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.


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…


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:

The book is available now!

The printed book is available here:

The ebook version in several formats is available here:

Coming soon to Kindle!

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?

Barbara’s Waterboarding By Sandy George

Barbara lay on her back on the waterboard, her wrists manacled under it. She didn’t know how she got there. She only remembered sitting at the stylish bar in the hotel when the bartender came over with a drink for her. He said a man had bought it for her because she was a beautiful girl. Her only other memory was a vague one about getting into a luxurious car.

Even though she was blindfolded, he knew she was on a waterboard because her Tormentor had tipped her up and her head had gone underwater. She had felt like she was going to drown then felt the unimaginable pain of inhaling water into her lungs. She knew her Tormentor was a man because she had heard him speak, a deep, resonant baritone that made her moist between her legs. She wished he would come back and talk to her again; maybe he wouldn’t hurt her next time. She heard a noise, a scraping followed by a footfall. She knew the Tormentor didn’t walk like that. It must be someone else.

Suddenly she felt something between her thighs, something hard and cold. It moved up between her thighs until it reached her cunt. Then it pressed firmly against her lips, pushing them apart and entering her. It must be an enormous dildo. She cried out as it was forced into her, stretching her more than she thought she could be stretched. She begged whoever was doing it to stop; she was afraid she would rip, and the pain was becoming unbearable. Then it did become unbearable as the dildo was revolved while in her, the massive head ploughing in a circle inside her cunt and she screamed. Then she heard the laugh. It was a sniveling snicker sounding like fingernails scratching sandpaper. The rotation stopped and the dildo was jerked out of her, hurting her, but what followed was worse. She heard the awful laugh again as she felt his fingers press against her anus, and she realized he was smearing a creamy substance on and in it. The fingers went away and the dildo returned, shoved hard against her ass. Again she screamed, out of fright this time, as the huge tool was jammed remorselessly into her. Again she felt like she would tear, but the lubricant kept that from happening. The head was now inside her and the revolving began again. It wasn’t as bad as it had been inside her pussy, and in revolving it passed over her spot, giving her a surge of stimulation. Then she felt fingers at her cunt and a hand pushed inside her abruptly. It reached her spot from that side and it and the dildo worked it together. She couldn’t keep from responding to the implacable assault, and was bucking and thrusting against the hand and the tool inside her. She felt the climax building, then washing over her in savage waves until she collapsed, limp. The abuse didn’t stop. She was so sensitive now that it was unbearable, but the hand pulled out and pinched her clit hard. She screamed but the pinching continued, now jacking up and down the clit’s tiny shaft. Then she felt the board tip, and once again her head was underwater. She held her breath as long as she could, but the stimulation of her clit made her gasp and the water came in. The pain in her lungs and the anoxia from not being able to breathe morphed into an explosion as a massive wave roared through her. Her mind drifted; she had almost passed out.

With relief she felt the board tip up and heard the shuffling footsteps fade away. Then softer steps were coming toward her. Could it be her Tormentor? Yes! His deep voice commanded her to spread her legs. Drowsily, she complied. She felt him over her, kissing her breasts, each in turn. His hand closed over her mound, softly squeezing her sore pussy, then caressing inside her labia. She moaned as she responded to him, her nipples growing inside his mouth. He pulled her closer to him, and she felt his enormous cock pressing against her cunt. He entered her slowly, as she felt her pussy contracting around him. He pushed his cock completely inside her, and began slow, excruciatingly exciting strokes, moving almost completely out of her, then impaling her all the way as she quivered beneath him. In spite of the soreness of her clit, she started to heave up toward him, taking him as deeply as she could. She began to feel her climax building as he increased the pace of his thrusts, his balls thumping against her ass. As her climax grew she felt his prick swell and then his semen gushed inside her. It made her come now, her body wrenching in ecstasy as she clutched him deep inside her. He stayed in her until her body slowly calmed, then he withdrew gently and kissed her mouth. He unshackled her wrists and she could hear him leaving. She removed the blindfold and saw a stooped old man’s back as he went out the door. Before it closed she heard him laugh, a sniveling snicker.