Tag Archives: a pound of flesh

Moonshine Ember By Charles E.J. Moulton

My lusciously rich beauty. My fabulous cocksucker kitten.

I secretly wondered if the museum now worked on displaying live and moving artwork. In that case, I would probably have walked up and touched the treasure. What parts? Well, I would’ve started with the knockers and slowly fumbled myself down to her ass. The crowning glory would then be trying out her damp snatch. Ah, artistic bliss. Ah, wet pussies.

The living artwork in question? More opulent than a 9 feet by 9 feet Rubens painting, more tranquil than a Monet, more exquisite than a William Turner and more crazy than a Jackson Pollock galaxy spread. Her beauty certainly outshone most artworks that I had seen in my days. And I had seen a lot of art in my young life.

At that point, though, when I saw her first in that art museum in Vienna, she was all new, all sexy, all cockraising and all flabbergasting.

I would’ve fucked her right there on the spot.

I had done quite a bit of tit examination in my day. Having chosen to specialize on baroque art was no coincidence: my love for buxom vixens really went into the extreme. I just loved big tits and round asses.

This time, I hit the jackpot.

Damn it, I told myself. I had come here to do some research for my thesis, study the details in Rubens paintings, take notes and map out a plan for my literary work. After all, my final exam was coming up and I needed to get plenty of material for my paper. Vienna’s Art Museum provided me with all I needed, including several experienced colleagues with inside information of all those fantastic baroque painting techniques and anecdotes as to who painted what in which of Rubens’ artworks? Snyder, Jordaens, Bruegel?

Rubens’ art was like sexual intercourse: a collaboration.

Well, I put my thesis on hold that spring day. My cock only cared about making itself comfortable inside its new home: her wet pussy.

I had to have her. It was as simple as that. I saw that woman and I was lost.

I wondered why the guards didn’t ask her to stand back and watch the paintings from afar. Her inspection of Rubens’ rather voluptuous and naked second wife Helene Fourment, wearing only a fur, bordered on the obsessively meticulous. Somehow, though, something told me that the guards had hard-ons as well, every male trouser in this room bulging like crazy. I could actually see them drooling.

Okay, I drooled, too. Her tight black skirt embraced her ass in a way that had my sperm factory working overtime. I really didn’t know where to look first: her ass, her boobs or her long flowing hair? It also really did not help that her skirt ended in stockings with patterns of flowers and butterflies, elegantly positioned silvery decorations squirted on the fabric. They reminded me of cumdrops or small droplets of flowing clit juice. It made me seriously wonder if her panties were as pink as her pussy. On the other hand, pussies never had the same color, but all of them tasted good.

I really did try to go back to the studying of the painting. I worked really, really hard at it, too. I even went to the length of actually turning away from the woman and going to another part of the museum just to spite myself. I mean, I couldn’t be gawking at her like a silly sophomore, could I? I mean, I was no teenager. I was close to my Master’s Degree in Art History. An art master with a hard-on? Okay, we men all have hard-ons, but during scientific research? Sexual research, maybe. Stranger things have happened.

No matter how hard I tried, though, and I did try hard, I constantly went back to where she stood. Every time that woman bent over to look at a painting, I swooned. I could see the buttcrack and it sung an aria by Mozart to me:

“Oh, art thou sweet, thou noble derriere. My rock of ages in her cleft so fair.”

It made me want to rip that skirt apart and stick my dick inside her wobbly ass, pumping her like a fucking rabbit, watching the buttcheeks bounce like two balls in unison.

It got stranger and stranger, actually. I kept finding reasons to follow her just so I could study the size of her boobs. As I said, my reputation as a boob-man became renowned even early in high school. My best friend found a couple of copies of Penthouse in my sock drawer in my room, a magazine filled to the brim with big, luscious jugs. We ended up wanking all night, telling my mom that we were working on a school project.

Anyway, after following this incredible woman for about an hour I decided that I really had to fuck her. I didn’t know how, but my cock would definitely land in her cunt eventually. Oh, how fantastic she looked when she studied those paintings, her breasts dangling down, her elegant black blouse hugging her tits like crazy. Those things had to be C-cups. D? Mmh, I dunno. Getting my hands on those lucious breasts would, in any case, be like dying and going to heaven.

So, accordingly, I had discreetly glanced over and see if the blouse had a cleavage. When I realized that it did, I tiptoed over to where she stood more than once just to sneak-peek into that wonderful oasis of mammary love and cockteasing bliss.

Long and sensually curved hair, her black locks gently falling across her gold necklace, spilling over those large round earrings. It made that precum pop out of my dick with a happy: “Hello, swallow me!”

I knew what those big earrings symbolized, as well: her love-holes. Sexy women always wore these round earrings to show men how willing they were to fuck. This girl had big round earrings, so I felt fucking lucky.

The lipstick made me feel like shoving my entire manhood onto her tongue and shooting my loud load onto her tonsils, giving her wet stomach the protein dose of its life.

While my testosterone battled with my brain about whether to leave the museum and go home or just study her buttcrack for the rest of the day, her phone rang. Everybody in the room looked up. It wasn’t as if nobody had noticed her. She was probably the most fantastic looking woman in the room, the country, the planet, the universe, whatever. Some chick in the museum, a dowdy looking things, even gave her boyfriend a dirty look for giving that fuckable lady a half-smile.

When the sexy woman’s phone rang, however, it gave that other chick a reason to think how much of a slut this girl actually was.

She didn’t care, did she?

Any man would’ve been unfaithful for Miss Perfect. She knew that.

When the girl threw her head to one side, letting that marvelous head of hers float and dangle and curve and sway, I melted. I think I came twice, actually, my sperm making little squirts in my Gucci underwear.

“Natalie Imrie here,” the woman chirped. Her accent sounded British. Hot damn, I told myself. I am in the hands of an English lass. She gave the caller a sexy laugh. “Oh, yes. Of course. Well, if you want to, sure. Where are you right now?”

This girl spoke with a posh London accent that had me want her even more.

I think I flied and went to Brazil when that woman, whom I had wanted to fuck for over an hour now, actually came and sat down on the couch next to me. Yes, I’ll admit it. I had my notepad and my pencil in my lap and I had written lots of gibberish in silly letters about the paintings I had been looking at, just so anyone wouldn’t think I was just here to study how incredible an ass that woman had.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said and smiled again, throwing me a shot of her Chopard perfume my way just by throwing one of her sexy arms onto the seat next to me. “I’ll go right ahead. No, no, that’s no problem. Well, I’ll see what happens, okay?”

Who was she talking to? Her boyfriend? An associate? Her father?

What was she going to do?

“Maybe you’ll get some good ideas. Yes, dear. I know who you mean.”

The small pause and the obviously sexy chatter by some man at the other end – and it obviously was a man – had me wondering what she was talking about. Was she going to be unfaithful? British girls, however, had the reputation of giving spectacular blowjobs.

“Bye,” the woman that I now knew to be Natalie Imrie told bid her caller farewell.

As if she had just been given a signal of some sort, Natalie Imrie with the fantastic jugs turned to me and looked me straight in the eye.

I grew red in the face at first, but then I got lost inside the color of her eyes. They were brown, but with an interesting quality that had me think of ember, the glowing, hot coal made of greatly heated wood. Her eyes glowed like a campfire on the night of a full moon, the moon being the seas of white round her ember iris in each eye. Actually, her gaze made me feel like a werewolf. Natalie looked like a kitten, her long eyelashes curved outwards with more black visible toward the edges of her eyes.

I stammered a quiet: “Hi there!”

“Hi,” Natalie sing-songed, making me tremble. “You American?”

I nodded, giggling, now feeling that I rushed steadily into the welcome parade of Natalie’s cunt. “Yes, I’m from Michigan, but I am studying art here in Vienna. I’m about half a year away from my Master’s Degree. What about you?”

Natalie arched her back, obviously giving me a closer look at those absolute incredible looking breasts. She knew it, too. “I work here.” She shrugged once, glancing over at me with a knowing glance. “I am already finished with my Master’s. I came here a year ago. My mum’s German, although I grew up in London. When I was offered a position here as an Art Director, I took the job. I have the best of both worlds.”

She looked at me for what I really felt to be three hours, although it probably just amounted to three seconds.

“What brought you here?”

Well, although I looked at her boobs all the time and not into her eyes while I spoke, I told her that I had painted since childhood, that my family had taken me on a trip to Vienna when I was a boy and that I finally decided to move here in order to study art.

When I looked up at Natalie, she glanced at me with that disarming look that had me screaming for sex. She started chuckling. Out of nowhere, she put her hand to her mouth and giggled in such a knowing way that I almost felt insulted.

“What?” I asked, feeling ashamed of myself and not knowing why.

“You,” she finally said, putting her one hand with its long red fingernails on my leg, “are so easy to see through. Mr. Transparent.”

My mouth twitched a bit. I now felt insecure. Was she toying with me?

“Why?”

“Mr. Bulge-in-his-pants.”

I cleared my throat, feeling like someone just caught jerking off in a public place.

She shook her head. “What’s your name?”

“Uhm, Kevin.”

“Okay, uhm, Kevin?”

“Yeah?”

“You have been following me around this museum for over an hour!”

“You noticed?”

She laughed even harder now, her boobs jumping up and down as she did. A couple of visitors looked her way as she did, probably thinking she was just a stupid slut and not the Director of the Vienna Art Museum.

“Uhm, Kevin, the moment I walked into the Rubens Room, you made me feel like a painting by Rubens,” she added provocatively. “I bet,” she added, leaning over to whisper in my ear, making me smell that Chopard perfume even more intensely, “that you have had lots of fantasies about me over the course of this hour. Me, naked, pouring honey over your cock and licking it off with my elegant lips …”

I started chuckling nervously.

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Come on, uhm, Kevin,” Natalie whispered again, now touching my ear with red lips, “you wanna fuck me, don’t you?”

Her sultry gaze had me cum again.

I nodded.

Natalie continued: “I don’t know why I am doing this, but I might be willing to let you inspect my pussy a bit closer.”

She now put her hand on my lap and rubbed it gently.

“It’s shaved, you know.”

I giggled quietly and frantically, if such a thing is possible.

“Where do you want to fuck, Natalie? Here?”

I kept looking behind me, above me, to all sides, just to see if anyone overheard our conversation. Everyone seemed to be busy studying art, while I was studying Natalie’s C-cups. She shrugged.

“Let that be my concern. Fancy a shag, love?”

I giggled again and nodded, feeling like a little schoolboy.

“Then cum!”

Natalie stood up, shook her tits a bit, took my hand, looking like Venus. I literally felt like a school boy being pulled by his mom to art class. Natalie escorted me through the Monet rooms, the Rubens gallery, the Bruegel chamber, past the Van Eycks and Vermeers and Velasquez paintings of the Spanish Habsburg Infantas. When we arrived in a rather posh office with a large chandelier, Natalie closed the large white door and locked it.

Surrounded by silver trays and expensive art, I held a woman’s hand who had been just a wet dream a moment ago. Natalie still had not arrived where she wanted me to be, obviously. She escorted me into an even smaller room, equipped only with a bed-like couch, a nighttime table, a few books and a lamp.

She locked that door, as well, once we came in. I think I lost my nerve, because I started shaking. My legs shook, my hands shook and my shoulders shivered.

And I got the biggest hard-on of my life.

Natalie, who up until now had been amused by me, looked down on the growing bulge in my jeans and couldn’t stop groaning.

“What’s that?”

I shrugged.

“Something for you.”

“Look promising,” she mused. “Is it already Christmas?”

She wrinkled her nose a bit, making her cheeks dimple, her tongue licking her lips.

Slowly, she took a few steps up toward me, her high heels shuffling against the carpet. As she dwindled down upon her knees, her ass swayed in a way that reminded me of a flowers swaying in the wind. Using her long nails as tools to unzip my pants, she made me feel like a lamb on the way to the slaughter. If that hadn’t been enough, she now pulled down the trousers all the way to the ground using only her mouth.

“Holy shit, uhm, Kevin,” she moaned. “It’s huge.”

“9,4 inches,” I said proudly. “24 centimeters.”

Natalie carefully opened her mouth and wrapped her elegant cocksucker lips around my shaft, making little squeaking noises and smacking her lips in the process.

That fabulous sensation made me see stars. She licked my cock, gave me deep throat, sucked on my balls. She was ready to be a submissive whore, letting that game of hide-and-seek go and just become the cock sucking hooker that I knew she could be.

The helmet of my penis was now blue, all of the blood in my body pumping into my crotch. “Oh, ah shuhsst lovvve schucking your cockh,” she mused.

I banged my cock into her mouth, my big tasty cock dripping like crazy. I felt like flying, moaning and groaning in higher and higher tones.

With a thunderous plop and really sexy splash of a sound, it sounded like she had just finished a lollipop, she took out my long dick out of my mouth and wiped off her own saliva with an exclamation: “Show me how good a pussy licker you are, baby. Lick this sexy bimbo’s cunt like a good boy.”

I didn’t have to wait long in order to follow her dominating orders, my dick bobbing in its erect position like a flagpole in the wind.

In fact, Natalie Imrie stripped faster than I have ever seen a babe strip. Her boobs made my dick laugh, sing, holler, dance, squirt, love and cha-cha-cha all at once. I think I disappeared into that cleavage for an hour before moving down to drink me some pussy. I had the feeling that I buried my face deeper and deeper into her clit by the second. So deep, in fact, that I soon only saw her shaved pussy as pink as her knickers.

The sound I made was quite similar to the sound I made when I ate me some spare ribs: sloppy. There were liters of salty clitty juice in there and I was going to drink it all. I laughed to myself, aroused by this amazing sensation.

I heaved myself out of her crotch, my face dripping wet with cunt-liquid. When I thrust my prick into her cunt hole, Natalie sang, actually sang Gilda’s “Caro Nome” from Verdi’s “Rigoletto”. She seemed to ache with excitement, her grunting telling me that every part of her clit throbbing with pain, a pain that she actually enjoyed.

I withdrew my dick and stretched it out into the open air, jerking off like crazy, her insane gaze giving me the impression that’s she was in a sexual trance. Willingly, she crawled about on the couch toward my throbbing cock, looking like a seal, swirling around from her position on her back to a position under my dick, opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue, making little squeaking and horny tones.

“Give me your cum,” she moaned, sticking out her tongue. “Come on, baby. Squirt on my face.”

My hand movements now accelerated, my face grimaced, my head bobbing, my dick even bigger and bluer than before. Finally, my cock erupted, a long string of cum skyrocketing into onto her tongue. The second portion shot onto her left cheek, the final dessert of this three course sperm-dinner landing on her nose. Every portion of her face was covered in cum. She licked it all off, swallowing every drop. A stunned silence now came over the room, our mutual copulation inspiring us. The office became our symbiosis, the restful oasis of a green acre that had appeared after the hot fire of lust of our burning desire.

Then, she laughed.

There she was, naked, full of sperm, shouting with laughter.

First, it felt cool. Then, I wondered what she was laughing at.

Laughing with me or at me?

“Man, uhm, Kevin, you were the best fuck of my life. Wait until my husband hears about this.”

It felt like I had been stuck with a pin, my cock almost immediately shrinking down to the size of a peanut.

“Your husband?”

Natalie sat up, rubbing her boobs as she did.

“That was the guy I talked to on my phone when I came and sat down next to you,” she began. “We go to lots of swinger clubs in our free time and keep looking for things to spice up our sex life with. He called me on my cellular and told me to try to get you to fuck me. It wasn’t hard, though. I think he got some good tips in how to fuck me well.”

“He saw me watching you.”

She caressed my cheek. “He’s a security guard here.”

Natalie raised her voice.

“Wolfgang?”

In a jiffy, a back door opened and another naked man wandered in, holding a camera.

In a thick Austrian accent, he said:

“Fantastic fuck, uhm, Kevin!”

Flabbergasted by this turn of events, I started laughing as well.

Not only was Natalie’s husband naked, his equally long cock raised, a film obviously now available on DVD for our mutual viewing pleasure. He had also brought something else with him from the back room: three naked ladies, one blonde, one brunette and one redhead, all of them with huge boobs, all of them ready to have themselves some dick.

I definitely knew that if I played my cards right, I could get a job here.

After all, I would have fucking nice colleagues.

Ah, my moonshine ember and her wonderful friends.

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Stabbing Pleasure By Sunni Brock

I smell your desire
Inhaling your breath
As our tongues touch then embrace
And I reach downward
Smoothing the warm mist of perspiration
Over the tingling hairs of your navel

You rise suddenly and
Your arrow pricks my finger
Leaving a single drop of sticky sweetness
On my throbbing fingertip

My nipples are racing
To escape their bindings
I feel my thighs trembling
My stomach tightens

I am clenching
Moist, warm, and waiting
Engorged with the thrill
Of your immanent entry

Maneuvering my hips over yours
Freeing my full breasts
And cupping them
Into your face

Biting, teasing, nibbling
A direct nerve
Between my bosom
And maidenhead

I feel your arrow tapping
Ready to accept my invitation
I am so swollen it aches
Engorged to the edge of ecstasy

Breath held for a moment
My lips part in anticipation
Then the tip barely probing
I feel myself spreading slowly
You gliding gently, firmly in

In…

In…

Deeper,
Slowly,
Ever deeper
Until I can hardly –

Your
Arrow
Plunges
Deeply
Into
My
Open
Heart

…and I gasp as I teeter on the brink

and you retreat

then stab again

and again

and I die a little

again

and again

Until I break open
Gushing love from my legs
in a torrent release of rapture
flowing down the creases of our bodies
into rivulets over the sheets

The Cost That Lies Between Heaven and Earth By Matt Piskun

The sweet perfume wafting from the grape vines was strong that morning, making one dizzy despite the fruits lack of fermentation. Isabella studied the figure before her, its features hidden in the shadows of the mid-summer sun.

“Do you know what it means to call me, child?” The beast’s growl was deep and rhythmic.

“I do.” Isabella was not afraid. The young girl moved slowly forward, struggling to contain the anxiousness brimming inside her.

“I sense a kind heart in you. It is merely buried under several layers of venial sins. Why do you seek me? ”

“My brother, Henry, has stolen my inheritance left to me by my father, the King.” Her olive eyes narrowed. “He leaves me with nothing. Am I to beg for crusts of bread? Furthermore, the family fool, Alfonzo now threatens my path to the throne. Spain is my birthright, but he desires it as his own and would toss me aside as one would a barren cow.”

Sensing her ambition the figure in the shadows smiled, its breathing now faster. “I don’t know if I’m drunk from the nectar that drips off these vines, but I think I am falling in love with you, child.”

Isabella’s cheeks flushed pink as she moved toward him. “Let me see your face.”

Emerging from the darkness came a young male demon. The sunlight made his skin, the color of ripe plum flesh, all the more brilliant. He was slender and muscular with two small horn buds protruding from his forehead. Two majestic wings of burgundy leather were folded neatly behind his back.

Isabella smiled and extended her hand to be kissed.

“I may be a youthful demon but I am no fool. I can help you reach the throne.” He looked into her eyes of lime-colored sea and knew this was what she was waiting for. “Although royal blood may course through your nubile body, it’s you who will be subservient to me.” The young hell-spawn spread his great wings and hovered above her.

Isabella took pause. She had vowed to never let any man hold dominion over her. Surrounded by incompetent males trying to prevent her ascent to the throne, she knew in her heart that she would still one day be queen and any man that was lucky enough would be her king. However, this was no mere man that floated above the earth before her. A feeling spread through her that she’d never known before. An ember of admiration and desire lit inside Isabella and the beating of leather wings now fanned it to flames. Isabella took a knee and bowed before his floating body.

“Save yourself for me, girl.” He grabbed hold of his horns. “When you become a woman I will come back for you. It is with your first blood that we will consummate our arrangement.”

Isabella, looked up into the swirling ash of his eyes and told him, “For my rightful place, I will wait for you…”

“Ingot, my name is Ingot.” With that being said he sailed up above the clouds and out of sight as Isabella clutched her pounding heart.

# # #

Father Juan de Valera watched with pursed lips, shaking his head back and forth. He pulled his beard, dotted with black hairs drowning in a chaotic sea of grey, into a fine point. His queen spoke through clenched teeth of sheen ivory and cruelty.

“Whore!”

A young woman kneels before her, nude and covered in binding chains. Long, red hair sticks to her face as she trembles with fear.

“I can smell your sex, that which you give so freely and without commitment from God. Whip her again!”

The high priest, whose fat and swollen face is hidden beneath a brown hood, cracks his whip. It sounds like thunder and the young girl whimpers as the lashes tear thin, scarlet lines into her milk-white flesh.

“Again!” Isabella commands, her fist raised.

The priest snaps his whip repeatedly and the wooden cross hanging from his neck swings back and forth wildly. Large droplets of sweat fly from the darkness of his hood.

Every cry from the naked girl elicits a small burst of excitement from Isabella. She presses her thighs together tightly, enjoying the hot pleasure building between her legs. When she can no longer endure the mounting desire she commands the high priest to take the girl away and convert her to God. “If she does not admit to believing, make her do so! Spare not one inch of her!” A sweaty smile spreads beneath the hood of the priest.

Isabella, Queen of Spain, tries to hide her lust as she speaks but her eyes, wild with desire expose her growing passion. “I’ll pray for your success, priest.” Father de Valera, his tanned and wizened face looking all the more angular from his sharpened beard, watches as she turns and enters her private quarters. He makes the sign of the cross, whispering the names of the holy trinity as he turns to leave, unseen.

Closing the door behind her, the Queen loosens then drops the purple ceremonial robe she wears exposing her scarred skin. A myriad of criss-crossing magenta scars decorate her breasts and abdomen. She runs her hands over them and shudders as her fingertips play with the grooves in her skin.

“I yearn for you,” Isabella moans. A small flame deep inside her flickers, reminding her of the first time she laid eyes upon him. She thinks back to that day as a young girl in her garden, but she can no longer remember the sweet smell of the flowering vines.

# # #

Her scars writhe as if alive in the candlelight that illuminates her bedroom. Ingot sits in a chair with his arms resting on his now sizeable belly.

“You are a wicked woman, Bella.”

“I need satisfaction, my lord.” Isabella kneels before him.

Ingot stands and strokes the great, curved horns that sit upon his head. “So be it.”

She takes the demon’s member in her mouth and works it feverishly until her pleasing him results in the monster’s orgasm. He releases his semen upon her chest and it sizzles leaving a new pattern of fresh scars that ooze bright red in their infancy. Isabella moans with pleasure and writhes in pain, unable to tell the two apart.

Ingot sits back down in his chair and sighs. “Must I always please?”

“I’ve another favor to ask of you.”

“You’ve such greed in you! Did your brother, Alfonso, not suffer from an unfortunate case of poisoning, along with a slit throat for good measure? You were there grinning in the shadows as he choked, gurgling on his own blood, knowing I did this for you, for your crown. And what of your other sibling, Henry? For wronging you I removed any chance he could have to bear children. Like grapes his manhood were in my talons, oozing from the palm of my hand.” He ran a long black fingernail across her face racing her cheekbone. “And yet you need more?” The swirling embers that made up his eyes grew a little brighter. “I suppose this is why I love you.”

“My kingdom needs land. The people demand it from their Queen and I am not accustomed to disappointing my citizens.”

The demon smiles with jagged, yellow stained teeth and waves a hand in Isabella’s direction, causing his stomach to shake. “You are a good Queen. There is a man who prays to my black kingdom for fame and discovery. He’s not a Spaniard but he will suffice if you will have him. His name is Columbus. I will deliver him to you and he will discover new lands in the name of Spain, allowing you to keep hold of your coronet.”

Isabella winced as she put her ceremonial robes back on. “I will do as I must. Now I must return to the business of running my kingdom.”

“And I think I will pay a visit to mine.”

# # #

Father Juan de Valera finishes his tapas of chorizo and bread then puts on the surplice and purple stole he wears for the sacrament of confession. He’ll confront her today. He has finally seen enough and will tell her that he can no longer sit in silence as she performs atrocities in the good lord’s name.

The torture, the sacrifice, and the experiments must come to an end.

His Queen comes to him in a simple green dress, her straight, brown hair, tipped with gold, flows over her bare shoulders. She likes to appear a simple woman when confessing to him.

“Good afternoon, Father.”

“Blessed to see you, Isabella.”

She will not allow herself to be called Queen during penance. Isabella takes the velvet, padded seat across from Father de Valera who twirls the grey hair of his beard between his thumb and forefinger.

“I no longer love my King.”

“We must meet together, the three of us.”

“No. He is more of a house pet than a man. I no longer know what to do with him.”

“We can annul the marriage if you feel the relationship can’t be mended.”

“That carries risk, father. The people grow restless and I do not want to give them further cause with the belief that I have chosen an impotent and spineless king who can’t handle his woman. I will pray for an answer.”

Isabella rises to leave but the priest quickly stands and raises his hand, signaling for her to wait.

“What is so pressing that you choose to waste my time?” The gold of her hair twinkles as if full of stars in the candle light of the tabernacle.

“That young girl today…”

“The harlot being whipped?”

“Yes. What became of her?”

“Are you spying on me father?”de Valera twisted his beard into a fine point. “All that concerns our loving God finds it’s way to my ears.

The Queens eyes looked black in the deep shadows of the church. “I don’t know yet, but whatever happens will surely be God’s will and then I’m sure it will make its way to your foolish old ears.”

“You talk of God’s will and yet I heard her cries of torture,” he looks Isabella in the eyes as he speaks, “as I have the screams of all the others.”

The queen’s expression does not hide her surprise at the priest’s audacity. The sparkle in her hair vanishes as she stands. “The Lord knows what I do in his name and he allows it.”

“It is not God’s place to forbid you, it is your choice. Also, I respectfully disagree that God would want his teachings forced upon others.” Father de Valera bows his head and stares at the deep wrinkles around his knuckles in silence.

“You dare! You crusty, old eunuch! You may spread his word but the Lord speaks through me.”

The priest sighs. His highness’s reaction is expected. He looks at the silver cross that adorns the bookcase beside him. Its rubies sparkle in the candlelight as his Queens hair did moments ago. The images of Christ dying on the cross, the spear poking through his ribs, the briny rags stuffed in his mouth, fill his mind. He can feel his lord’s last breath across his cheek and finds the courage to truly speak his mind. “What sort of sins are you atoning for? What possesses you to produce converts in such a manner?”

“I do what I must.”

“You serve the devil when you act this way.”

Isabella’s olive eyes narrow and her hands ball into ring covered fists. Her chin quivers as she speaks. “Wrong! You are wrong! What I do, I do to fight the devil! You may have read of him in your texts, but I have met him, touched him! I create an army of worshipers whose belief in God’s kingdom will oppose such evil. I do what needs to be done!” Spit sprays from her thin, red lips, “Cross me or speak out against me again and you will meet God much sooner than you desire!”

The Queen turns and leaves, slamming the wooden door of the church with such force the stain glass windows quiver. Juan de Valera sighs long and hard then picks up the silver cross next to him. “You do what you must.” He pulls the top of the cross off, unsheathing a steel blade. He looks at his reflection and frowns. “Now I must do as I must.”

# # #

Isabella tosses and turns on her bed. The silk cloth that adorns her canopy sways as if alive. She sweats into her cotton sheets as her heart races. Her king sleeps alone in an adjacent bedroom, but her thoughts are not of him, they are of Ingot and Father de Valera.

A bead of sweat slowly slides down from between her breasts onto her stomach. Isabella feels as though the aged priest saw right through her. Maybe he knew her secrets, but who could read his withered old face? It hardly mattered if he did. The price of her throne was Ingot and Christ forgive her she loved the foul beast. Ingot was the only male she had ever been with that truly understood her. Despite loving as only a devil can; she thinks his feelings are genuine nonetheless. It’s with great sadness that she builds a kingdom of Christians to combat her lover’s dark realm, but the web of power stretches wide and is taught with deceit. Just as her sovereign duties must be necessitated, so too must the obligations to her soul be met. Her sheets are now soaked with sweat as she wonders how much more her conscious can take. A decision must soon be made and tomorrow she will make it. Satisfied with this resolution, Isabella closes her eyes to sleep, but as she does Ingot appears before her.

# # #

It’s dark. He can smell the wisps of smoke from the recently snuffed out candles that line the hallway to the Queen’s quarters. Father de Valera shuffles quietly across the stone floor his blade gripped tightly in one hand, the other stretched out before him feeling into the shadows. He stops as the darkness shifts before him. The priest flattens himself against the wall and hears what sounds like the scrapping of claws against stone. The air moves around him and he feels a cold, heavy darkness pressing upon his skin. He prays to God the almighty for courage then continues forward. He pictures, for fortitude, his lord carrying the True Cross, whipped and bleeding as his crown of thorns tears into him. Finally he comes to the Queen’s door made of carved cypress. De Valera hears talking inside and puts his ear to the door. In between beats of his heart he can hear Isabella shouting. “I love you! I love you! You are a part of me!”

Father listens for a response, but hears no answer to the queen’s admissions. He presses his ear more tightly against the sculpted wooden door. If she were with someone else he would have to terminate his holy mission. The priest is old and tired. He does not have the strength, physically or spiritually, to take two lives, but he fears he will never have the courage to get this far again. He holds his breath to hear more clearly and is quite sure he hears only Isabella’s voice inside. He presses his hand against the door, finding it unlatched. After making the sign of the cross he slowly pushes Isabella’s door open.

The door opens with a slight creak that may as well have been as deafening as canon fire. His Queen spins around to see who has entered. She is naked and the priest gasps, not at her nude form but at the great maze of scars that covers her flesh in various shades of scarlet.

“You abandon me now?” She turns and shouts to a fluttering shade of black silk that hangs over an open window. A small vase of citrus scented oil is heating on a black iron stand in the fireplace, making the room smell fresh and sweet.

Still lost in the labyrinth of maroon gashes that decorate her peach colored skin, Father de Valera keeps his knife at his side. Isabella grabs hold of the poker that lay across the hearth and swings it across the priest’s face. He screams, dropping his knife and covering his face with his hands. He gags as blood pours out from between his clamped fingers.

“You dare, priest, to invade my privacy? First you question my motives then you come to me uninvited?” She looks down at the jewel-encrusted blade on the floor. “And you have come to kill me.”

Father de Valera reaches out for the blade but Isabella brings her weapon down across his hand snapping his fingers. The priest shouts out in pain and brings his gnarled fingers to his chest. Blood drips steadily from his beard. He gets to his feet and charges her, hitting Isabella in the chest with his shoulder and knocking the poker from her hands.

She lands on her back by the fireplace, the priest on top of her, his one good hand pressing down on her throat. Isabella puts both hands around his wrist to remove it but can’t. Blood from the father’s nose falls steadily on her naked torso filling the scared channels in her flesh. De Valera’s eyes flicker with the fires roaring light. The Queen reaches behind her into the fireplace, grabs hold of a smoldering log and brings it down across his head, knocking him off with a showering of embers.

The priest rolls onto his back, consciousness coming and going, with Isabella standing over him. Her breasts heave as she struggles for breath. Queen Isabella’s body is sticky with blood and ash. She holds the smoking log overhead as the priest weakly covers his face. Suddenly, Isabella drops the wood in her hands. The Queen turns as she hears the beating of wings.

“Coward, you come to me now that the fight is over?”

Ingot comes in through the open window, the black window shade across his shoulders resembling a cape. “I can not lay hands on a holy man. It’s a treaty older than time itself.”

“You disappoint me, Ingot. For that you will pleasure me.”

The demon flies in on outstretched wings and lands in front of the fireplace. Isabella approaches him on her knees. ‘This disappointment is the end’, she thinks, ‘I will launch a grand inquisition today, forcefully shaping, as if from clay, an army of Catholics. Their faith will save me. I may give my body to hell but my soul is still Gods!’

Father de Valera opens his blood-encrusted eyes to see Isabella on her knees talking to herself. Her hands stroke the vase of boiling citrus oil as she pours it onto her chest, searing the skin where it hits causing more wounds to bubble and blister. She wails and writhes in ecstasy.

de Valera starts to crawl towards the blade that is still on the floor. He inches forward and grips the jeweled handle, but when he does he sees Isabella’s reflection in the blade. “Don’t worry, lover, I will take care of the priest.”

With blade in hand he turns over to face Isabella who is holding the iron poker in her hands. He points the blade at her. “You’re mad! There is nobody here but you and I!”

Whispering she tells him, “Tell God I do what I must.” Then the Queen drives the poker through his ribs.

With his hands wrapped around the iron protruding from his chest, Father de Valera’s vision begins to fade as shadows start to ebb out the light. He gasps for air as his punctured lung collapses. Isabella turns and walks toward the fireplace. Once more she appears to be talking to no one. From within the encroaching darkness the priest hears the rhythmic beating of his dying heart; or is it, he wonders, the beating of wings?

 

Temptation: The Anthology is out now!

Temptation: The Anthology. is out now!

Temptation: The Anthology, a diverse collection of erotic fiction from around the world. From the sensual caress of a lover, to S&M torture, fantasies and filth… A wild ride, a passionate embrace, all of it awaits you…

Featuring:

Seven Foot Two, Fur of Blue By James Hartley

Charlie’s Room By A. A. Garrison

Sister Patience By Jerome Brooke

Bird of Paradise By Jax

Finding Elsbet By Peter Baltensperger

Don’t Go By S.L. Johnson

For The Love Of Rachel By Laura J Campbell

Shoot Me By Albert Tucher

A Pound of Flesh By Charles Langley

Inspiration By Ken Goldman

A Little Bit of Lovin’ and a Bushel of Winter Wheat By Charles Langley

The Collar, The Leash and The Wife By Aiden Mulane

Nympho Librarian By Mike Sharlow

A Good Night’s Sleep By Franklin Sr.

Down By Ralph Greco

Barbara’s Waterboarding By Sandy George

The Art of Women By Jerome Brooke

For The Love Of Legs And Feet By Michael F.

Ms. Welsh After the Interview By Paul Henry

Devil’s Delight By Matthew Wilson

The Muse By Jerome Brooke

Kamalia By Kara Leigh Miller

The Hangover Cure By Holly Day

Olivia’s Ordeal By DirtyMartini

Grey By Caitlin Hoffman

After Dinner By Jerome Brooke

Original fiction and the very best reprints from the successful Temptation Magazine blog: https://temptationmag.wordpress.com/

The book is available now!

The printed book is available here:

http://www.lulu.com/shop/temptation-magazine/temptation-the-anthology/paperback/product-20528099.html

The ebook version in several formats is available here:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/257622

Coming soon to Kindle!

Olivia’s Ordeal By DirtyMartini

So many things were going through Olivia’s young mind as she rode in the back of the van. Though she was uncomfortable from the cuffs and leg irons digging into her lovely olive skin, this was barely a distraction as she replayed the recent events of her life over and over in her head. It was dark in the back of the transport van, and the 20-minute ride gave her plenty of time to think. How could she have not known her boyfriend Kenny was dealing drugs? He seemed like a nice guy and always bought her nice things. How could he have set her up to take the fall? He had told her he loved her and they would always be together. What was life going to be like in her new home? She heard so many stories. Were all those dykey girls going to be staring at her pretty young body? God, the thought of it made her cringe…

She can still hear the judge’s words, “90 days in the woman’s unit at the county jail”. She can still hear her lawyer telling her what a great plea bargain deal he got her. Great deal for whom, she thought, him? He gets paid and gets to go home to his wife. I’m the one going to jail.

After what seemed like an eternity, the van finally arrived at the main prison entrance. The driver said something into the radio and Olivia could hear the main gate squeal loudly as it slowly rolled open. Once inside the walls the van slowly drove down the long road to the intake building. As it rolled past the streetlights, each shone its light beam in through the small window on the side of the van, lighting up Olivia’s blank expression with a slow motion strobe effect.

After a few minutes the van stopped at the loading dock. A few more minutes and Olivia could hear voices on the other side of the van door. The door opened quickly and Olivia could see two female guards.

“Step out of the van please.”

Olivia got up and slowly walked to the back of the van, the chains from the leg irons clanging in rhythm with every step she took.

“Watch your step.”

The two armed officers slowly escorted Olivia past the loading dock to a door. When they arrived at the door, one of the officers spoke into the intercom.

“One prisoner from central holding.”

A loud buzzing sound signaled the unlocking of the door and Olivia was led in. She was escorted to a small, hard, wooden bench and told to sit. One of the guards took out a key and released the handcuffs from one of her wrists. She then took the freed cuff and locked Olivia to a large metal hook on the bench. Next, she bent down and released the leg irons from both ankles and tossed them in a heap against the wall. The guard then went over to a desk where a large female officer sat and handed her an envelope containing Olivia’s jewelry and personal property. After a few moments of small talk, the two guards that brought Olivia in left. As they passed by Olivia one of them spoke, “Someone will be with you in a few minutes.” Then they walked back out the door.

Gee, someone will be with me in a few minutes, Olivia muttered to herself. Well, they can take their sweet time. I’m in no hurry. She looked over at the officer sitting at the desk. She was a large, black woman about 30. She did not look up and did not seem in any hurry. At no time did she even acknowledge Olivia’s presence.

Olivia looked around the jail. It was cold sitting on the bench. Olivia had goose bumps and the small hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. She was not shivering, but she was cold.

The gray painted cinder block walls did nothing to give the place a feeling of warmth. There were girls’ names etched into the walls everywhere. In some cases a heart would surround two girls’ names. Olivia stared at the wall where ‘Lisa loves Pam’ was prominently etched in bold letters and let out a small chuckle. ‘That could never be me,’ she thought.

After a half-hour or so, the large black officer finally got up. She walked over to Olivia and stood directly in front of her. She was a large, imposing figure with a look of authority. She held some papers in her hand, which she kept looking at. After a moment she asked, “Your name?”

“Olivia Diaz” was the reply.

“Your age?”

“19.”

“Social security number?”

“178-88-4953” was Olivia’s quiet reply.

The officer then pulled out a key and unlocked Olivia’s handcuffs. “Follow me” she said.

Olivia followed the officer to a small room down the hall that contained a desk with a computer and not much else. The officer reached into a closet and pulled out a plastic storage bin. She then removed a paper form from the top desk drawer and began filling it out. As she did she handed the plastic bin to Olivia.

“Remove all your clothing and place it in the bin, including your underwear. I see you have a shirt, pants, bra, panties, two socks and a pair of sneakers. I also need you to sign this property receipt.”

“Can’t I keep my underwear?” asked Olivia.

“No. You can’t have anything you can hide things in.”

As soon as she handed Olivia the property receipt, the officer reached in the bottom drawer and removed a pair of latex gloves from a large box. She put the gloves on.

“I need you to turn around and face the wall.”

As Olivia turned and faced the wall, she could feel the officer’s fingers probing her ears, bending each one back slowly. She then lifted up Olivia’s long black hair and ran her fingers slowly through it in a deliberate methodical kind of way.

“You have anything on your person you should not have?”

“No,” said Olivia; “I was searched just before I entered the court house.”

“I have to do it again. Procedure, you know.”

Olivia could feel that the officer let go of her hair as it fell back onto her neck and shoulders.

“Bend over for me.”

‘Oh God,’ thought Olivia. Olivia could feel the officer’s gloved hands gently spreading her butt cheeks. She could feel her fingers probe her butt hole. Her fingers started to work their way down.

“Bend over a little farther for me. Touch your toes.”

Olivia could feel the officer’s fingers make their way down to her womanhood. Suddenly she felt a finger being inserted slowly into her and she let out a muffled moan. This was so degrading, she kept thinking. She tried not to think about it but the officer’s slow movements actually felt good. After a moment she removed her hand.

“Turn around for me.”

Olivia did as told.

“Open your mouth, wide.”

As Olivia opened her mouth, the officer pulled out a small flashlight from her pocket and started examining her mouth.

“Lift your tongue.”

Again Olivia did as told. As the officer turned off the light and put it back in her pocket, Olivia breathed a sigh of relief. The officer walked over to a small cart and came back with a one-piece orange jump suit.

“Put this on. This is what you will be wearing for the remainder of your stay. The snaps go in the front.”

Olivia put on the jumpsuit as the officer watched intently. As she put it on she noticed only two of the four snaps actually worked. She could see in a nearby mirror that her breasts were clearly visible from the sides and if she leaned over, the top portion of her neatly trimmed pubic hair was exposed.

“Do you have another jumpsuit? This one is missing snaps. Please.”

“No,” said the officer. “It is the only one in your size.”

Olivia was frantic. ‘Oh my God,’ she thought. ‘This is a nightmare. Someone please get me out of here. Please.’

The officer led Olivia out of the room and down the hall to a holding cell. There was another inmate in the cell, also in an orange suit.

“Wait here till we have your cell ready,” the officer said. “It should be soon.”

The officer closed the door with a sharp clang. Olivia tried not to stare at the other inmate. She was a large woman with close-cropped hair and faded monochrome tattoos. Olivia could make out the name Wendy tattooed on the girl’s forearm. Oh My God, she thought. I would hate to be her cellmate.

“Hi, I’m Andy,” said the other girl. “What you in for?”

“Possession,” quipped Olivia. “My boyfriend set me up.”

“Sounds like a boyfriend you don’t need. Ever been with another girl before?”

“No, and I don’t intend to,” said Olivia sharply.

“Don’t worry. You will. You’ll be Gay for the Stay, just like all the rest. You’ll see.”

Gay for the stay. Those words cut through Olivia’s mind like a hot knife through butter. There was no way Olivia would ever let that happen.

“Andrea Jackson?” a guard asked at the cell door. “Come with me.”

Andy was led out. Olivia was hoping she could get her cell soon so she could lie down in peace and collect her thoughts. She was cold, she felt naked and she was scared. About 20 minutes later another guard appeared at the door.

“Olivia Diaz. Come with me.”

Olivia was led down the hall to her awaiting cell. There were a few hoots and whistles from some of the girls in the cells as Olivia passed by. They finally arrived at the cell.

“24 North,” shouted the guard. “Open.”

The door opened with a loud buzz.

“Welcome to your new home.”

Olivia didn’t say a word as she walked into the cell.

“You get the top bunk,” a voice said from below. Olivia could not see the face at first, but the voice sounded familiar. It was Andy. Oh my God.

“Hey, look who it is. We’re going to have a real good time, you and me.”

Olivia climbed up to the top bunk and lied down. She was tired. It was a long day. In a little while she was asleep.

Sometime later Olivia awoke to find a hand on her thigh. It was Andy. “What’s up precious?”

“Please don’t touch me. Please. I’ll scream.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” with that, Andy put her hand over Olivia’s mouth and began climbing up the bed and into the bunk. She got next to Olivia in the bed, keeping her hand over her mouth the whole time. There was barely room for the two of them in the small bunk. The big woman had her leg between Olivia’s legs, her thigh firmly pressing Olivia’s thigh and moving her leg up and down along Olivia’s legs.

“Feels good, don’t it?”

Andy began to feel Olivia’s breasts with her free hand. At first she gently caressed them and then she firmly squeezed her left breast.

“Oh, these are nice,” Andy said, “I can see we are going to have a good time you and me.”

Andy gave Olivia’s left nipple a soft kiss. With that she released her breast and stopped stroking her leg.

“I’m going to release your mouth and if you say a word your ass is mine.”

Olivia was paralyzed with fear as the girl took her hand away. Olivia just lied there shaking as the other girl got down.

There was no other incident the rest of the night. Still, Olivia had a hard time sleeping. The other girls in the cellblock made noise all night, hollering and talking trash. The hard mat was so uncomfortable. Of course it was cold.

The next morning started with breakfast. The whole cellblock ate at the same time. Olivia quickly got her food and found a seat. She felt the whole room was staring at her. She hoped she could eat quickly and keep a low profile. Her hopes were dashed when she looked up and saw Andy approaching. Andy put her tray down in front of the seat right next to hers and walked up behind Olivia. Olivia began to get nervous in anticipation of what might happen next.

“Hey all, I want to introduce you to my new celly, Olivia.”

“She looks fine. I’ll give you a carton of smokes for her!” one of the inmates shouted across the room. There was laughter from other inmates.

“No, she’s a keeper. All mine.” With that, Andy started to run her fingers through Olivia’s long black hair. She then started caressing her neck and ran her hand up and down her cheek.

“Keep your hands off me!” screamed Olivia. With that, Olivia picked up her orange juice and threw it in Andy’s face.

“Bitch!” shouted Andy as she slapped Olivia hard across the face, knocking her onto the floor. Andy got on top of her and the two started going at it. Olivia’s nipples could be seen plainly exposed by her ill-fitting jumpsuit as the two rolled on the floor. Other inmates gathered around and started cheering. It was instant mayhem as the two girls went at it like animals.

The ensuing struggle brought almost immediate attention from the guards. In moments two correction officers were standing over the sweaty girls breaking them apart. One of them lifted Olivia up off the ground by her shoulders. Andy got up.

“Alright, what happened here?” shouted the guard. “Hey Andy, welcome back!”

“Yea, glad to be here, Pam,” said Andy. It was clear they knew each other.

“What you in for this time?”

“Picked up on an old warrant. Bullshit,” answered Andy.

“I have to take yous and write yous up you know.”

“That ain’t fair, she started it!” said Olivia.

“Don’t matter. There is no fighting.”

Pam led the two down the hall to a small office. She seated them and proceeded to fill out some paperwork. After about ten minutes she handed a paper to Andy and told her she could go back to her cell.

“We all taken care of?” Andy asked.

“Yea, we good,” Pam said, “You can still get shit?”

“Hell yea!” quipped Andy. It was clear these two knew each other and there was something going on other than a normal inmate guard relationship. “I got peoples coming next week. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Don’t forget me,” said Pam, “You go. I want to have a talk with the new girl.”

“OK. I’ll get back at you next week.” With that Andy left the room.

Andy’s exit left Olivia alone with Pam. Pam smiled up at her with a sinister looking grin and then walked around to the front of the desk. She sat down on the edge of the desk and stared at Olivia with that grin on her face.

“I have to write you up for fighting, you know,” Pam said. “That is a whole ‘nother charge. Could keep you here another six months, maybe longer.”

“Please, no, please!” pleaded Olivia.

“I have no choice. Sorry.”

“Please, please. I’ll do anything! Please!”

“Hmm. That is what I wanted to hear.”

With that Pam removed her nightstick from its holster and started to slowly rub her own crotch with it. Slowly, up and down she rubbed the front of her pants between her own legs.

She then took the nightstick and in one sharp, quick upward motion undid the two snaps holding closed Olivia’s jumpsuit. Olivia’s breathing became so heavy you could hear every breath. Pam started to tease Olivia with the nightstick. First she started stroking her cheek with it, then on down to her breasts. Pam got off the desk and walked around behind Olivia’s chair.

“Get up,” she said as she hoisted Olivia out of her chair. As Olivia got up her jumpsuit fell to her ankles. She was standing in front of Pam stark naked her beautiful olive skin in full view. It was a feast for Pam’s eyes. Pam took the nightstick and dragged it up and down Olivia’s butt crack. She then walked around in front of Olivia and stuck it hard right between Olivia’s legs. Olivia closed her eyes as she let out a sharp moan. The nightstick was cold against her clit. Pam started to slide the nightstick up and down against Olivia’s neatly trimmed bush. Pam could hear Olivia’s faint moans and sighs with every stroke. Pam again walked around behind Olivia.

“Bend over, bitch!”

“Oh please, no!” Olivia pleaded.

“It’s this or six months more. Your choice.”

Olivia slowly bent forward. She again felt the nightstick against her butt this time edging slowly against the resistance of her butt hole.

“Lean against the desk with your arms wide,” Pam insisted.

Olivia did as told. She could feel Pam back the stick off her butt, but instead Pam started to ease it into Olivia’s tight pussy. Olivia started to moan as Pam slowly started to ease the cold nightstick in and out. First it was just an inch or two, then farther and farther. The stick was cold and its large diameter was more than Olivia was used to. Pam kept at it, each time pushing the stick up further and further into Olivia’s tight, moist cunt. Pam started to push it in and out faster and faster as Olivia felt Pam’s finger’s from her other hand reaching between her legs and finding her clit. As degrading as this was it was starting to feel really good to Olivia and in minutes she started to moan deeply and could feel an orgasm coming on. Within moments Olivia was spread out on the desk, writhing in delight, the nightstick humping her tight pussy like a dog.

Pam slowed her movements down as Olivia came back down from her climax. Pam quickly jerked the stick out of Olivia’s pussy and thrust it into Olivia’s butt in a quick motion that caused Olivia to scream. Once again Pam started pumping the nightstick. Her thrusts became quicker and quicker and Olivia’s moans became louder and louder. Once again the girl became overcome with pleasure, wetting the desk with her cum and wetting Pam’s hand. The inside of Olivia’s thighs glistened with her juices and her back was shiny with her sweat. Pam pulled out the stick quickly once again and placed it down on the desk next to Olivia’s face.

“Put your jumpsuit on and get out of here,” Pam said. “If you tell anyone, you’re a dead girl.”

As Olivia started to walk out, Pam suddenly jumped up and stood in front of her. “You know what?” Pam said coyly, “I don’t think I’m done with you. Down on your knees Bitch!” Pam was shouting at this point. “On your fucking knees, Bitch!”

With that, Pam took the nightstick and put it between her thighs up by her crotch. The stick was angled up at about 45 degrees, like an erect penis. “I want you to suck me off! And make sure I cum.”

Olivia hesitated. Pam grabbed the girl by her hair and held her head inches from the stick. “Are we going to do this the hard way? I can shove it through your teeth!”

Olivia opened her mouth and slowly placed her lips on the hard stick. She could see streaks of shininess from where the stick had just come out of her own ass.

“Come on Bitch, make me cum!” She began to move Olivia’s head up and down by tugging at her hair. Her movements became more and more violent with every thrust.

“Come on Bitch!” she was shouting once again, “Come on Bitch! I said make me cum!” Pam was aggressively moving Olivia’s head up and down on the stick. You could hear Olivia’s mouth making slobbering sounds as the saliva ran down the stick. Pam kept shouting,

“Come on Bitch! Make me cum!” as she just kept getting more and more violent. She was wildly moving Olivia’s head up and down on the nightstick as Olivia’s drool ran down the stick and started to puddle forming a wet stain on Pam’s pants. Finally, after about five minutes Pam stopped.

“I guess it ain’t gonna cum. I bet it’s the hardest dick you ever had!” She was still shouting. “Snap up your suit and get the fuck out of here.”

Olivia ran out the door as fast as she could before Pam could change her mind. Once around the corner she stopped and leaned against the wall in an effort to catch her breath. She was panting from excitement. She couldn’t talk, just pant. A few minutes later she walked back to her cell.

Upon being buzzed into her cell, Olivia immediately climbed up to her top bunk and lied down.

The ordeal she just went through took a lot out of her. She was hungry, tired and felt the need to take a shower badly. She asked Andy when lunch was, and was told she had just missed it. She also asked about taking a shower and was told shower privileges were at two. That was about an hour away. She had time to rest and try to calm her mind.

Two o’clock finally arrived and the inmates would be allowed to move about the jail, within limits of course. Inmates could watch TV in the dayroom, play basketball in the gym, use the phones or take showers. Olivia really looked forward to the shower. She got a clean towel and facecloth from the trustee for her cellblock and headed down to the shower room.

When she arrived at the shower room Olivia was pleased to see it was not crowded so there would be no wait. Olivia undid the snaps on her jumpsuit and let it drop to the floor. She picked it up and placed it on a hook on the wall. She made a mental note to try to get another clean jumpsuit as soon as possible. Hopefully one with all the snaps in the front.

Olivia got in the shower and turned it on. The water was a bit cold but boy did it sure feel refreshing. She stood there for a couple of minutes and let the water just run over her body, the drops running off her long black hair and down her back. Oh, did it feel good.

After a few minutes of this Olivia grabbed the soap from the rack and began to soap up her body. First her arms, then her legs and on up. As she stood there soaping herself up, with her eyes closed and her face pointed up towards the oncoming stream of water, Olivia suddenly felt a hand on her butt. She turned around to see Andy and two other girls, all completely naked. She was so engrossed in the shower she did not notice them enter the room.

“Looks like you need some help soaping up,” said Andy, “We’re here to help.”

Andy bent down and took her bar of soap and started soaping up Olivia’s legs one at a time with long firm strokes while her two friends each held Olivia by the arms. Andy started to kiss and nibble at Olivia’s lovely firm ass which was right in front of her face. She then slipped her tongue between her butt cheeks and darted it in and out while going up and down her butt. She continued moving the soap upward from her legs and started to soap up Olivia’s ass with firm massage like motions. She made sure to carefully soap up her asshole and as the running water ran down Olivia’s butt crack, Andy would flick her butt hole with her tongue and re-apply the soap. In the meantime, the other two girls were nibbling at Olivia’s ears and soaping up her upper body paying special attention to her breasts and hardening nipples. Olivia was covered with quite a bit of soap at this point. The girls turned her around and Andy judiciously soaped up her soft bush.

“I could use a good cleansing brush,” she joked as she rubbed her face against Olivia’s soaped up mound.

“Looks like it’s time to rinse her off,” Andy said and with that the girls each grabbed Olivia under the arms and Andy grabbed her by the butt and they hoisted her up with her legs in the air with her soapy mound nearly eye level directly under the stream of cool water. Olivia shut her eyes and let out a moan as the cool water hit her clit. Andy moved her right hand up to Olivia’s pussy and slowly inserted first one, then two and finally three fingers, vigorously working the girl into a frenzy. The water was rushing over her body and with her butt aimed high in the air the soapy water was rolling down past her rounded breasts and streaming down her long black hair. With her head tilted back her hair nearly touched the floor as the soapy water dripped off it forming a slippery puddle on the tile floor. The girls continued to soap and fondle each other in the shower for some time enjoying the feeling of the water rushing over their bodies. After it was over they took turns toweling each other off accompanied by lots of giggling and caressing. After a bit of playful towel snapping and long kisses they helped each other get dressed and headed off to the dayroom.

Later that day at dinnertime Olivia and Andy sat next to each other. Andy would sometimes reach over and caress Olivia’s leg or arm. If she was bothered by it, she certainly didn’t show it.

Olivia ended up getting released after serving half her time. She did the remaining time on probation.

When it was time for Olivia to leave, Andy handed Olivia her phone number on a slip of paper. “I should be out of here in a couple more months,” she said.

Olivia took the paper and thought, ‘the nerve of her, I have a boyfriend.’ Olivia thought about her recent past and what Kenny had done. She stuck the piece of paper in her pocket.

After Dinner By Jerome Brooke

“Do read to me, Emile! Please!” said the Countess. “A play, perhaps.”

I selected a book from the shelves of the library of the countess. Madam had a large library, for someone living in Haiti. Most had sat on the shelf unread until my arrival. She had shipped them en masse from her chateau outside Nice, after she had inherited the plantation. I began to read to her from the book. She poured a glass of one of her cordials, and gave it to me. I sipped the glass of crème de menthe, as I read from the collection of Moliere.

“Very nice, dear one. But yours are so much better!” I smiled at the grandiose comparison.

“You are so kind. I do hope my book does well in Paris,” I replied. I continued to read from the book. The Countess had secured publication of a collection of my poems in France. She saw herself as my muse and protectoress.

Marie entered with a tray of bonbons, and a decanter of wine. She gave a saucer with the sweets to each of us, with a slight smile to me. “Merci, Marie,” I thanked her. “Very nice.” Marie smiled, and left. Perhaps she would visit my room later. She would be happy with a piece of silver.

“You must be careful, Lucian. I have warned you about the black women. They are only trouble.”

“Oui, Madam.”

“I would send her to the fields, but I suspect you visit more to see her, and the other tarts, than to see me!”

“We are lovers, Madam – an older woman, and her young lover. We outrage society! And you are a countess,” I said, kissing the hand of the dowager. “Black women are always there.”

The Countess pulled me close, running her hand down my side. She began to unbutton my trousers, seeking pleasure. Enlivened by her own daring, she brought out favored toy, and began to use her tongue. Her head moved up and down, and then she froze. She looked up, and caught my eye. She drew back, and swallowed with a gulp. She touched her throat, with a smile. “So much!”

The Countess settled back in the sofa, and raised her dress and petticoat. I knelt before her, and pulled down her pantaloons. I placed my hands on her plump legs, and drew close. I began to trace her soft folds with my tongue, as she began to moan. I continued to minister to her, until she cried out in passion.

“Tonight, Lucian. Go, and refresh yourself before dinner,” Madam sighed, catching her breath. “What you do to me, pretty one.” Madame rang for Marie. She stood, and began to unlace her dress, to prepare for a bath. Marie caught my eye, and winked as she helped the countess to disrobe. I bowed, and left for my own room.

After dinner, I retired to my room to pen a letter to my family in Paris, and to look over some of my work in progress. Later, I refreshed myself, and then donned my nightshirt and robe. I went to the suite of the Countess, and entered the anteroom. I found Marie waiting, and gave her a quick embrace. I entered the chamber of Madam, to find her waiting in bed.

“Come to bed, Cherie. Rub my back, dear one,” the Lady said. “You are so sweet.” This would not take long. Madam always fell asleep soon after pleasure. Marie would be waiting.

A Good Night’s Sleep By Franklin Sr.

She stretched from what she considered a good night’s sleep, it was Saturday morning and waking up alone wasn’t really that bad, she was getting used to it. A few drinks with friends last night, a late night chat over the phone and restful peaceful sleep. She’d been working at the new job for seven months now. A quick move over several states and here she was, the assistant manager of the second largest storage warehouse in the state, not too bad for a 32 year old divorced mother to none. Yes, she wanted kids and she still had lots of time; that biological clock that her mother spoke of still had a few years to go. For now though, sex was just for fun, she’d know when it was time to get serious. Anyway, today was a get ready for tonight sort of day. She was going on a triple date with two of the girls from work, and she had been set up with one of their husband’s friends. She’d met him briefly about a month a go, he seemed nice, sort of quiet, but it was just an introduction at a barbecue; she didn’t think much of it.

Tonight was to be casual, barbecue at Polly’s place, then down to the beach for a few drinks and a fire, she loved those squishy marshmallows roasted over the fire; when done just right, there was nothing better to put in your… she laughed, her thoughts were getting naughty as her mind projected to her date with Rob. She just wanted to have a good time tonight, nothing more, no intimacy, although a passionate kiss and the feel of a man’s arms around her would certainly be welcome.

She chose a nice short sleeve form fitting summer blouse, worn over her sports bra it looked sexy, she whispered “summer sexy” when she looked at herself in the mirror. Her capri pants were a soft brown, not too tight, and the outfit was topped with white tennis shoes, no socks. She carried a light sweater just in case and a clutch purse.

The barbecue at Polly’s place was great, a lot of laughs, a few drinks and there was no awkward feelings between her and Rob on their first date, maybe because they had met before, or maybe because they both just expected a few laughs and nothing more. Down at the beach they all sat around and exchanged a few chuckles, the marshmallows were good and all enjoyed the warmth of the squishy insides and the brown toasted crispy covering, the guys especially liked them when followed by a long gulp of cold beer.

Through the evening, the couples paired off and she found herself alone with Rob. The  past few hours didn’t tell them a lot about each other, but they did enjoy each others company and it didn’t surprise her when the words, let’s go to my place for a few more beers escaped her lips. Rob was game and on arrival she was heading for the fridge when she found herself wrapped up in two very strong arms being kissed hungrily. She liked it and gently pushed him back, smiled and said, do you want a glass with your beer? He laughed, said no and they both sat on her couch and stared at each other. After a few sips of beer, he put his arm around her and they sat for a seemingly long time. Slowly, gently, she put her hand on his stomach, he bent down and kissed her, her hand moved downward, his hand moved upward to her breast, they both stopped, kissed hard with passion and he moved forward, pushing her gently on her back. Rob put his hand under her blouse and kissed her naval, he edged upward towards her breasts and gently nibbled her nipples through her sports bra. Her hands were behind his head, tangled in his hair, pushing him, guiding him to wherever she wanted him to go. She pushed the top of his head now, no guidance needed and he slid down between her legs. They were both still fully clothed, but that did not stop him from pushing, breathing, biting gently at her mound, even though clothing covered the moist precious prize beneath. While savouring the scent, he reached up and undid her bra; she liked that and swiftly removed it, then slid her blouse off. Rob looked up and saw two beautiful spheres, he reached for them while still mouthing her mound through her slacks.

Her tits felt awesome in his hands, they were full and soft and at this moment her nipples were pointing to the sky and seemed to yell, pinch me, pinch me, so he did. He pinched them hard, she felt the shiver and couldn’t tell if she said it aloud or jut thought it to herself, but somewhere in her mind, she heard, “harder, harder, harder” and as his thumb and fore-finger rolled her nipples around in a circular motion, then back again, she breathed heavily and enjoyed the moment. Little bumps had formed on her areoles around her nipples, she wanted more and when she opened her eyes, his fingers were still pinching her rock hard nipples and his mouth was still grinding on her now wet pussy. Wow, she thought, the guys done this before, she smiled to herself, closed her eyes and hoped this would last.

She allowed herself a few more moments of euphoria and then took him by the wrists and pulled him upwards. His mouth stopped at her breasts and he sucked each nipple before continuing upward and kissing her hard on the lips. She felt his hardness as they kissed and she reached for him. He liked her squeezing his cock, but he wanted to taste her first. He slid down her pants and saw the cutest little pair of red panties, they were damp and he put his nose close and wafted in the scent. He slid her panties off and saw a short narrow strip of wispy pubic hair, like an arrow pointing the way to a hidden treasure. He nudged her legs open, her sex glistened, he felt the pressure on the front of his pants and knew his cock needed its freedom. It could wait one more minute, his head slowly disappeared between her thighs and his tongue softly lapped at her moistness, he heard her groan, he licked at her clit and it popped out of its sheath. It was engorged and he sucked it gently. She was dripping when he pulled away. He took his finger and ran it up her slit, then licked her juices from his finger, when she saw this, she wanted him even more.

She reached for his belt buckle as he stood up, when his pants hit the floor, his boxers were right behind. She stared at his hardness for a short time, stroked it, watched the skin go back and forth from the head of his manhood, She reached underneath and handled his balls, a small groan came from his lips, she gave them a gentle squeeze and took the head of his cock in her mouth, he felt a slight tremble in his knees. He pushed forward, she did not move, she took in more, and then more, he moved back and started to pump slowly. Oh that felt so good, he withdrew, dropped to his knees and sank his hardness into the soft wet flesh that he had tasted only moments ago. She gasped and as he looked into her eyes, he saw her smile, her eyes were dancing, her breasts were bouncing back and forth in rhythm with his strokes and she was saying ever so softly, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, and he was very happy to oblige.

The tingle in his balls started and he knew he was near his end, he wanted to take her from behind, he loved that position, to be able to grab onto a woman’s hips and just go wild as she pushed back to accept her man’s hardness, it was a great feeling made even greater when both parties were synchronized, accepting and hotter than hades. As he was thinking about this, she groaned loudly, he looked at her and her face grew strained, her pussy gripped his cock as if it were a vice and he knew she was cumming. A moment later he felt the heat of her moistness as it spewed from her, only to crash against his shaft sunk deeply inside her. He loved the feeling of the heat, of the wetness, of the spasms of her cunt against his cock. He watched her orgasm subside and she relaxed for a brief moment, smiling up at him. He smiled back and started to pump his shaft into her again. He reached down and put both her legs on his shoulders, in this position he could drive like a jackhammer and he did for a short period of time. She liked it, it was evident when he pulled out and her facial expressions went from glad to sad. He turned her around and ploughed his cock deep inside her. She pushed back, she was still wet and he couldn’t help but pull out once more and lick that sweet pussy. Maybe it was the taste of both their juices mingled together, but she smelled great and tasted oh so sweet. He heard a low moan and an ooohhhhh came from her lips; he noticed her leg twitch slightly and her toes were wiggling wildly, no doubt about it, her second orgasm. She enjoyed the few minutes spent on licking her ass before he drove his cock back into her pussy, not too many men liked to plant their tongue up someone’s ass, another plus for him in her books.

Rob was at full throttle now, he couldn’t stop, she was pushing back hard, he was driving forward and knew his time was near. As he grunted each breath and she was shouting fuck me Rob, fuck me damn it, his ass cheeks tightened, he was holding back now, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, then he just couldn’t… he felt it happen, it seemed to start in his asshole, work up through his balls and spew out the end of his cock in gush after gush of hot cum. He looked down and squeezed each of her ass cheeks as his cock continued to spasm inside her, a few strokes while he was cumming added to the indescribable pleasure; and when he’d finished, he stroked inside her just a few more times because it felt so damn good. He fell exhausted to the floor, she slid down beside him, cum dripping down her leg. She bent over and squeezed the head of his dick, took his last drop of cum on her finger and spread it on her nipples, he moved over her, licked her nipples clean and heard her say; I had a good nights sleep last night and this is what happened, care to come to bed for a good nights sleep?

A Pound of Flesh By Charles Langley

The plaque on the door said “Sam Eliot, Attorney at Law”. It didn’t say that Sam was Samantha or that she was five foot six inches of curvy cuddleness and that she was proud of her obvious assets. It also didn’t warn you that she had a black belt in karate and could protect herself from unwanted attention to those assets. Plaques on a door don’t usually give you all the information you need to know.

Inside the office, Sam was the only thing that made coming through the door worth while. Certainly the imitation oak desk wouldn’t have attracted you, nor would the cheap metal file cabinets right out of Office Depot have gladdened your eye. The only sign of luxury was a leather couch against the far wall. Missing were the rows of law books all law offices were expected to display. Sam’s reference materials were on the Macintosh computer on the table in the far corner.

You got to the office through a foyer where a single platinum blonde handled appointments and phone calls for the eight pint sized offices beyond. Although the girl at the desk had all the right assets in all the right places, one glance at Sam made the receptionist look like a runner-up.

When Arnie came into the office, Sam took notice.of this ruggedly handsome James Garner type and immediately wanted to know him better. Much better. Sam was like that. She never argued with her hormones.

“How can I help you,” she asked, running over in her mind all the things she would be willing to help him with.

“I’m not sure you can, but I certainly hope so,” he said, his eyes taking an erotic inventory.

If not love at first sight, it was certainly lust at first encounter.

“The whole thing is kind of crazy,” he continued. “We had a fraternity bash in my last year at Rutgers that made all drunken orgies look like Sunday school picnics. Under the influence, I made a bet with another senior. I lost, and now, five years later he is here to collect his pound of flesh.”

“You mean that figuratively, of course.”

“I wish. We had just finished ‘Merchant of Venice’ and thought it cool to bet in a Shakespearean manner. We both treated it as a drunken joke, but this week he showed up demanding his winnings.”

Sam composed her lovely features into a frown. It bothered her that this hunk could be so stupid. She looked him over carefully. There wasn’t anywhere on his torso where a pound of flesh wouldn’t be sorely missed.

“Have you offered him cash, instead?”

“First thing I thought of. But the son-of-a-bitch made a killing in software and has more money than he knows what to do with.”

“Give me his name and address. I’ll see if I can find an out.”

The meeting was over. Stupid or not, she hated to see him go.

It was a week later when Bill Evans seated himself across the desk from Sam.

“Glad you could make it,” she said. In looks he wasn’t at all a loser, but compared to  Arnie he came up short.

“Now what is this I hear about a joke bet gone sour? You know it would never hold up in court.”

“You have to hear my side,” he said. “All through school this guy was Joe College. He played basketball like a pro, took all the academic honors, had girls raiding the dorm to steal his shorts. He made me look like a born loser. Now I have money I don’t need, lawyers on retainer doing nothing, and the time to drag him through a case that will show he wasn’t as smart as everyone thinks he is.”

“In other words, this is a spite case that you know you can’t win?”

“You might say that”.

She sat back in her chair, shoulders thrown back, sure that he would appreciate the merchandise she displayed. It was obvious that he did.

“What if I came up with something that would have the same effect but would cost less time and money and still show him up as a loser?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Since Arnie first came into my office he has spent as much time hitting on me as he has preparing his case,” she lied. “He has a certain appeal, but all I’ve given him is the time of day. And I intend to bill him for that. What if you made out without trying where he worked hard and failed?”

Bill was grinning from ear to ear. He was practically drooling.

“You mean… ?” he stammered.

“You know what I mean. I know what I want, and I don’t waste time about it.”

“Let’s get this straight. You’ll give me anything I want if I let you win this case?”

“I won’t give you a damn thing. But I’ll let you take what you’re man enough to take, without any repercussions.”

He thought about it. This made it even more enticing.

“When?”

“Right now.” She walked over to the door and locked it.

His eagerness made the oft referenced eager beaver seem reluctant. He rushed forward, reached, but never grasped. Somehow he found himself landing flat on his back short of the couch. This had to be an accident. He charged forward again. This time he felt himself flying through the air and he knew it was over when his face encountered the corner of the desk. He stood up, painfully, and put on his coat.

“Sorry,” he said as he went out the door, “You win. I thought you were a woman.”

You’ll never know how much a woman, she thought as she adjusted her clothes.

Next day Arnie heard the good news. Case closed. No details of how it was done.

“What’s the fee?” he asked.

“A pound of flesh,” she answered, “but I don’t want you detached from it.”