Time after Time

Time after Time

by Kitt Wolf

I always notice my hands first. I’ll be clacking away on my computer when I notice the faint bluish tinge marring the normally creamy pink skin. The vein pushes its way to the surface a few days later and I find myself constantly rubbing at it, willing it to fade away. Panic gnaws at me and I know it’s once again time to make the decision between life or death. I have always chosen life so far. Nothing has made me think otherwise. When the choice is made, I know to start preparing.

Most of the things I need for the potion are easy to find: bits from the kitchen, my garden, the pond, and a lock of my hair. The main ingredient is a bit of challenge and something that weighs on my soul to collect. But I’ve seen what happens if the ritual isn’t completed. Sisters I have loved chose not to continue their practice. They fell deeply in love and allowed themselves to fade into stories that children tell to scare each other around the campfire. Witches do not go out from this life gracefully. If I decide to reverse the hands of time, I must become single once again and hunt for a new mate.

It’s not that I don’t love my husband. I do. I have for thirty years, but the passion that once fueled our partnership has wilted to fondness. I still swoon from his smile and adore the way that he looks at me in the morning, but raw heat gave way to comfort years ago. It felt like we could go on forever that way. Comfortable. At one time, I could see myself fading with him, but lately life has become quite dull. Then that damn blue vein decided to rear its ugly head and I felt pressure to make a choice. After the vein I know that sagging skin, spots, aches, grey hair in places that seem unspeakable, and pain will soon follow. Pain is not something I enjoy, well, outside of the bedroom. It’s lovely to be spanked, but it’s ridiculous to feel pain when I stand up from a chair. I’m not ready to age and wither and so I will go hunting for the final ingredient to reclaim my youth.

I need the full moon to slip on a guise to catch my prey. My husband usually passes out in his armchair by 8:00 while watching reruns of old game shows so it’s easy to slip out of the house on the evenings when the world is drenched in that milky magical light. The caressing light that spills from the sky soaks into my skin and revives me. Temporarily, my curves become defined, my hair becomes sleek and black, and that damned blue vein vanishes. I feel radiant. The first opportunities for a full moons I make sparse connections. I bed a few hapless men, but none of them feel right. They are all too full of themselves and not aware of the world. If I am to choose life, I must feel that connection and zing. Otherwise, the potion will be wasted.

I creep back home in the wee early morning hours reeking of men and stale cigarettes. My husband never notices. He carries on about his day and completes our rituals of greeting, comings and goings. We have the odd night of boring marital sex. He starts on top, wiggles his hips, flips me over and finishes with a grunt before falling into a deep sleep. I stare at the ceiling for hours wanting more and feeling the pull of the hunt.

This month, I leave my home for the full moon weekend under the guise of visiting a luxury spa. However, instead of being wrapped in mud and getting my nails done, I’m wrapping myself in other men’s arms and dragging my nails down their backs.

I check into my room and place a tall pink candle on the vanity. I encircle it in rose petals and arrange my crystals to open my mind to love. I strike a match and the flame greedily licks the wick. The dancing flames draw my gaze and focus my intention. A handsome face appears in the smoke and I close my eyes and deeply inhale. The image is faint but enough. I blow out the flame and prepare to hunt.

A few hours later, I’m sitting in the hotel bar wrapped in a tiny white dress that shows off my best assets. My tits peep over the top of the sweetheart neckline and delicate garters encircle my thighs with straps that disappear under my perilous hemline. Anyone who draws near would notice the heady sweet aroma of amber that I dabbed along my neck as I finished pulling my hair into a top knot.

I see the man from my vision enter the bar. He’s dreamy. His eyes crinkle when he smiles and his teeth practically chime with perfection. He’s with a group of men, but it will be easy enough to capture his attention. It looks like a business function. I chat with men at the bar but keep the undercurrent of attention on him. Finally, he walks over to order a drink. I drop my compact and the clatter makes him startle and look directly at me. I see him drink in all that I have put on display including the worried look about my mirror, a damsel in distress.

He picks the compact up from the floor and looks dismayed that the shiny surface has cracked. He makes a joke about seven years of bad luck and offers to buy me a drink. His hand touches mine and I give in to the pull of fate. We dance, drink, talk, and flirt. He’s charming and marvelous however my thoughts are laser focused on getting this man to bed.

Finally, we are stumbling to the elevator laughing. I press the button for my floor and at last, we are alone. I back him into the corner and kiss him hungrily. His lips feed the electric power building within me. I stroke his balls through his pants and he moans. They feel heavy. Perhaps, it’s been awhile since they have been emptied. His strong hands roam my body and squeezes my favorite soft spots. The doors open and we kiss while we walk towards my room. I fumble with the key card as he bites my neck while pressing his hard cock against my ass in front of the door. I feel my pussy spasm and I draw in a short breath. The light turns green and we quickly enter my room.

I drag him to the bed and we tumble with him on top. I snake my legs around him so that I can feel his cock strain against the thin layers of fabric between us. My pussy grinds against him until the front of his pants darkens from the wet of my want. I push him back so I can shimmy out of my panties, but leave my stockings and heels on. He shoves my dress down to reveal the puckered peaks of my round tits. He sucks hungrily and makes me writhe. He needs to take off his fucking pants so I can have that cock. I push him back harder this time and roll onto my belly. I frantically undo his belt and strip off his pants and finally his cock springs from his boxers. A pearl of creamy goodness teases me and I quickly dispatch it with a lick. I look to him for permission and he offers a nod before I take him deep in my throat. This is a cock that needs proper worship. My tongue drags along his shaft and I explore his thick ridge with sloppy sucks. I’m rewarded with another jolt of liquid. I wrap my fingers around his cock and lap in circles at his balls. They are too big to fit in my mouth, but I try anyway. I leave red lip prints in my wake marking my territory. His hand closes over mine and helps me find a rhythm as my mouth explores. My pussy drips in anticipation. I open my mouth to take him in my throat again. I like it rough. I move his hand to hold my hair and grab his ass as permission to go harder. He does not disappoint. With a guttural growl, he fucks my pretty face until my eyes are watering and I need to break the connection to breathe.

I gasp for a moment and then pull him down for a kiss. I hope he can taste himself on my lips. I wrap my legs around him again and dig the points of my heels into his calves. Just enough to make him feel it. I’m ready to take what I need.

He enters me swiftly and I feel myself stretch to accommodate his girth. I buck my hips up to milk his cock with slick strokes. A low growl rumbles from my lips, and I bite his shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. He grabs my throat to pin me to the bed and slams his hips into me. I feel the power building within me, and I unleash a yowl while flipping him on his back. His face registers surprise at my sudden display of strength. I roll my hips to engulf his cock and rock back in forth with frantic rhythm. He takes one of my tits in his mouth, gentle at first, but then latches on like a wolf. I feel the pressure of his teeth and explode in orgasm. My pussy spasms as every cell in my body is lit up with pleasure. I keep fucking him as waves wash over over and I no longer feel anything, but release. I collapse, gasping, against his shoulder as he grabs my ass and pumps me full. I take it all.

I kiss him gently one more time before putting him to sleep. I touch his forehead and his face goes slack. I probably should have asked his name, but there will be time for that tomorrow. I adjust my dress and quickly head home.

Goosebumps pock my arms as I tiptoe into the dark sleeping house. The door clicks softly closed as I slip off my heels and pick my way across the chilly slate floor. I peel off my dress and drop it in a heap in the corner of my bedroom before sitting on my bed to remove the rest of my clothes. I retrieve the vial from my nightstand and take a long drink. My throat registers a bit of soreness from the thick cock that it accommodated just hours before. I feel the tingle begin to grow within my body.

My husband groans and rolls over in bed as I slide in next to him. His heat feels good against my naked skin, and he snakes a hand around my waist, pulling me into his embrace.

I turn and press my lips to his. He murmurs in his sleep. I press my naked body to his and sling a leg over his hip. The telltale sign of my marital indiscretion seeps from my swollen slit. I rub against him until he is taut with promise. I gently push him onto his back and straddle his sleeping form. His cock becomes coated in my lover’s cum as the transformation begins. I move my hips in slow circles to savor him one last time. I lean down for our last kiss and begin to drink his memories away. Painless for him but electric shivers course through my body as I relieve all of our moments together. I keep my lips firmly on his as his body gives me everything. I ride him slowly, squeezing his thick cock as I coax him to cum. It’s slow and sweet when he finally spills into me. My skin glows and I am renewed once more. When he wakes, our life together will be erased from his memory and any trace of me will be expunged from his life. I leave the house to steal back to my lover’s bed at the hotel. Perhaps a long life with this one will make me choose a different path when time begins to show on me once more.

This witchy prompt was from #FantasySmutFriday. Click below for more writers and more prompts from the ever imaginative Charlton Tod.

Lame Ghost Story

Lame Ghost Story

I was working on some writing exercises and came across this one which asked the writer to use a gym, knitting needles, a rose, and a book of poetry to write a spooky story. Here is my crack at it.

The air is stale and smells faintly of sweat and popcorn. I wrinkle my nose and check my own pits. Freshness established. I walk into the empty gym. I’m guessing my phone fell somewhere on the bleachers, lost in the final big wave of cheering. What a night. We crushed Spencer County and I met a girl. I should hustle to get back to the dance in the cafeteria. I can’t believe that I’m an idiot who lost his phone. I also can’t believe that Cynthia Stephens said yes to a dance with me. My head spins thinking about holding her in my arms. I promised her that I would be right back. She looked really annoyed that I had to leave, but my mom would kill me if I lost my phone. I can’t believe I never noticed Cynthia at school until tonight. Cynthia! I yell her name into the empty room, and my voice bounces off the walls. I blush and look around. Reputation solid.

The cavernous gym is dark save one glimmer of light coming from the bleachers. Must be some sort of emergency lighting. I try to flip on the overhead lights, but the switch only sputters a few sparks.  Woo hoo public school.  The dark clings to me and the air feels cooler than it did with a hundred screaming fans.  I wish I had my coat.  My sneakers squeak as I move towards the only source of light in the room.  

My foot scuffs against something soft at half court.  I bend down to examine it.  It’s a rose.  Probably left over from homecoming court, I thought. Cynthia.  She  looked beautiful in her long red dress as she stood at the edge of the bleachers watching the end of the game.  I begin to hum to myself as joy again bubbles up at the thought of being close to her. I clutch the rose as I move closer to the illumination.  I hear something now.  It’s like a clicking sound.  Familiar, yet strange to hear in a gym. 

Finally, I can peer under the bleachers. I’m startled by a bent figure sitting in a rocking chair. Her hands move deftly as they add to an ever growing knitted scarf. It coils around her feet like a python. She looks at me, and I feel safe. It’s just someone’s grandma knitting while waiting for the dance to end. It feels good to be in the light.

“You brought me a flower?  How nice.  Such a nice young man. Place it on the table and come closer.”

I shrug and nod. Her voice is so comforting. It makes me think of working in the kitchen and cooking with my grandma. I place the flower on the little table holding the lamp. There is a faded book of poetry that looks well loved. The pages are yellowed and most are dog eared. I’m compelled to pick it up.

“Oh.  Will you read to me?  My old eyes would appreciate that very much.  Such sweet words.  Makes me feel young again.  Read from page twelve please.” 

I flip to the page and begin to read.  

“I promise to love you always.  I promise to never leave.  I promise that we will be together forever.”  

“Such a sweet promise. Boys need to keep their promises.  I’ve waited such a long time for you to come back for our dance.” 

Confusion marks my brow as I look up to the old woman. She’s left her chair and the tattered rags she’s wearing are scarlet red. The same shade as Cynthia’s gown. I will my feet to move, but she is faster than shadows. I look into the gaping sockets where her eyes should be and feel her bony grip pulling me in for an embrace. My scream is cut off by the constricting scarf that is now wound tightly around my neck. I’m glad my pits were fresh.

Where the Fuck are my Glasses?

Where the Fuck are my Glasses?

The alarm blared on my nightstand and I swatted my phone to silence the intrusion on my dreams.

“Another day, another dollar,” I muttered as I opened my eyes a slit. My room was still dark and the rhythmic whir of the ceiling fan was the only sound. The air had grown chilly overnight and the thin cotton of my nightgown felt inadequate. Snuggling deeper into the blankets felt delicious as I willed myself to warm up a little. My legs felt silky as they rubbed together. Waxing really paid off. I made a mental note to do it again in a few weeks as I enjoyed the warmth brought on by the friction of soft skin on skin. I peeped a toe out from under my quilt to check to see if the room felt warmer and the clammy grip of morning make it scamper back to safety.

My desk, spreadsheets, and files beckoned me from the business corner in my brain. Spreadsheets. Mmmmm. The rest of my brain had other thoughts.

“Spread them wider or I will have to get the bar to teach you how to stand again,” Thomas had barked at me. The sting of the crop made me adjust position and slip deeper under his spell. He was simply marvelous.

I wiggled my butt to test for any latent soreness. Nope. Arnica and had aspirin cleared up any trace of my weekend romp.

My phone chirped from the nightstand and I brought it close to my face to read the message. I had to squint a little, but if I held my tongue just right, I could make out the words. Stupid poor eyesight. Thanks for the bad genes, Mom.

Mmmm. Thomas. The text just said:

Cold, beautiful?

Two little words caused shock waves to reverberate through my body. I quickly texted back:

Want to warm me up?

Can’t. Already at work.

I sighed. Of course he was. I imagined him leaning back in his chair with his feet propped on his desk. I wanted to straddle him and smother his handsome face with my boobs. Office sex was a fantasy of mine. I wondered if his spinning chair would support us both. I wanted to leave his lap streaked with kitten cream and his face bedecked with lipstick kisses. I wanted to be bent over his desk and spanked. So yummy.

Send pics.

I choked on laughter. I looked like hell and I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet. My curls were in a snarl that poofed off the top of my head and my face felt oily from sleep. But. My tits still looked good all perked up from the cold room. I raised my phone and hastily snapped a dimly lit picture. I hoped it was enough. The phone stayed silent for longer than I expected. I groaned and began to look for my glasses.

Reach in your nightstand and retrieve the clover clamps. Put them on those pert nipples, kitten.

Damn it. I hated those clamps. They were right where he said to look and I dangled them over my face. Beautiful. Delicate. But painful. I held my phone with one hand and opened a clamp with the other. With a deep breath, I pressed the record button. I whimpered as I grazed my aroused nip through my thin tank top. I rubbed my tits and then spilled them out of the top of my shirt. He would love that. It was going to hurt. I sucked in a breath and allowed the clamp to take hold. I quickly sent him the video. I needed to get the second clamp on. His response was immediate.

Good girl. Now show me the other.

Swooning and floaty, I gently attached the second clamp and sent him the video.

Mmmmmm. Beautiful. You can take them off when you find your glasses. Face time me, but don’t make a sound. I am working. I’ll be watching you, but I don’t want the whole office to know what my precious girl is doing.

Face Time him?! I quickly scuttled out of bed and blindly took a swoop at my hair and slicked on some lip gloss. I squinted at the mirror. Good enough. I guess. I can’t see a damn thing.

Waiting, kitten.

He hated to wait. Shit. I propped the phone up on my nightstand and quickly called him. His face filled my phone screen and my pussy pulsed. He always looked at me like I was a roast beef dinner and he was starving. But today he looked like a blob. His voice boomed in my quiet room.

“Spin for me, kitten.”

I did an awkward twirl and stuck my tongue out at him. My nipples ached, but his honeyed voice pushes thoughts of pain to the back of my brain.

“Strip, you bad little thing. I don’t have time for your sass. Let me see the clamps.”

My tits bobbed at the camera lens as the clamp chain slaps against my body. Owie. Wincing, I strip off my pajama pants and slide my tank top off over my hips. I dance around and wiggle for him a little bit. I hoped he was smiling.

“Remember to shhhhhhh. Where are you glasses, kitten? Show me.”

I begin to move around the room patting the carpet in the hopes to find my glasses. The chain swings and each time I move, my tits sway and pain zips through my body. I could hear him chuckle softly as he watched me move around the room. The pain reminded me that I was his kitten. He wanted a show. I arched my back and let the chain shimmy between my tits. I stood and positioned my butt in front of the camera and slid a wicked little finger along my slick slit. I turned and licked my finger clean and stood in front of the camera to show off my chained tits. The pain was coming in waves. I wouldn’t last much longer. I needed to find those glasses. Crawling again, I began to move through the pile of sex junk next to my bed that was left over from the weekend. Gloves, ears, toys, cock rings, all very good things. I slid a hand under the bed. Success! I perched them on my nose and looked at the camera so that I could finally see Thomas clearly.

His camera was tilted down to face his lap. The front of his pants was bulging and I could hear him talking to someone in the room. I suppressed a giggle and hungrily drank in the sight of his covered cock. The screen went black. Our connection was lost. I snapped a picture of me victorious in my glasses and clamps and sent it to him.

I then quickly removed the damn clover clamps with a shaky hand. Sometimes taking them off hurt more than putting them on. I massaged my boobs and headed for the shower. I turned on the water when my phone chirped again.

Such a very good girl. Meet me for lunch in my office. Wear a skirt.

Thank you, Charlton Tod for a another great prompt!

Snooze

Snooze

I need to put all of the kittens back in the box before the python comes back. I grab the ginger one and it squalls and fights me as I try to save it from certain disaster. The box is flimsy and hard to hold but I manage to snag the last baby cat and clutch it to my chest. I feel the snake looking at me. I hear it’s breathing and feel a shiver of dread crawl down my back. I turn and face the wide gaping maw of death and just as I succumb to darkness I hear a distant persistent bleat. It resonates over and over. It fills my head until the dreamworld vanishes.

Damn. It’s morning. I slide my gaze around the still dark room and see fuzzy shadows. I smack blindly at my phone until silence once again fills the room. Cold clings to my bare shoulders so I huddle down into my blankets. I stretch a toe outside of my comfortable nest to test the air again. Freezing. I steel myself for the inevitable. I must get to the shower. I breathe in and envision the deliciously warm water spilling over my body and do a silent count down to spring forth from my bed.

One. Mississippi Mississippi Mississippi

Two. I take a deep breath.

Three! I throw off the covers and instead of dashing to the bathroom my phone brings to chirp merrily. I fumble for it on my nightstand and hold it really close to my face so I can see the text. Squinting, I read:

You up?

I sigh and throw the phone as far as I can away from my bed. I bought an Otterbox for a reason.

Men. I lose my mojo to race to the shower and begin to think about my weekend forays with the opposite sex. Most men are exciting for fifteen minutes on average and then their dumbness or aloofness creeps back in leaving you bewildered by the initial attraction. Bunch of damn pythons.

I had several dates over the weekend, and they were nice. Not mind blowing. One wasn’t even really memorable, but in the moment, it felt nice. Mr. “You up?” was probably the best of all my dates. He at least knew his way around a clit and kissed with excellence. I hoped we will go out on another date soon. I did like him, mostly. He had a habit of tapping his fingers on the table which was distracting and he was obsessed with talking about his job. At one point, I wasn’t sure if he was interviewing me for a position or flirting with me.

He did have lovely hands and a gorgeous smile. I scowled. My damn pussy was betraying me. I felt the familiar gnaw of want begin to grow in my belly. I threw off the blankets to see if the cold would shock me back to reality but all it did was kiss my body into alertness and leave me with stiff nipples. I stroke the soft patch of hair between my thighs and finally give in.

I roll onto my belly and snag my trusty Doxy Die Cast 3 from the floor. It looks clean enough. This thing is the sex toy of champions. I place it in the sweet spot and let the engine purr. Ahhh. If only men could be this efficient. My mind wanders around memories of past cocks and lovers. Warm bliss begins to ebb and flow through my body as I rock in time to the alluring buzzing. My phone beeps just as I finally tip over into the delightful spasm of orgasm. A stupid smile on my face spreads across my face as I flip to my back.

I greedily slide fingers over my pussy and revel in the slick heat. My throbbing clit begs me for another round. I know this could go on all day and I must get to work even though my “office” is just in the next room. Invigorated but resigned I head for the shower. My glasses crunch under my foot. I set them on my face, pick up my phone and tap a reply.

Come over for lunch?

#WickedWednesday

#WickedWednesday

Prompt #434: Family Heirloom

Superstar

The water crept over her toes as she adjusted the tap. Anna eased her body into the tub, and the warmth lapped soothingly at her skin.

“Finally,” she muttered to the empty room. The busy evening melted into the rising bubbles and she began to tap her toes on the contrastingly cool faucet.

Anna hummed under her breath as she rewound her performance in her mind. She nailed the tricky choreography and the audience roared in appreciation. A pile of cash waited for her to count on the bed; mostly fives, but she saw a few Andrew Jackson’s peering up at her when she dumped her purse out. Fairly lucrative for doing what she loved.

Anna’s hair was still drawn up tight in the bun; a style her mother taught her how to create. It made for easy wig changes now, but it was also the signature of a well schooled ballerina. She remembers squalling as her mother knotted her hair high atop her head for yet another dance lesson. Anna hated the monotony of barre work, and craved the freedom to bound like a gazelle across the floor. The repetition and exercise built her now lean and lithe body, but her heart wasn’t in the classical trappings of that style of dance.

Anna was drawn to fast and sexy choreography, which she highlighted with her ability to whirl around a bar in next to nothing. She could also grab a dollar bill with her booty cheeks, a skill the ballet prudes never taught in dance school. She felt powerful when she was in the spotlight and commanded a room like no other woman on the stage. Men fell all over themselves to get her attention. She liked the control.

A muffled thump from the bedroom made her eyes snap open and broke her reverie.

“Someone is impatient tonight,” she sang out loud enough to be heard in the other room. The thumps ceased and she chuckled. He can wait, and he will be punished for shortening her tub time. She fiddled the tub drain open with her toes and rose out of the now lukewarm water. She wrapped herself in a huge fluffy towel and peered into the partially steamed mirror. Her lipstick needed touching up but she was otherwise refreshed by a quick swipe of powder. She tucked the dainty aged bobby-pin that ended in a jeweled star back into her bun.

“Momma’s little super star,” she laughed at the mirror. Her mother always said that the pin would bring her luck on the stage. Her mother had worn it during her years as a principal dancer. It was now Anna’s turn to live her dream and reach for her own kind of fame. The thrill of being the center of attention was no less even with an adoring audience of one. She slipped out of the towel and slid on a long black satin robe and cherry red stilettos. She considered his punishment. She chose a slender cane from her wall of tools and strode into the bedroom. Her grin lit up the room. Showtime.

Check out other writers and inspiration from #WickedWednesday!

#FantasySmutFridays: A Matter of Taste

#FantasySmutFridays: A Matter of Taste

I nibbled the end of my pen and gazed out the open window. A haze clung to the dewy grass. The world beyond my yard seemed out of focus. The crisp air coaxed goosebumps to rise on my bare thighs and I picked up my coffee cup, welcoming the warmth.

I doodled on the yellow legal pad as I sipped my morning muse trying to stitch together words and images to find a story. Something other people would like, something that might make them smile. I enjoyed the thought of readers peeking inside my brain and seeing the dirty nonsense that rolls through my head like ticker tape and recognizing a tawdry part of themselves. But nothing really excited me this morning.

My pen began to sputter ink and I scribbled it one last time in the hopes of revival but the well used tool had eked out its last line. I flipped it toward the trash can and heard it miss the mark and clatter to the floor. My feline army immediately went to investigate. They determined that there wasn’t a threat and then began their morning request for treats and food. I filled their bowls and gave both of them a scritch on the head before taking on a quest for a new pen.

I opened the first junk drawer and had to jiggle it a bit to settle the contents. I shoved through packs of crayons, Sharpies, spools of thread, a flashlight, batteries, junk mail, and the bits of life that don’t really fit anywhere but in this drawer. Finally, smooshed in the back of the drawer was another ink pen, but laying innocently next to it, was one of my leather collars. I pulled both things out of the drawer.

I loved this collar and remembered how it ended up downstairs. Sir had brought me downstairs for a saucer of milk. My leash was wound taut in his fist as he allowed me to raise and lower my head to lap up the drink. I spilled the creamy goodness on the floor and remembered the faint taste of floor polish as he made me clean my mess. That was a very good session and we ended up sweaty and tangled on the couch. Afterwards, he put up the leash and in my post-orgasmic stupor, I shoved the collar in the drawer before scampering up the stairs to plead my case for a round two.

I was alone this morning. I stuck my pen in my mouth as I fastened the collar around my throat. The bell merrily jingled as I shimmied my shoulders. I admired my reflection in the microwave door and decided that since the cats had morning treats then the Kitten needed a treat as well. I spat my pen towards my legal pad and pulled my saucer from the cupboard. It made my stomach twist in anticipation. I am a Kitten. I am a Kitten. I asked Alexa to play my theme song by Momus and began to wiggle dance to the loud music as I prepared my treat. I didn’t want the actual felines to put their noses in my drink so I set up on the kitchen island. I dragged over a chair so I could hop up on the counter.

I began to lap up the milk. Each flick of my tongue made a gush of delightful comfort trickle down my throat. My nipples grew pert beneath my thin white tank top and I lowered my shoulders to drink so that my tits would brush to cool granite. The carnal satisfaction of lapping and licking made warmth spread all over my body. I closed my eyes as I lapped to the rhythm of the happy music. This was way better than writing. My butt was bobbing. I am a Kitten. I am a Kitten. The familiar roaring ache of sexual need began to consume me. My tongue ravaged the innocent saucer until it was dry. The music abruptly stopped.

I startled and scrambled around. His deep voice rumbled across the room.

“Hi Kitten.”

Club Dark Fortune

Club Dark Fortune

 

Hushed whispers between the other female executives told me to join this club.  They promised it would push me outside of my comfort zone and give me the adventure I craved.  I rolled my eyes at their dramatics but completed the application.  The passcode arrived a month later.

I hurried to the non-descript front door and punched in the numbers sent to me on a keypad.  The door clicked open, and I was alone in a small lobby. I looked around for a clerk of some kind.  I knew that my appointment was for this evening and I wasn’t late.  I walked over to a small table pushed against a wall.  A little blue sign in a bowl of fortune cookies was the only indication that people were welcome in the otherwise dark and foreboding room.

The sign read:  Choose one.   Read more

#FantasySmutFriday

#FantasySmutFriday

mask

Good Kitten

Each sting on my skin tethered me to this world keeping the black void just out of reach.  Heat flooded my ass as his voice cut into my flickering consciousness.

“Twenty more. Count for me, kitten.  Twenty more.  Ready?”

I felt my head bob in agreement as if an invisible puppetmaster released the tension on my neck.

“Are you sure, kitten?”

Twenty.  I could do twenty.  Air filled my lungs. I allowed my body to relax, and I closed my eyes.  I didn’t have to think.  I simply had to feel.

“Yes.  Ready.”

The whoosh of the belt came quickly and I yelped, “One.”

I breathed numbers in the off beats as he found his mark. My body took each stroke and absorbed the sting as my yelps increased in volume.

“Eight.  Nine. Ten…ughn!”

My voice wobbled, and he paused.  I felt his hand rub circles on my ass as he allowed me a brief intermission.  Errant fingers trace the wetness of my slit, and I mewled in wanting as felt his hard cock bump against the back of my thigh.  Owned. The word flashed through my mind as I let go of the last piece of human thought before becoming his pet. The sting of the belt began again.   Soon the spoken numbers jumbled into guttural mewing and his voice began to replace mine.  Twenty.   The belt clattered to the floor, he wrapped my trembling body in his embrace and tipped my head back for a kiss.  My inner fire swelled into animal wanting.  He pulled me back into position by my leash, and the restriction of the collar made me pant for a good breath. He grinned at me like a wolf baring his teeth to the rabbit.  When he was satisfied with my posture, he stroked my back while easing the pressure on my throat. I purred and arched low so that I was open to him.  Thick fingers filled my ache then he allowed me to lick my wetness with dainty tongue flicks.

“Meow?”

“Mmmmm there’s my kitten.”

I felt him kneel on the bed behind me.

He grabbed my tender ass and dug his fingers into the crimson flesh before sinking balls deep into me.  The pain blinded me, but the forceful strokes of his cock in my kitty cunt made me yowl for more.  He pumped me hard until my thighs were slick.  The headboard banged against the wall in rhythm, and our wedding photo was knocked askew.  He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back.  I yowled as my body spasmed in waves of orgasm forcing me to buck wildly against his cock.  I felt him swell and flood my pussy as he howled in the release.  He pulsed and twitched inside me.  His body went slack and fell next to me.  He roughly pulled me to him, and I felt his heart pound against my back.

“Good kitten,” he whispered before giving the ribbon holding my mask in place a tug.  I watched the lacy silhouette of a kitten float to the floor through sleepy eyes as I curled against my love.

“Mew.”

 

 

 

 

Morning After

Morning After

kitt

 

The morning light woke Katy with cozy warmth.  She stretched her long bare legs as her eyes focused.  Staring at her was a poster on the ceiling of a half-clad woman draped on a motorcycle. Nice. She glanced around the rest of the apartment and noted mismatched worn furniture, stacks of pizza boxes in the corner and a pair of muddy boots by the door.  She cursed and realized that once again she did not end up in her own apartment after a night on the town. This was definitely a bachelor residence complete with black leather furniture and a huge ass flat screen TV filling the wall across from the bed.   She tried to suppress a laugh, but the giggle escaped causing the sleeping mountain of a man beside her to stir. He threw a beefy arm over her bare midriff and pulled her closer. He was indeed her type with broad shoulders, calloused hands, and chiseled features.  She was sure he was a trucker, construction worker, or firefighter of some sort.

“Hey you,” Katy murmured into his ear as she desperately tried to remember his name, “I need to get going.”  The man stirred again and slid his hand up to her breast. Katy savored the zing she felt in her pussy as his rough hand connected to her pert nipple.  

She squeezed her thighs together to quiet the beginning of yearning and momentarily allowed herself a small sigh of pleasure.  Her gentle noise made him open his eyes, and he snuggled his thick dick against her bare bottom. Her body buzzed with wanting. She closed her eyes and sunk back into his embrace.  Her first appointment was in the late afternoon, but she liked her one night stands fast and forgettable. She could barely remember meeting this man last night, but her body reminded her that she greatly enjoyed his touch.  

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered.  Katy turned to kiss him but wrinkled her nose at the scent of his beer tainted morning breath.  That got her moving. She gave him a quick peck and unwound herself from his body although the feel of a stirring cock was very tempting.  

This part of the morning-after always jogged her memory of the previous evening’s events. It was like a treasure hunt. Katy thought for a moment about what was wearing last night.  Her little red dress was easy to spot and she picked it up from the floor near the bathroom. She remembered that the reason that they ended up at his place was that she needed to pee and he lived above the bar.  The three jumbo margaritas from the night before made her memory fuzzy, but the night was slowly coming back to her.  She remembered his laugh. He had a rich and glorious laugh that filled Katy with warmth. She loved a good sense of humor and ending up in his bed was a good indication that she enjoyed the company of that man who watching her with hungry eyes. Their eyes met and he smiled.

She went back to work on searching for her stuff.  Her stockings were draped over a ceiling fan that was spinning lazily in the living area.  She vaguely remembered slingshotting them up there as they were rolling around on the couch to see if they could fly.  She was such a dork.

“Ummm, do you know where my bra is?” Katy called to the man in bed.  He grinned and gestured towards the refrigerator. She opened the fridge and noted that the gallon of milk was sporting her favorite red lacy bra. She knew that she probably thought that was very funny to dress the milk in the middle of foreplay, but now it just made her nipples harden as she hastily clasped the thoroughly chilled garment to her body.

The man on the bed burst out laughing.  “That was definitely a new one for me,” he called, “You put on one hell of a puppet show.”  Katy felt her face redden. She was extremely playful, but her partners often didn’t know what to do with her antics.  She was so glad that he was laughing and suddenly remembered where she put her panties.

She opened the freezer and saw a peep of red.  Luxurious silk and lace, frozen solid. Katy’s shoulders slumped.  Yep. She was a super dork.

His lips were inches from her ear as he chuckled, “I told you that was a bad idea.  You lost our game and the price was frozen underwear. We were playing Rock, Paper, Scissors.  You ALWAYS did scissors so it was pretty easy to win. Please come back to bed?”

His arm reached around her to close the freezer door.  Her body responded immediately with warmth and wetness. Her fingers gripped the counter tightly to prevent herself from sinking back against his chest and begging for his touch.   

Katy loved men.  She loved sex without connection or a relationship.  She liked being free to do as she pleased and only went to bed with a man when she couldn’t satisfy herself alone.  She was usually gone before her man-candy even woke up, but the latest conquest was difficult to leave.

He kissed her neck lightly and this made her sigh.  The lure of his deliciousness broke her resolve and she allowed herself to be led towards the bed.

She dropped her things on the floor as his hands circled her waist to pull her on top of him.  He grinned at her while tracing a finger over the lips. She nipped his thumb and he slid his hand under her hair to pull her in for a kiss.  Their lips met softly. Katy recoiled.

“Gah!  We need to brush our teeth!  Your breath smells like an old sock! Come on,”  Katy commanded. She sprang off her surprised lover and headed to the bathroom.  She snagged some toothpaste from the sink and put it on her finger. She gargled and spat in his sink as his face appeared in the mirror behind her.  She plucked his toothbrush from the cup and added toothpaste.

“Open.”  His eyes widened but he complied and allowed her to brush his teeth.  She liked men who could follow orders and perhaps this mystery man would be worth seeing again on a real date.  She waited for him to spit and then sat on the bathroom counter. He eased himself between her legs and bent to kiss her.

Katy moaned as he deepened their kiss. She wiggled her hips until her body was balanced against his on the edge of the counter.    He pulled back to look in her eyes for consent, and she nodded while wrapping her legs around his hips. She helped his cock ease into her pussy.  

“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered.

“We’ll work on that,” Katy replied as she began to buck against his body.

Thigh School

Thigh School

IMG_5232This story was written for Mischa Eliot’s writing homework fun.  She is the bomb diggity.  http://www.mischaeliot.com/

Katy was thankful that it was finally fall break.  She had four full days to unwind and get organized for the next teaching term.  She had accepted the Visual Arts Specialist position in July with a happy heart, and while she enjoyed the students and faculty, her new principal was a micromanaging beast that overshadowed her experience.  Dr. Spice demanded lesson plans reviews daily and often popped by her classroom just to find ways to critique her.  She hated going to her mailbox and seeing the bright yellow post-it notes he left that detailed what she was doing wrong.  Reading his notes left her feeling demoralized and frustrated.  

She slept in on her first day of freedom and woke past noon.  She stretched out in her bed and smiled.  A good night’s sleep was the perfect remedy for her stress and worries.  She planned on eating cold pizza for breakfast and then spend the day organizing her notes to prepare for the next few months of school.  She wound her long auburn hair into a bun and began getting her things ready for a day of preparation and planning.  Katy thunked the pizza box on the table and turned her laptop on to get to work.  She had collected all of the post-it notes from Dr. Spice and began to correct and change her curriculum maps and lesson plans to better reflect his pedagogy ideals.  She pulled up her school’s website and started to enter her password.  It didn’t work.  She tried again and she again got an error message.  She then remembered a memo she got mid-week about changing passwords for security reasons.  She had changed hers between classes and saved it to her school computer.  She cussed as she realized that if she wanted to complete her work, she would have to go to school.  She quickly showered and started to get dressed.   She knew that she had a quick Tinder coffee date for that afternoon that would probably lead to an evening of wanton debauchery.  Katy was passionate about teaching, but her true love was sex. She had a parade of men in her life that would boggle most vanilla minds. She decided that she wouldn’t have time to come back home after working at school so she put some extra time in her hair and makeup and slipped on a flirty dress and heels.   Her lace adorned cleavage spilled out of the top of the dress and the skirt flashed peeks of her thigh high stockings.  She would never wear such an outfit to school normally, but she wanted to look hot for her date.

Katy arrived at school and noticed that she was the only car in the parking lot.  She hurriedly gathered her belongings and went to unlock the school.  Dr. Spice gave all the faculty a key to the building and Katy fumbled with the key ring that he issued.  It was a little tassel looking thing that had two pom poms attached to it in the their school colors of purple and silver.  The ring held two keys, but only one opened the building.  Katy always forgot to ask what the other key opened.  

The building was dark and her classroom was in the far corner of the school.  Her high heels echoed in the hallway and Katy had a shiver run up her spine as she felt empty building press around her.  Her classroom was neat and orderly.  She worked her ass off to keep it that way as Dr. Spice hated clutter.  She was the ART teacher and it was supposed to be messy in her room to feed creativity, but she feared Dr. Spice’s rough voice and piercing eyes.  Her computer booted up easily and Katy settled in to work.  She slipped off her heels and propped her feet up on her desk as she hummed and edited documents.  She let an errant finger casually trace her slit as she thought about timelines and lesson plans.  She allowed herself to moan softly as she probed and stroked her clit.  She could skirt along the edge of orgasm for hours playing this way. She loved the control that she had over her body and the final release was always so much better if she teased herself.  

She finally finished with her work a few hours later and was throbbing for her date.  She needed to be fucked hard after putting in all these extra hours and a random Tinder date seemed perfect.  She licked her naughty finger clean and then rubbed her temples and Dr. Spice clouded her thoughts. She hated him.  Once she allowed this thought to occur, the feeling welled up inside of her and she felt the need to take action and create something to express her angst.  She was a passionate artist.  She had works in almost every coffee shop in town under a fake name, Pumpkin Scarlett.  She mostly painted delicate nude studies of herself and she loved the secret exhibitionism aspect of her work.  Walking into a coffee shop where her hips and legs hung over her table made her feel so incredibly sexy.  She decided that she would make a little mess in the principal’s office.

Katy took the short cut through the lecture hall and went into the back of Dr. Spice’s office.  It reeked of cinnamon pine cones and air freshener.  She propped the door open to air the place out and began to look for his cache of post it notes.  She was going to cover every square inch of his room in the stupid yellow squares.  She began her search and looked in his desk drawers.  They were full of files and the regular office supply stuff.  She knew he had to have boxes of notes somewhere, but they weren’t in the usual locations.  There was one closet in the room, but it looked very shallow.  She opened the door and found cases of the yellow notes. She moved the boxes out of the closet and was getting ready to work on her revenge, but something caught her eye.  Behind the boxes was a door marked “Faculty Lounge.”  

She tried the doorknob, but it was locked.  She shrugged and began to open the tiny packages of notes.  She moved her purse on top of Dr. Spice’s desk and she accidentally dropped it; spilling the contents. Her keys tinkled as they hit the wood and she noticed the second key on the ring.  Curiosity got the best of her and she decided to try it in the locked secret door.  

The key clicked the door unlocked and it opened easily.  Katy reached for a light switch and illuminated a short hallway.  She started to explore, but she heard someone approaching the room.  She quickly shut the closet doors and scooted under Mr. Spice’s desk.  

“Who propped the office door open?  What’s all this mess?”

Katy recognized the voice of their head of maintenance, Ms. Coco.  She was a crisp woman who was dramatically beautiful and thorough in keeping their school in top condition.  She ran a crew janitors who were efficient and seemed very content in their work.  She was pushing something into the office and whatever it was landed on the floor with a squishy thud.  

Katy peered out from under the desk to investigate and was shocked to be eyeball to eyeball with Dr. Spice.  She jumped and banged her head on the desk.  Ms. Coco heard the sound and soon Katy was being pulled to her feet by the formidable woman. Her eyes grew wide when she saw her outfit.  Ms. Coco was in a tight leather corset  that hugged every curve of her body.  The laces strained against her full supple breasts, and Katy’s mouth went dry.  She was wearing black leather boots and fishnet stockings similar to the ones that showed from under Katy’s dress.  Ms. Coco was hot.  

Dr.  Spice was on the floor with his arms bound behind him and a ball gag in his mouth.  He looked away when Katy glanced at him.  He was wearing his usual business suit and tie and he had an enormous erection.  Ms. Coco placed her boot right on his cock and pressed hard.  He groaned, but did not move away.  

“You’re the new art teacher.  I’ve seen your paintings around town.  I would know those boobs anywhere, ” Ms. Coco said, “Hmmm. I think you will do nicely.”  Ms. Coco drew her finger along Katy’s jawline as she admired the young teacher, and Katy felt her panties get soaked. 

“What’s going on here?” Katy stammered as she shook herself free from Ms. Coco’s hungry gaze.  “Are you ok, Dr. Spice?”  

“The worm is just fine.  Has he been giving you trouble?  He has a taste for young teachers and tends to be a big growly bear to them.  He needs to learn his lesson and play nice.  Right, worm?”  She pressed with her boot again and Dr. Spice nodded as he cried out in pain.  “Now you, my dear, would be a welcome addition to our Faculty Lounge. You may leave now, or I can teach you how to really treat administration.”  

Katy had played mostly submissive roles in her sexual explorations, but this woman was obviously a Domme.  The power that emanated from this woman was profound and Katy was hooked.  She wanted to learn.  

“I would love to learn,” Katy responded.  Ms. Coco smiled and took Katy’s hand.  She placed the end of the rope that was binding Dr. Spice’s arms in Katy’s hands.  

“First, we have to prepare the worm,”  Ms. Coco sneered at Dr. Spice, “Get up.  You are making us wait.”  

Katy pulled the rope to help Dr. Spice to his feet. Her anger towards him bubbled to the surface.    “You’re an asshole,” Katy spat out, “You made my life miserable with your constant criticism.”  Dr. Spice hung his head, but his dick pulsed obviously in his pants.    Katy felt the emotion drain from her body and it was replaced by a touch of pity and something exciting. Dr. Spice continued to look at the floor.  

Ms. Coco pulled his chin up with a perfectly manicured hand, “This talented young lady is now one of US.  Do you understand, worm?”  

Dr. Spice nodded and a strand of drool dripped from the edge of the ball gag.  Katy and Ms. Coco led the trussed up worm down the hallway behind the “Faculty Room”door.  

From then on, the only yellow post it messages Katy received said simply, “My office, please, Mistress.”