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Posts Tagged ‘kinky sex’

  1. After-hours Examination

    July 28, 2012 by Nikki Blue

    The office was finally quiet as I sat cross-legged on the patient chair in the surgical suite, the stack of charts from the day’s surgeries piled on my lap. I was busy transferring notes to the third chart when I noticed him leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest. He’d changed out of his scrubs and was impeccably dressed in black pants and a white button down shirt.

    “You know, this would go a lot faster if you’d help me.”

    “You mean the sooner we get it done, the sooner we can play doctor?”

    I laughed. “Maybe.”

    Grabbing the charts from my lap, he tossed them onto the counter without taking his eyes off of me. He lowered the chair until I lay flat on my back and kissed me deeply, holding my lip between his teeth as he pulled away.

    “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

    “Anything else?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

    He stripped me of my clothes and held my wrists together in one hand as he undid his belt with the other. Knowing what was coming next, I couldn’t help but smile as he pulled the strap from his waist and wrapped it tightly around my wrists. He moved my arms above my head and I winced as the leather pinched my skin when he secured me to the headrest above.

    His gaze intensified as he trailed his fingertips down my naked body as if he was memorizing a road map. He paused when he reached my knees and I wondered where his skilled fingers would graze me next. His touch was gentle but deliberate as he spread my legs, never breaking contact with my skin. And when he placed his hand on my swollen folds and pushed his middle finger deep inside, I thought I would come undone.

    “You will not move. Understood?”

    “Yes,” I replied, barely more than an unsteady whisper.

    A flush blossomed across my body and a thin veil of sweat formed on my skin. Despite the heat, my teeth began to chatter as my will began to crumble. I held my breath, resisting the need to open my legs wider and rock my hips against the palm of his hand. I trembled uncontrollably as I battled for control of my body. It became clear I was going to lose.

    “Please.”

    Brushing my cheek with his fingers, he seemed to take pleasure in my struggle. He’d pushed me until he had me exactly where he wanted me; on the edge begging for release.

    He smiled. “Now.”

    Category Flash Fiction | Tags: ,, | 3 Comments

  2. Late Nights

    July 26, 2012 by Heather Cole

    I stared through the glass wall of the office at the harbor below, the lights from the tourist cruises dotting the dark water like fireflies. The usual clatter from the company was silenced and the floor deserted. I clutched a pile of file folders to my chest as a reminder of why I was in his office. The lamp on the desk beside me offered a small pool of light against the bulky shapes of office furniture and bookshelves. I heard the door shut behind me with a soft click and then caught a whiff of cologne. My skin twitched when Jai touched me, seconds before I heard his voice in my ear.

    “Turn around,” he said with only a trace of an accent.

    Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and I grinned at the dark horizon. “Make me.”

    He growled something incoherent and with one hand released the clip that held my chignon in place. His fingers scraped against my scalp as he grabbed a handful of my hair while his other hand slowly wandered down my ribcage to my waist. His fingers dug into my side as he pulled me against him, and I could feel his erection pressed against me through the fabric of my pencil skirt.

    “Are you saying that you don’t want to look at me? I’m amenable to that.”

    Jai pushed me towards the desk, and I stumbled in my heels, dropping the files to the floor so I could catch my balance. I heard the metallic clink of a belt being loosened and then a zipper sliding on its metal teeth. My heartbeat ratcheted up with anticipation.

    I attempted to turn around then but he caught me with a fistful of hair. Slowly, inextricably, he pulled me to the desk, allowing me enough of an angle so that I could see his grin and the charcoal pinstripe of his designer suit with my peripheral vision. My palms were slick with sweat against the smooth wood, the buttons of my blouse poking into my sternum. My eyes fluttered shut when I felt his palm brush my thigh.

    “Tell me,” he demanded.

    I bit my lip and squirmed until my ass grazed his pants. He laughed and shifted his grip to the back of my neck. I had exactly three seconds to wonder what he was planning.

    The sting of his hand against my ass stole my breath, but I welcomed the pain.

    “Tell me.”

    He yanked my skirt up and swung again. The force of his palm against my flesh inched my body along the desk.

    “Say it.”

    Another hit.

    My panties were drenched, the warmth and pain of his hands driving my need. Drawing a deep breath through my nose, I shook my head and clamped my lips tight. I wanted to relish the power of withholding as long as possible. I waited for another blow but none was forthcoming. Instead he pulled down my underwear, his long fingers reaching for my swollen clit.

    “You know what I can do to you,” he murmured, “what we can do together. Two words and you can have it all.”

    His clever fingers stroked closer to the lips of my vagina.

    “Say it or I leave you here.”

    He held me like a butterfly pinned to a mat. In that critical moment of overwhelming desire and need, I craved both the reward and the pain. In the end, though, I always gave him what he wanted.

    “I’m yours,” I whispered.

    He laughed again, because he had never doubted it.

    Category Flash Fiction | Tags: ,, | 8 Comments

  3. What I Didn’t Know Was A Lot

    February 13, 2012 by Heather Cole

    When did I realize that I truly was a masochist? The day I spanked myself thirty times with a thick wooden spoon, of course. I was alone with M on the phone, his voice at its smoothest and most polite. The tone that told me my ass was grass. Or in this case, black and blue. I was bent over the back of a plush chair, my skirt bunched around my waist. The wooden spoon was the biggest size they sold at Williams-Sonoma and I had originally purchased it to stir giant pitchers of sweet tea at family picnics. Until that exact moment, I had no idea it would be an instrument of torture on my pale skin. I also didn’t know that I would be inflicting the strikes myself per the instructions of the dominant voice on the phone. This, my darlings, was the beginning of my relationship with M. At one point not so very long ago, he was my eDom. A man whom I had never met in person yet trusted with my body and soul.

    True to the nature of online relationships, our courtship was a lightning strike. He singled me out of a group tweet with Nikki as we bantered back and forth about our kids. Watching M and Nikki tweet back and forth was like watching a knife fight. They fought dirty, and after a few half-hearted thrusts, I retired to the sidelines to watch them duel. When M sent me a direct message, I couldn’t fathom his intention. He told me I’d make a good submissive, and I almost spewed coffee all over my laptop. My response was, “I don’t think I’d make a good sub. I’m usually the aggressor.”

    As I read back over the emails we traded, M came across detached and in control. I called him by his first name, and I was bratty. Brattier than I am today, if you can believe that. I told him that he’d have to “earn” the right to the title Master, and to my surprise he agreed. He explained that my submission to him was a gift and that it was his intention to earn my respect and the right to be called Master. We didn’t discuss “ownership” and he didn’t throw around a lot of kinky terminology. We eased into it together, it seems, in a way that I can only describe as organic.

    What amazed me about that first conversation was that once I accepted my submissiveness, I assumed there would be pain as well. I slipped into the role as if it were an old coat, well-used and comfortable. It was like finding the key to a mysterious lock I had been carrying around for years. Suddenly, everything seemed to fit. I wrote, “have you ever had a moment where you hear something and it’s exactly what you’ve been waiting to hear, but you never knew it? Reading your last message I just had one of those aha! moments.

    “So now I’m a quivering mass of…everything…”

    eDoms conduct their submissives and play partner relationships electronically, and it’s the perfect way to learn the ins and outs (pun completely intended) of a potential partner. M and I were a couple that needed the next physical step to real life. We knew from the start that we would have to meet. I ached to feel his hands on me, his breath in my ear as he commanded me to my knees and punished my body. Email only took me so far. Even now I need to taste, touch and fuck him to be completely satisfied. However, our online Master/slave interactions allowed us the time to explore each other in a completely safe manner.

    We traded pictures of what we liked and wrote erotic scenarios back and forth, but the big test came when M told me to fetch the wooden spoon. At one point I seemed to watch myself from an outside perspective and had the thought, “what the holy fuck am I doing?” The slave in me responded with certainty that M knew what he was doing, and that he was steering us in the direction that we both needed. Sometimes I’m a helluva better slave than independent woman, but don’t quote me on that. I don’t want M thinking I’m too pliable.

    I feel extremely fortunate that my online relationship with M was able to evolve into something dynamic and fulfilling in our real lives. But without that foundation to our relationship, I don’t think we’d be half as amazing as we are together. I know M and trust him in a way that may have been impossible if we began in person. There are as many versions of kink as there are stars in the sky, and I realize that the way we developed wouldn’t work for everyone. I’m grateful, though. Grateful to the bottom of my greedy, bratty, little slave heart.

    Category BDSM, Heather, Kinky Sex | Tags: ,,,, | 1 Comment