Runaway Slave By Claudette Harlow

Jo turtled into the peacoat collar’s thick warmth as the wind gusted off the snowy canal below. Passing the few open coffeehouses, the aroma of marijuana and hot coffee almost distracted her. She shook her shoulders to signal the path ahead. If a cockring would keep Pau’s dick harder, then she was going to find him one. Today. Now.

She was mentally repeating those instructions when she bumped into the tall muscular back of a man on the sidewalk. As he spun to face her, her foot slipped and she felt herself stumble to her knees. Reaching up to stop falling, her hand had scraped down his crotch and over his generously proportioned cock and balls. Jo drew her fingers back as if they were on fire.

Jo swallowed hard and pretended to fumble again, lightly spreading her fingers to measure the length of his cock. She couldn’t stretch them wide enough. She half snorted a gasp as her thumb pressed against his plump cockhead.

He calmly grasped her outstretched fingers and started to pull her up as a gust of wind caught under her unbuttoned coat. The first thing he noticed was her collar. Then her eyes. He puffed out a chilled breath when he saw the rest of her.

Above her fur-trimmed boots, beneath her black peacoat, Jo wore the high fetish fashion that only the wealthiest Masters and Mistresses buy for their toys and slaves. It revealed and concealed the body in sensual surprises as she shifted from leg to leg and finally stood. All the while, her eyes locked into his.

His eyes were milky brown and made her think of morning coffee and fucking at dawn. The mental image of her lips around that cockhead her thumb had grazed was burning in her mind. It was a stranger’s cock and it frightened her what she was feeling, what she was wanting. She wanted it.

She swayed and weaved until he touched her shoulder, dipping his head to look closer into her now half-lidded eyes.

“Are you stoned?” he asked in a raspy voice.

Her only response was to slowly lick the oval of her mouth.

He laughed lightly. She pulled her coat closed and took a hesitant step closer. The scent of her perfume and the brush of her hair made him alert as she whispered hotly at his ear.

“Take me somewhere and fuck me. Please.”

Jo was shocked to hear herself. It wasn’t just that this stranger’s cock was bigger and thicker. That was a bonus. It was that she wanted a stranger’s cock to suck and worship and to fuck her until she lost herself again to the feeling. That dangerous, who-knows-what-will-happen fucking and pleasuring.

“Please,” she repeated in a softer voice.

His fingers traced along her jaw then his thumb grazed across her collar, suddenly slipping his thumb through the ring at the center. He pulled her tight against his body. She could feel his cock hardening against her thigh.

“Again,” he commanded.

“Please fuck me.” Jo closed her eyes and draped her body along his, her hand between them caressing up and down his cock.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he rapsed into her hair. He pulled away and smiled brightly. “But I need to buy a new leash for this first,” he tapped the thick collar ring with a finger. “Then I will take you home and fuck you until you weep.”

Jo remained silent as he linked their arms and guided her along the sidewalk. The wind kept gusting into her eyes and making her shiver. As they walked, she tried to sneak glances at his cock, still hard and straining at his pants.

She wanted to stop him. To fall to her knees in front of him and unbuckle his belt. She wanted to slowly and carefully unzip his pants and engulf his cock in her mouth. She wanted to feel her throat resist until she swallowed and relaxed, feeling his thick cockhead slide down her throat. She could think of nothing but fucking his cock with her mouth and tongue, worshipping it, exulting in it, and with it.

She followed his lead, slowly building a mental scene in her mind. His hand snapping the clip of the leash on the ring of her collar. His fingers gripping the fresh leather strap, pulling her like a half-tamed animal to his erect cock and taking her – raw and hard and – Jo felt her knees weaken and she stiffened, leaning closer against him.

His upper arm, biceps well developed, skimmed against her breast as they walked. Jo felt it like edging. So close, such squeezing pressure but she wanted him to…do things to her nipples. Lick them, kiss them, bite them, suck them, pinch them, tease them…while she was unable to stop him. Tied up or restrained, open to his desires.

“Make me cum,” she pleaded silently with each footsep.

He pulled her through a doorway and stood looking around at the shelves. “Stay here,” he said, moving toward the back.

Jo tried to slow down her heartbeat and take deep breaths. She gazed uninterested around the shelves of the store until she saw a glass case displaying cockrings. She stepped closer and drew her forefinger slowly across the glass top. Like a double exposure or a ghost image, she envisioned Pau’s cock multiplied within each of the various rings and cock jewelry.

I’m wearing this one right now,” grumbled a voice in front of her. She looked aside and saw a man with his pants down and his cock and balls standing straight out at her. She saw a series of black leather straps encasing various parts of the man’s ball sac and cock shaft. The man swatted his cockhead and the shaft swung back and forth like a pendulum. “Hard as a rock. He grinned and pulled up his pants. “You want a cockring?”

Jo’s lips squenched. She wanted the stranger – she didn’t even know his name – she wanted him to come back now and put his leash on her collar. Her voice was so soft. “Please.”

“Well,” said the man stepping behind the counter and leaning closer as he played finger games with himself. “Tell me about this cock worthy of adornment.”

Jo felt a surge of lassitude rise up from her feet to the collar around her neck. She felt drained and sleepy. Her voice droned in her ears.

“Perfect. It is a perfect cock. Steady. Pulsing.” Jo’s knees buckled again and she steadied herself against the case, her hand uncontrollably rubbing over her pussy. “Master’s cock…” She groaned and pressed her thighs tightly together.

The man behind the counter followed her lead and started rubbing his cock through his pants. “Ohhh,” he moaned. “Yeah, yeah.”

“This one, I think,” said the stranger, clipping a hook to Jo’s collar ring and pulling the leash tight.

Her hand immediately stopped and Jo slumped. Her eyes were wet as she looked shyly up at him. She dipped her head in a slight bow and smiled gently. She sighed loudly. “Please fuck me,” she whispered hoarsely. “Please.”

The man behind the counter didn’t pause in his stroking. “You fuck her here. Now. No charge for the leash. It’s a freebie.”

The stranger leaned close to Jo and bored into her eyes. His gaze was as hard as his cock and Jo went glassy-eyed.

“Lock the door,” he said.

The man behind the counter nodded eagerly and flipped the deadbolt. Putting up the closed sign, he spun around and slid his hand down his pants. “Fuck her,” he groaned.

Jo peeled off her clothes in an awkward slow dance until she stood behind the cockring counter. Like a snake, her hand and arm moved inside the case, lightly touching this ring and that. She flicked her eyes up at the store man.

He nodded. “Any one you want,” he gasped, stroking his pants harder. A darker wet stain spreading beneath his fingers.

Jo brushed her fingers across the rings again and again. Some were gold; some shining silver and chrome. The leather ones yielded beneath her touch. She finally chose a black leather strap with a buckle.

Jo swiveled her neck and shrugged her shoulders, settling easily to her knees. She held the cockring in one hand and with the other beckoned the stranger.

Jo breathed warmly on his cock as she looped the strap around his ballsac and the root of his shaft and tightened it. She pulled it snug then a notch tighter before slipping the buckle closed.

She kissed the taut curves of his balls and glanced up at him.

“I want your cum. Every last drop.”

The store owner slid down to the floor watching and listening, his hand pumping inside his pants.

The stranger’s cock looked huge now, the skin taut and flushed. He was mostly shaved with a trim narrow path just above the shaft root.

The pink and purple skin tones, the throbbing blue veins were contrasts to the starker black leather strap and the silvery buckle.

Jo’s pursed lips lowered, widened slightly, and engulfed the wide head of his cock in her mouth. Her tongue flicked across his cockhole and she sucked gently, then harder. At the first taste of him, she felt herself drifting into subspace.         She loved gliding her tight wet lips slowly over the head, catching them in a pause at the rim, licking the circle of the rim quickly, and then plunging his mouth all the way to the root of his cock. She slowly dragged her lips back up the shaft and stroked the head in a rhythm with just her tight lips. Long slow sucking down his shaft then quick sucks on the head. Her tongue swirled around the head and when her mouth was filled with his cock, she stretched her tongue out to lick at his tight balls.

When Jo’s tongue brushed over and wetted the leather cocking, the store owner groaned loudly. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m cumming!”

He pulled his cock from his pants and jerked it a few times before shooting thick spurts of cum down his pant leg and on the floor.

The stranger pulled his cock roughly from Jo’s mouth and pulled her leash until she was on her hands and knees. He pulled and guided her over to the store owner’s slumped body.

The stranger pushed Jo’s head down until her nose was an inch from a puddle of cum. She closed her eyes and slowly slid out her tongue. Before the tip touched the cum, he yanked her head backward by the leash.

The store owner’s eyes blinked. He waved a limp hand toward the door.

The stranger kept a tight grip on Jo’s leash as they walked to his home.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he told her several times on the short walk.

“Please,” she answered.

The Hangover Cure By Holly Day

Pete was at the door, banging louder than anyone had a right to at nine in the morning. Anna ran her fingers through her knotted hair as she marched to the door, feeling horribly and defiantly unattractive as she marched to the door in her sweat pants and faded t-shirt. “That was quick,” she said as she let him in, rubbing at some of the cat hair that was sticking to her clothes. As if on cue, Max poked his head from around the corner and proceeded to slithered around her ankles, putting even more cat hair on her than she had just removed.

“That’s a nice cat,” said Pete, leaning down to scratch the big orange tom. Max arched his back in delight and rolled over on Pete’s feet a few moments before running off to hide in the kitchen. Pete straightened up smiled at Anna. “So,” he said, clapping his hands together like he was about to do something important and organized. “You ready for my great hangover cure?”

“Sure,” shrugged Anna. “So long as there are no eggs or tomatoes involved, I’ll try anything.”

“Good,” he said brusquely. He waved at the couch and ordered, “Go ahead and sit down. I’ll be just a minute.”

Anna obediently went to the couch and sat down as Pete went into the kitchen and began opening and closing refrigerator and cabinets doors noisily. “You need any help in there?” she called out, nervous as to exactly what this hangover cure would entail, since she was sure there wasn’t anything but a couple of cans of soup and half a carton of milk left in the kitchen.

“Nope!” answered Pete, poking his head around the corner, waving a frying pan at her. “I’ve got it covered.”

“Sounds good,” said Anna. She was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open. She wondered if Pete would be angry if she just fell asleep while he was making whatever the hell it was that he was making in the kitchen.

“Put this on,” said Pete, suddenly close by. Anna opened her eyes blearily and saw him standing in front of her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a strip of black fabric. “Put it around your head so that your eyes are covered. C’mon,” he said when she started to protest. “It’s part of the cure.”

“Oh, God,” said Anna, taking the piece of cloth from him and tying it around her eyes. “What in the world could you be getting ready to feed me that you don’t even want me to see it?”

Pete laughed and patted her gently on top of her head, like she was a puppy or a stupid child. “Don’t worry,” he said. “This is guaranteed to work.” Anna could hear him walking away once more, heard the front door open for a moment, then close again.

“Shit,” sighed Anna, closing her eyes. The blindfold made everything nice and dark, just like it was nighttime. At least it would be easier to fall asleep with it on than without. “Did you go home already?”

“Nope, I’m still here,” said Pete, very close this time. “I put my bag outside the door so that the cure… ingredients…. would be a surprise. I wouldn’t want you poking around and discovering all my secrets this early on.”

Suddenly, cold hands slid up under Anna’s sweatshirt, up her stomach and gently cupping her breasts. She jumped back a little bit, suddenly very awake. “Whoa,” she said, reaching up to pull off her blindfold. One of the hands moved away from her breast to stop her hand and push it gently back down to her side.

“Shh,” said Pete. “It’s my world-famous hangover cure.” He kissed her, prying apart her sticky lips and licking all the early-morning fuzz from the inside of her mouth and even her teeth. His tongue filled her mouth to capacity, his kiss sucked the air out of her until she felt light-headed and empty. She closed her eyes and lay back against the couch  feeling his mouth move from her lips to her neck, his gigantic hands squeezing her breasts almost too hard.

“This is your cure?” she giggled when she could catch her breath again. “I have to warn you, I’m a real lousy lay when I’ve been drinking, and even worse the next morning.”

“Shh,” said Pete again. Anna felt him tug at her pants, and instinctively grabbed one of his hands. He stopped tugging and said, close to her ear, “Any time you want me to leave, just take the blindfold off. Doesn’t matter what I’m doing it, if I’m in the middle of it and you take it off, I’m gone.”

“Okay,” answered Anna. She let go of his hand and let him tug her cat-hair-covered sweat pants all the way off, sliding them down to her ankles and slipping them off over her feet, one at a time. Anna waited to feel the hands that would pull her t-shirt up over her head, preparing herself to help keep the blindfold from slipping off with the shirt, but it never happened. He left her socks alone as well, so that her feet were warm and comfortable while the tiny hairs on her legs stood up in goosebumps from the drafty apartment, making her feel a little like she did when she was at the gynecologist’s, naked save for a paper gown and a pair of rolled-down tube socks.

“Open,” Pete ordered, pulling her knees gently apart with his incredibly warm hands. Everywhere he touched on her skin grew warmer simply from being in contact with him, and Anna wished he would touch other parts of her that weren’t so warm, like her chilly calves, or the naked parts high on her thighs that seemed to catch just about every breeze in the apartment. She could just imagine how wonderful it would feel to have him simply rub her legs up and down with those gigantic, warm hands, like the way she’d seen people do to hyperthermia victims on TV, how they would warm her whole body up, put her right to sleep.

She was so engrossed in thinking about how nice it would feel to be so comfortably warm that when he put his finger in her, she actually jumped a little in surprise. The finger disappeared, and Pete asked, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” waved Anna, angry at herself for scaring him and his finger away. “It just startled me. I wasn’t expecting it, for some reason, although that sounds like a really stupid thing to not expect.”

“Good,” said Pete, and this time, she felt his mouth on her cunt, his tongue pushing the lips of her labia apart and finding her clit. She floundered with her arms until she found his head between her legs. Her immediate impulse was to push him hard into her crotch, but, instead settled on patting the top of his head, tousling his hair a bit in the confusion, before putting both her hands behind her head and burying them in her hair where they couldn’t get into any more trouble. She grabbed her own hair tightly and pulled until her fingernails dug into her palm, spreading her legs apart to that nothing down there could possibly be neglected.

Pete continued his steady lapping, settling into an obvious but pleasant reinterpretation of the alphabet, moving fluidly from a distinguishable “A” to a slightly-muddled “B” and an almost useless “C,” and back again with a very effective “D.” Around “G”, he stuck his finger into her one more, a little rough, a little fast. Anna winced, immediately trying to make her expression look more like ecstasy than mild annoyance, trying to ignore the jagged hangnail she could feel dragging against her insides as he did so.

A few moments later, the finger disappeared. Anna could hear paper rustling, some shuffling, more rustling. The tongue disappeared, and something thin and cold slithered inside of her, about as thick as a finger but much longer. Pete pushed against he until the thing as deep as it could go, warming up as it retracted, and back in again, deep enough that Pete’s knuckles pressed against her clit, his fist wrapped around the thing inside her. Then the tongue was back, picking up where it left off, and Anna clenched her muscles around the hard, cold object, wishing she had more.

Almost as though he could read her mind, Pete pulled the thing all the way out of her, and replaced with another cold object at least twice as big as the first. Anna felt her insides spreading around the thing, wider until she was almost positive that whatever the thing was, it wasn’t supposed to go inside her. Pete pushed her legs open even more, throwing one of them over his shoulder as he worked, and resumed licking at her engorged clitoris, gently pulling and pushing on the oversized object lodged inside her just a little bit in, just a little bit out, until she was wet enough to take the whole thing in.

Anna felt the orgasm starting up deep inside her, felt the walls of her cunt  bucking helplessly, her head full of fireworks as her muscles exploded. Pete held the object in place as her body tried to push it out of her with the force of her climaxing, held it in place until she was lying back against the couch, hands twitching, toes digging into the short acrylic carpet fibers. “You want another one?” he asked from somewhere far away. “Are you ready?”

“Gu,” said Anna, waving one of her hands vaguely, unable to speak. “Hm,” she added. Pete apparently took this as a yes and set to work all over again, patiently reapplying lube to his fingers and the dildo as Anna drifted in an out of consciousness, exhausted, wondering if he would take offense if she just fell asleep while he was diddling her. After a while, she came again, not as explosively this time, but longer and more beautifully. A sunrise flooded the corners of her tightly-closed eyelids, cartoon birds twittered in her ears, and Pete was gently shaking her shoulder, asking if she was okay.

“I’m fine,” she said, nodding emphatically. “Why?”

“You just got so quiet there,” he said. Anna felt him touch her hair, and then the blindfold was off. “I thought maybe you’d passed out or something. Girls do that sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I know,” she said, grinning. “Nope, I’m here. I’m okay.”

“How’s your hangover?” he asked. He leaned in and kissed her long and hard, and if she hadn’t been so completely worn out from the waist down, she would have totally fucked him.  “I find cunilingus really is the very best hangover cure,” he added.

“So much better than tomato juice or raw eggs,” agreed Anna. She put her arms around his neck and hugged him as gratefully as she could without giving the impression that she actually wanted to have sex. “I do so love being a girl!” she whispered in his ear before falling back down on the couch and drifting off to sleep.