Erotica

Submission- story 2

2006-04-25T19:22:00.000-07:00

Part One

He walked with a slight limp down the street, his shoulder bag briefcase hanging uncomfortably from his left arm. It was almost six, work had sucked, and he walked on account of his car being in the shop- some idiot on 32^nd street’s fault. The fax machine was broken, the primitive internet server kept failing, and the secretary kept calling out sick for no reason. He laughed suddenly for no apparent reason, and despite work, he was not feeling too discontent. He saw a sign reading “Quit now!” and smiled. Not everything was that simple, especially when you like it. Getting closer, he realizes the sign is for cigarettes. He doesn’t smoke those so he shrugs it off. People are expected to be perfect, to do things simply as they are told He sighed. But what if you aren’t perfect, why do they still expect it?

The next left would be his apartment complex. He looked toward it from his current position at the corner. A frown strains and mangles his face. Emptiness was all that awaited him at that end of the city; nothing but numb worrying about what family would think, what they would say, what Jean would be wondering. Jean was his bitch of a girlfriend for too many years. He wasn’t that old, but he’d felt stuck with her for centuries. Either way, he did not turn left towards his apartment.

He feels a low pang in his lower stomach, constructed mostly of guilt and embarrassment. “If only these people knew were I was going...” he mumbles to himself after noting the thickness of the mass of bodies on the sidewalk. He walks anxiously until he reaches a different apartment complex and descends the basement stairs to house number 1812. The thick smell of marijuana hits him and he laughs, loosening his muscles. A woman wearing a black latex corset, thigh-high fishnets, and black underwear approaches him.

“Hello, Loretta” his voice had changed, to something more childlike; excited but fearful.

She slaps him with her bare right hand and he notes the foggy sound of a television from the other side of the room. A whip dangles from her left fingers.

“I half expected you to be earlier” she said with a sly grin. The clock, through the smoke, read 6:45.

“I got caught up-“

“You got caught up standing at the corner trying to decide where you wanted to really be”

“I’m sorry” He stared at the floor.

“You can not resist me?” She was not mocking him.

“You are irresistible.” He says warmly

She leans in, grabbing his loose brown hair and running her fingers though it. There was a deep passion in the way she touched him, and a painful caring love about the way he received it. One walking outside would have seen a whip raised in the air, only slightly masked by a layer of smoke, before the warm basement door was shut, blocking off light to the room;

Ultimately masking it from reality

And leaving reality to its ignorant bliss.

Part Two

The basement door shuts, encapsulating the man and woman in a dark room, only tangible though dull light that hangs and sticks in the air. The room is hot and red-orange, exotic and frightening, but sensual with softer undertones. He recoils at the slap of the whip to his abdomen. His heavy shoulder bag slips from his shoulder and tumbles to his feet. The woman, Loretta, cracks the whip again, this time striking the shoulder on his half-recoiled body. He falls and she steps back. She is horribly striking with long hair, curling in, a sharply defined jaw and piercing black eyes. Her figure is curvy and tight, showing a toned stomach. Her skin is soft and slightly pale. She is not young, but is neither noticeably old. She is ageless and shocking.

Sweat glitters on the man’s forehead as he raises his face to see her. She comes down hard with the whip, leaving a bright red stripe across his cheek. He closes his eyes and turns away. How could he let things get the way they are? How could he keep denying what he wanted, what he needed? How stupid could he be? Tears form in his eyes and roll down his face. Loretta steps forward, dropping the whip and taking his head in her hands. She momentarily feels sympathy, but she knows that he doesn’t want sympathy. The man, looking up briefly, sees her reach around and unclip rope from her garter- something he had not noticed before. She sees him and smiles as she reaches behind him and ties his right hand. She stands and pulls on the rope for him to move back; he gets up and moves to the cold stone wall where he sees a chair bolted to the floor. She pushes him with surprising strength and he collapses. Here she proceeds to wrap some of the rope around the right leg of the bolted chair before restraining his other wrist, the left, to the left chair leg. He pulls a little and knows he can not escape. The rope feels tight and rough against his skin and he enjoys it. He sits on the floor, anxiously awaiting her next move. She stands and walks away, returning with two blind folds. She folds the first and wraps it around his eyes, tightly around his head. The second she folds and ties around his mouth, a weak substitute for a ball gag, but easier to hear the screaming. A wave of fright washes over the man, his simple childish emotions kick in and level him to an age closer to his own- and not what people see him as. Loretta turns around and produces more rope. This ties his neck to the chair, restraining from freely moving much of his upper torso. His head moves around when she steps back to look at him. He suddenly worries she has left him until he feels the sting of the whip on his face again; Then his shoulders, stomach, inner thighs. She stops abruptly and walks away. The next sensation the man feels is the cold metal of scissors on his chest as she cuts his shirt off, exposing a naked upper half. He is soft and well-built naked, a feature not noticeable with clothing on. The scissors drop and she runs her hands lightly down his chest, stopping to undo his belt and pants. She pulls them off half-way, pausing at he kicks his shoes off.

“Willing, are we?” she muses. He smiles through the gag; she steps back a bit, unsnaps her garters and removes the fishnets. She throws them to the floor and moves down to take off her underwear, first snapping the sides to let him know she is still here, and, relatively, what she is doing. She steps forward, feeling the cold floor with her bare feet, and stands over him, placing her naked ankles in his tied hands. He fees the warm touch of her skin and grips her tightly. She leans toward his face, placing her naked lower half to his mouth. He smiles and extends his warm wet tongue on her clit, allowing her to direct him and showing him suddenly the restriction of the rope around his neck. He moves his head and mouth forward and up as she grabs his hair and moans. His tongue is soft and gentle, with forceful wet heat that presses against her naked body. He clenches her ankles and goes harder, tongue still soft, but moving faster. His erection, hardly noticeable before, now becomes quite obvious though his boxers. She notices and comes down with a sharp blow to the side of his head. He jerks to the side, retained in the tiny radial area of the rope. Loretta moves back, sitting on his outstretched knees. She leans forward and kisses his mouth over the gag before punching him in the stomach. He tries to recoil and curl forward, but the rope digs into his hands and neck. His erection grows as the sting of the rope sets in. Her nails caress his pink neck and scratch down his shoulders. Her hands reach his and she clasps them, banding down and biting his inner thigh, now exposed by his boxers. His muscles tighten but he takes the pain. She unclenches her teeth and, letting her breath touch his chest, moves up to his shoulder. She bites down hard again into his bare flesh. He tenses again, feeling the warmth of her body with the intense pain. She bites harder and his fists clench. Her upper body moves close to worsen the inflicted wound. Blood trickles down his shoulder and she stops to lick the bite, cupping her hands on his lower stomach. She sucks on his shoulder and lifts her head to lick the underside of his chin. In what seems a moment of helpless abandon, she lurches to her left where she’d previously thrown the scissors with his clothing. In his blind state he is confused but quiet. She leans back to him and cuts the rope around his neck. He gasps, grateful for the oxygen. She cuts the rope on his hands and the makeshift gag. He strains out a mere “Hunh?” before she shoves her tongue down his throat. He receives it passionately, with only a hint of surprise, and caresses her back with his free hands, looking to take the corset off. He unties the ribbon laced up the back, loosening it. She raises her arms in the air, still kissing him, and he pulls it over her head, exposing her body now in full nudity. His hands run up and down her spine and she pushes her naked chest onto his. In another burst of energy and a sound of anxiety, she juts back and pulls his boxers off with fluid speed. She turns fast and thrusts herself, legs open, toward his rigid naked body. He, still blindly, pushes her forward and slides into her, warm, comfortable, shocking and electric. She slides her hands through his hair, removing the blindfold. His eyes are red, sensitive and childlike. His look is expressionless except for his eyes that seem to hold a fire and an emotion that language as it is cannot express. He thrusts forward, slipping deeper into her body. She thrusts with him, into him and gasps, throwing her head back, balancing herself by grabbing his shoulders, and arching her back. The feeling of his wound exercises his excitement; he winces and smiles, not making a sound. She jerks back again, leaning nearly to the floor and feeling the pressure of his dick full-force on the whole area of the g-spot. She moans and he thrusts farther into her again, using her hips for leverage, letting him lead her onto him. Her hands claw the floor and the man, realizing the situation, swiftly moves from his sitting position to on top of her, kneeling and thrusting himself into her. He moves soft at first, but goes faster, faster, harder and the pleasure felt by both of them pulses in their bodies, it pulses in the room, pulsing pulsing. They are hot and nearly unbalanced. All at once he looks at her and pins her left wrist to the ground, hitting her hard with his right hand. She twitches and he quickly pins her right hand. Their breathing gets heavier and he starts moving slower but harder. He accentuates each thrust and he makes it count, rhythmically pounding himself inside of her and causing her to yell out in reckless submission.

Her body becomes hot and rigid. The man moves to her shoulders, pinning her but giving more control of her motions. Warmth rushes through their bodies and the man’s grip tightens. He lets out hot heavy breaths and starts to brace himself instinctively. He tightens his grip more and again again he thrusts again. She can feel him hard, rippling inside of her body. Hot chills run through her body, and she tenses; her breaths deepen and become more severe. It comes slowly; she gasps as heat overwhelms her body, exploding a seismic wave of hot electric energy that circulates and expels through her fingertips. The man holds his breath as muscles tighten and hot sparks are shot through his system. His eyes close and his grip on her shoulders tightens again. She gasps again, tears of blinding pleasure form in front of her tightly shut eyes and she screams. Their bodies seize and the fire dies down, fading slowly and peacefully. His body collapses, moving down to her and rolling to her side. There is a moment of silence where they stare at the ceiling, learning how to breathe. A new cold floods the room and descends like a wave of mist on their bodies. She blinks and lets out a moan; satisfied, overwhelmed, and fucked to the most amazing definition of the word. He lays there smiling, for his mind allows him to think of nothing but what he had just experienced. He feels completely at home, and he is happy and satisfied.

“I…I’ve never let anyone control me like that” Loretta cries out suddenly.

The man laughs and rolls half way to look at her. She refuses to look back.

“Did you enjoy it?” He said with a smile and the raise of an eyebrow.

She pouts and smiles.

He laughs, falling into her chest. She closes her eyes and laughs with him, wrapping her arms around his head.

The laughing fades slowly as the energy in the room diminishes. Their eyes flutter and they start to drift off. Loretta looks down.

“I love you, Michael” she whispers.

He smiles and looks up into her eyes.

“I love you too, Loretta”
And they drift off to sleep on the cool basement floor.

Part Three

At 9pm he is fully dressed and standing in her doorway. She looks at him and smiles; he blushes and stares at the floor. He feels like a little kid. He was happy, though, intensely so, like he wanted to jump in circles and scream.

She cups her hands around his jaw and gently lifts his head. She smiles.

“Goodnight, Michael”

He stares at the floor again and she jerks his head up violently. They laugh.

“Goodnight, Loretta” He can’t stop smiling.

He moves to go but turns and embraces her tightly, which she returns as if she expected him to do so. The notion lingers as he slips away- out the door, to the street - and Loretta, not taking her eyes off of him, lingers at her door until he is out of sight.

Michael walks home with a skip in his step and a smile on his face. To the narrator’s surprise, he feels no guilt, no remorse, no shame or embarrassment. The sky darkens as he approaches his apartment complex. He does not hesitate in going in, nor does he really think about it at all. There are eighteen messages on his phone from Jean demanding his whereabouts, but he erases them. The door shuts and he is left thinking- smiling and thinking, trapped in a beautiful, colorful, euphoric state of mind. The lock on his door clicks and the story ends.

Submission- story 1

2006-04-25T17:14:00.000-07:00

Submission

I walked you down the stairs to the basement, something that gave your stomach a jump, and scared you at the same time. You never know what to expect when you are with me, and maybe that’s why you enjoy it so much. The stairs creaked with every step I took, for you were leaning on me, helpless and bruised. But you were smiling at me and I knew it was ok to continue.
Once at the place I desired, I stood you up. You had regained a lot of your energy from nights before surprisingly fast, but still you fell to your knees and stared up at me.
“Take off your clothes. Now”
Your eyes glint in the poor light of the basement, “Yes, Master” and you remove you clothes, all the time never staring me in the eyes.
“Give me your hands.”
You nodded and held your wrists together above your head. “Yes, Master”
“Good boy, now stand up”
You stand, shaky, with anticipation and fear. You don’t look up but you hear the chains above your head, and you know too well that your hands were being suspended on the metal pipes on the ceiling. You laugh at this; a simple ‘heh’ was all I needed to set me off. I step towards the far wall, grab my whip, and lash at your back.
Smack. A red mark streaks your right shoulder, Smack, again, except this time on the left.
You lift your head, trying to see me over your shoulder
Smack. You’re hit in the back of the head. It stings, and you realize how sore your back is. You hear the whip crack more times. Smack…Smack…
You wince in pain, but it gives you such pleasure that you’d rather die than have me stop. You feel the whip again. But this time, you are conscious of the blood running down your back. I stop and you are worried. You don’t know where I am, and you are too weak to break free from the chains. You heart beats faster, with the idea of me being gone. You can’t hear me and you jump when you feel my fingers caressing your shoulder, and my breath on your neck. I trace the wounds on your back, softly enough that you don’t know if you’re really feeling it at all. I kiss the back of your neck, and the feeling is a shocking heat in contrast to the cold basement. You hear the whip hit the floor, and feel my hands, strongly now, at your hips. Your stomach jumps again, surprised, for I have never done this before. You are confused, you don’t know how to feel, for no one has told you how to feel, but there is a difference about this…emotion. It’s the most living gentle thing you’ve ever gotten close to feeling.
You feel my hands wrap around your waist, and the kissing of your neck has turned into biting and licking. You feel my tongue brush against the scars on your neck, and then nothing. My hands are slipping away and you are blushing at the weakness you had shown.
You believe you have failed some sort of test, until your feel me move again, now in front of you, crawling across your lower stomach. You shiver and beg to me “Please, please master..” And before your could finish the sentence you feel my lips on yours. Your muscles tense in want of self-discipline, but you can’t control it. My body is pressed up against you now, my hands snake around your neck. You feel my tongue in your mouth, a warm comfort that you will never forget. And it starts out slowly, until I gets harder, my fingers run through your hair, grabbing your head and keeping it where I want. You feel nearly choked but still you can’t control yourself at all. You have completely succumbed yourself to me, and you are hopelessly weakened.
Then it slows, I stop and pull away, dragging my hands down your chest. Your vision is more defined now, and you watch me undress in front of you. Your eyes widen in pleasure, but you see something in my eyes like pity, as a tear traces the lining of my face. I move closer again, and I unlock the chains on your hands. Surprised, you fall on top of me, pinning me to the floor, hands on the floor beside my head, you lift yourself up. I stare into your eyes, and you in mine. It is a moment when you realize what I really want, and I smile as you slip inside of me. I can feel you inside of my body, and our bodies are instantly filled with a white hot heat, and our hearts begin to beat together.
You are not afraid of me, and this time I have no intention of hurting you; and you keep going, moving, faster and faster until I feel as if I could no longer take it. I feel it coming on, and I sense you do to. My fingers move through your hair, grabbing hold, and I tilt my head up so our foreheads are touching.
“Keep going, oh my god, keep going, please”
You pay no mind to me, and you continue as you were before but this time it’s harder. I pray for some release, and as it slowly comes, my hands lock stiff on your hair and I scream. I have no control over you anymore, and I have no control over myself. I keep screaming, trying to breathe, but I’m overcome with such blinding pleasure that I can’t think anymore. Before I know it, the pleasure dies down, I learn how to breathe again and I collapse on the ground, weak and completely unable to think anymore. You pull out and stand up, and I look up to see you staring down at me.
“Get up” you say to me
I look at you with eyes containing complete submission. I say in a voice unfamiliar to before, “Y-yes Master”