, but the sudden image of whipping her between her legs made me stop sharply as I squeezed her hips painfully. She grimaced, her face contorting tightly and I watched in fascination before I realised how hard I had pinned my fingers to her flesh and I slowly released them.

“Do you know what you are asking?” Of me, I thought. The words sounded strange to my ears.

She looked at me for several moments and then nodded.

With a rush of violent possession, I took her until she screamed.

This was posted 5 Nov 10 at 1.26pm. It has 2 notes.

I didn’t know why we did it. 

That probably wasn’t entirely true. Logically, we both could say that we gave each other something that we needed. Although we’d both never admit it - it was unhealthy. 

Well, some part of me felt it was unhealthy, but I couldn’t really speak for him.

His fingers dug into my wrist as I looked up surprise. This was new. I never really saw him until the end of the night, and even then I didn’t really “see” him. He’d just appear and pick me up.

My eyes widened in surprise and I frowned. I wanted to ask him why he was here. This wasn’t how it usually transpired, but the look in his eye stopped me from saying anything. He was dressed as though he’d just come from work, dark pinstripe suit, impeccable tie, not even loosened at the end of the day. His platinum watched flashed at me as he tugged my wrist towards him and forced me to follow.

I was annoyed, I hadn’t even had a drink. He walked swiftly, forcing me to almost run every few steps to keep up with him. His grip didn’t lessen as he hailed a cab, opening the door and allowing to get in before him. 

“Give him your address.”

I looked at him, suddenly uncomfortable. This was not how we did things.

“Give it to him.” It wasn’t a request.

I stuttered as I gave the cab driver my address. I didn’t know if I liked where this was going.

Ten minutes later we pulled up outside my apartment building. He paid the cab driver, and got out of the cab. I slid along the seat and tried to remember the state of my apartment, but I couldn’t think as the trepidation slipped beneath my flesh. I put my hands on the iron and gate and paused. He waited behind me without a word, as I quietly took and deep breath and pushed it open. I entered the security number, opened the door and walked up the stairs. The elevator had been out of order for months, and I was glad I only lived on the fourth floor. My heels echoed on the concrete steps as we climbed. He said nothing, and neither did I. 

I listened to the sound of the deadbolt sliding back as I unlocked the door and walked inside. I turned the lights on and left him in the kitchen as I dropped my bag on the floor of my bedroom. The silence was strange. I’d never noticed it before.

I took another breath. “Would you like a coffee… or something stronger?”

He shook his head. “You have letters.”

I looked at him in confusion. “What?”

He repeated himself. “You have letters, hidden letters. Letters you can’t part with.”

I looked at him as though he’d slapped me. I’d never told him about any letters, but it was written all over my face. I couldn’t exactly lie about them now.

“So what if I do? What has that got to do with you?”

“I want you to read them to me.”

I shook my head. “No.”

He didn’t move. “You will read them to me.”

I felt nauseous. I shook my head again. I wanted to tell him no again, but somehow I felt it wouldn’t make a difference. He looked a me with a hard glint in his eye and I knew this was something I wasn’t going to win. Without a word I went to my bedroom and pulled out a box from the bottom of my closet. I felt as though my heart was sinking into the pit of my stomach as I lifted the lid and relunctantly pulled out a large envelope.

I walked back into the kitchen and dropped on the table. It landed with a loud slap. I put my hands on my hips.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I told you already.”

I wanted to look at him defiantly, but all I could manage was something that probably looked insolent. I opened the unsealed envelope and pulled out a pile of paper: pages torn out of notepads, ripped sheets, scraps of paper. I picked up the first one and started to read out loud. I wanted to prove him wrong, I wanted to show him it didn’t bother me, but it was impossible. I’d barely gotten to the fourth line before tears streamed down my face. On the seventh line I choked, by the ninth I was sobbing. I stopped and tried to rub the tears from my face.

“Keep going.”

By the end of the page, I couldn’t read anymore. I’d dropped the letter on the floor and was crying uncontrollably into my hands. I heard him walk across the room, and back me into my bedroom. The edge of my bed hit the back of my knees forcing me to sit down. I tried to control my breathing but I couldn’t, the tears just kept coming, and it wasn’t just the pain. It was the humility. He pulled at my clothes and at that moment I felt a flash of anger and slapped him hard with my right hand, taking him completely by surprise. My palm stung as I realised that I still had quite sharp snap in my shoulder.

He growled and I shrank back as he pushed me roughly down the on the bed. He was unceremonious as he shoved my skirt up and jerked my underwear down, and thrust into me hard. My body jolted against the bed from impact. 

A fresh wave of tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.

“How does it make you feel?” He panted.

I didn’t answer.

“Knowing that no one will ever understand you.” 

The tears were cold as they ran into my ears.

“Knowing that no one is ever going to love you like that again.” 

The sound ripped from my lungs as I cried out, the pain consuming me whole. He bent over my body and I tried to slap him again as I screamed.

He caught my wrist and pinned it to the bed, covering my mouth with his, swallowing my sadness whole. I broke apart, piece by piece, gasping with each sob, until finally I couldn’t breathe and choked.

I heard him come as I fought for air. He moved away. I rolled onto my side trying to catch my breath when he grabbed my legs and twisted me onto my stomach, pulling my arse against him before thrusting between my legs again. He drummed his fingers against my clit.

“No, no, no…” I mumbled shaking my head, but even with the cacaphony of raw emotion clouding my head like layers of smothering blankets, I couldn’t control my body. 

… to be continued.

This was posted 12 Oct 10 at 12.37am.

I liked broken. 

Actually that was an understatement. I was infatuated with broken. I didn’t know how to explain it, except that perhaps admit that I was broken too; and that maybe, I had been all along. I would’ve denied it if someone had told me this is where I’d be, years after it should have stopped mattering, years after I should have stopped feeling, but it was as a sharp as if it were only yesterday.

“Hello darling.”

I laughed dryly. “You say that to all the girls. You can do better than that.”

When he said my name, I didn’t know how to react. He didn’t have the sexiest voice that I knew or had ever found panty soaking. I was caught between it sounding foreign, my vowels falling from his lips or something that triggered a vague memory.

I feigned disinterest as he leaned against the bar next to me.

“How long has it been?”

I shrugged. Ten years? More? I didn’t answer.

“You look fucking hot tonight.”

I turned my head and looked around the room, observing people in their own world: talking, drinking, laughing. Years ago that would have meant something to me, and although it didn’t, memories of certain things did. The fact that he still wanted me didn’t go unnoticed. “So what are you doing? The same old thing I suppose.”

He shrugged and grinned.

We’d had chance meetings over the years. We met once when we both put on weight and found each quietly unattractive. The next time we met up we’d both lost weight and he made his desire quite clear. We didn’t meet for years after that and I was surprised. I’d put some weight back on but he had completely changed, his dress, his hair. I thought he looked ridiculous. In fact he even smelt, which shocked me. That awful wet smell, like clothes that had been forgotten in the washing machine. Otherwise, he hadn’t changed.

Tonight though? The bar was dark and I hadn’t really paid much attention. He didn’t smell though.

“Children?”

I laughed. “God no! You?”

“No, but…”

I cut him off. “But all your friends have had children.”

“Yes.” He looked puzzled.

“You told me last time we met.”

“Oh.”

“Funny, considering you said that we would have seven children.”

“I did?” He gave me a cheeky grin.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah.” I slid off the barstool. “I’m going to go.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

We said nothing as we wove through the crowd and outside into the cool air. We walked through the mostly empty street silently. I was glad. I didn’t want to hear about his conquests, his girlfriends, his travels, his bad habits. When we made it to the intersection, I turned the corner and he stayed beside me. After a few doors, I stopped. “My stop is just up there.” I looked up the hill and then looked at him as if to say goodbye.

He pressed me against the wall, leant down and kissed me. I thought it would come flooding back, but it didn’t. He’d always been a good kisser I recalled as the bricks dug into my bare back. He slid my hem up, holding one side of my long dress at the top of my thigh, his finger imprinting themselves on my flesh.

Now was the time to make the right decision. Now was the time to say no. I promised I would not find myself here ever again. We’d had our chance long ago and he’d fucked it up good and royal. I knew this. So how could I be here? How could I be opening my mouth and pooling between my legs? 

I cursed my memories.

My eyes were closed and I could feel myself being pulled under.

A car went past and some men cheered out the window.

He stopped and let go, my dress falling swiftly back down my leg.

Without a word I walked up the hill, and found him still beside me. I walked into the lobby and into the elevator. Still he followed, and still I didn’t stop him.

When we reached my door, I thought I would hesitate, but I didn’t. I entered the keycard and pulled the handle down when I heard it unlock.

I didn’t even put the card in the slot to turn on the electricity, instead dropping it on the floor with my clutch and we grabbed at each other in the dark. He ran his lips along my throat as he pulled me to him, rubbing his erection against me. I pushed him back and grabbed at his shirt, wanting to slap him, but instead ripped the buttons off as he gasped. 

He grabbed my wrist painfully and dragged me over to the bed, shoving me down, and instantly shedding the rest of his clothes. Before I could scramble up, he’d pulled me across his lap and lifted up my dress, spanking my arse. I was taken completely by surprise, and it took a moment before the pain registered. I tried to get off his lap but he held me tight.

It hurt.

I grunted, trying not to scream. My vision blurred. The pain that I’d anchored down in my depths broke free. I desperately wanted him to mean nothing to me and for a moment I almost believed it. Afterall, it was only the memories that I was addicted to. The last time I saw him, the thought of fucking him repulsed me. When I slid my fingers deep inside and felt the build of my raging orgasm like a howling storm inside me, the flashes of what we had done, before it all went bad would make me come in a way I couldn’t replicate doing anything else, and leave me so weak I couldn’t move. Soaked, tear-stained, and carved wide open.

I started to sob as he continued to belt my backside. The more I tried to stop, the worse I cried. I didn’t want to be doing this, I didn’t want to be here. I was scared. Scared that I’d finally cracked and lost my mind.

I was afraid.

I didn’t want new memories with him.

I didn’t want to them to sully my old worn and frayed ones, that I clung to so desperately, trying to stop them from fading as each year passed.

I couldn’t stop choking on my sobs. The pain on the outside, now matched the pain on the inside and somehow I felt whole.

“Shh, shh.” I didn’t notice that he’d pulled me up onto his lap and cuddled me like a small child.

I hiccuped as he brushed the hair away from my face. I turned my head. I didn’t want his sympathy. I tried to get off his lap but he held me tightly and suddenly put his hand between my legs.

I was mortified.

I was so wet. I sensed his smile in the dark. Shoving him, I got off his lap.

“Fuck you.”

He didn’t move. “I’ve done that before.” He said referring to the spanking, half matter of fact, half trying to remember.

“Don’t.” I could feel my arse burning painfully. I felt angry. “Just go back to one of your cheap drug fucked whores or some poor bitch that doesn’t know you.” I paused. “I’m surprised your cock hasn’t dropped off yet.” I muttered.

He laughed.

I felt embarrassed. I sounded jealous.

For a few moments he talked. Talked about the music he still listened to. I knew what he was asking me, and right then I hated him for it. It was cheap. I felt cheap. Between me and the next poor woman, how many of those same words had he shared with them. They were recycled, reused.

I tried to cling to my miniscule diamond of reasoning. That despite all that had happened, some of those words, were indeed mine. They belonged to me and me alone, all inclusive of the weight of the pain they carried. The pain I revelled in. 

I was broken.

“I did love you.” He sounded as though he was trying to reason with me.

“Is that what they call it?” I laughed bitterly and shook my head. “Let’s not go over old ground.”

For a moment I thought, I’d just let him watch me fuck myself, but knowing him, he wouldn’t be able to help himself. That plus, he’d probably tell his friends. He had a tendancy of being unable to keep some things to himself, and I cringed realising how that would sound.

No, if he was going to talk about me, I’d give him something to talk about.

I felt around on the keycard on the floor, and put it in the slot. Turning on the bathroom light, I inspected my face and was thankful it wasn’t too bad despite my tears. Nothing that a bit of make up couldn’t fix.

He watched me carefully.

I fixed myself up, grabbed my clutch and walked out the door. I had made it down the hill when he came running up behind me.

“Where are you going?”

I didn’t answer as I walked back to the bar. Once inside, he was surrounded by some men I didn’t recognise. New friends presumably. I looked each one of them over and fleetingly fantasised about fucking one of them, but even that felt low for me.

I looked around the room and saw him. Tall, dark haired, reasonably attractive, enough to challenge or bruise his ego. I watched him for a few minutes and he appeared unattached.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” The dark haired man gave me the once over, the approval obvious in his eyes. He was also a little drunk. I tried not to roll mine. Men could be so predictable sometimes.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

He looked surprised. “Ah, yeah, sure, why not.”

I gave him my most attractive smile. “What about a couple?” I hooked my arm around his and ordered a few shots, and a couple of strong drinks. We made small talk as we drank by the bar, all the while I could feel his eyes burning into my back as I laughed and flirted with the man.

After a little while, I coaxed the man outside and we snuck around behind the bar and into the alley. I hoisted myself onto a brick retaining wall, which seemed to be just the right height. It was dark and we were shadowed by the overgrown foliage. I let him kiss me. I responded, but he was awkward, mechanical, disappointing. I rested my chin on his shoulder, ran my hand over his crotch and squeezed. He fumbled around for several moments with a condom before putting his cock between my legs and pausing. I was grateful that I was already wet, because this would not have done it for me in the least. He was attractive enough, but the kissing was dismal.

I looked out into the dark. I knew he was there.

The dark haired man slid between my legs and I gasped. I couldn’t complain, what he lacked in oral skills, he surely made up for it in girth and I was a little surprised.

“Fuck me.” I commanded him and let him go at it as he rocked me, legs spread, hanging over the brick wall.

I could’ve put on a show. I could’ve moaned and groaned, but instead I pursed my lips.

I didn’t know how much time had passed but I felt myself close to coming and I looked back out into the darkness. He’d actually moved to where I could make him out in what little dim light there was and I couldn’t help myself.

I laughed. “And to think I was going to fuck my ex tonight.” I narrowed my eyes and looked at him.

He stepped closer and the sudden fear cloaked me in hail of goosebumps and flashes of heat as my heart threatened to punch a hole out of my chest. I could feel the anger radiating from him, and like a trigger I came, staring straight into his eyes, recognising the pain.

I didn’t realise the dark haired man had come and was grateful he hadn’t seen the angry man behind him. I knew how strange it would probably seem and I gently pushed him from me. “Thanks.” I edged myself off the wall, realising how sore my arse was. I gave him a gentle kiss, trying not to chuckle at his bewildered face and walked out of the alley.

He was incensed as he stood on the street and watched me. I steered well clear of him as I crossed the road.

At least it wasn’t one of his friends, but in that moment, I was worse that he was. 

But, it still wasn’t enough.

I stopped and turned, seeing him still on the street, I blew him a kiss and walked away.

This was posted 30 Sep 10 at 10.47am.