This is a work of adult fiction and should be read only by adults.
It is also my work. Although I receive no compensation other than
your comments, it is still my work. Please respect this and do not
repost it somewhere else without talking to me first about it. If
you are not allowed to read works with sexual content, either due to
your age or by virtue of the laws in the geographical location in
which you reside, please do not continue.
Enjoy, and if you're so inclined, please let me know what you think.
Alexis (ealexissiefert@yahoo.com)
~~~~~~~~~
Better than Chamomile {FF cons rom anal toys oral light BDSM)
It's one of those rare, perfect days. The sun is out, and it's warm
but not oppressive. I'm "lizarding" this afternoon, sunning myself on
the concrete. The heat reflects up off the pool water, and I can
feel my skin starting to cook. Being of close Irish descent, I don't
actually "tan." It's more of a roasting-thing; however, the warmth
has made me uncharacteristically lazy, and my body doesn't seem to be
willing to listen to the rational thoughts my brain is sending--
something about blisters, freckles, and eventual wrinkles. "Well," I
sigh to myself; "one has to take occasional risks."
I force my eyes open when I hear the rusty hinge on the gate protest
opening. I can tell by your gait that the day didn't go the way you
had planned. I'm sure that you 'look' the same as always, but I can
see the tiniest of creases between your eyes. There is a tension in
your shoulders; your suit, normally so beautifully draped around your
body, hangs awkwardly.
"Rough day?" You nod almost imperceptibly. "I'm sorry, darling."
"Not your fault."
"I know, but I wish I could make it better for you. C'mere." With
you standing before me, I reach up to unzip your skirt and slide it
down over your hips. Your thighs are perfectly outlined by the
elastic-lace tops of your thigh-high stockings, and with my thumbs I
hook under the waistband of your panties, holding the fabric as you
step delicately out of them. I lean forward to give your thigh a
quick kiss. "Mmmm. Getting better. Now, sit dear."
I pat the soft mat next to mine on the concrete. As you sit, I
quickly open the buttons of your tailored jacket and sensible white
silk blouse and slip them over your shoulders. Then with a practiced
flick of my thumb and forefinger, I open the front clasp of your pink
bra. My fingertips graze the hollow of your collarbone, and I smile
at the slight shiver that causes your skin to tremble.
"Lie back and close your eyes."
I sit behind you and cradle your head between my knees. I stroke
your temples, holding your head in my palms, and using my thumbs to
stroke your eyelids, gently pressing to release the stress. Using
delicate pressure on your forehead, I lower your head to rest on my
bare inner thigh. My fingers stroke through your silken hair, and my
nails gently scratch your scalp. I fan your mahogany hair over my
leg, marveling at the contrast between the midnight darkness of your
locks and your perfect tan and the delicate paleness of my skin.
I softly stroke your lips with my fingertip, moaning almost
imperceptibly as you suck them between your lips. I sigh airily as
your mouth surrounds my two fingers. I lean over you, bending down to
graze your mouth with mine, and my moistened fingers drift down to
fondle your taut nipple.
Your tongue searches for mine, and my lips part to press roughly
against yours. My tongue snakes out, tasting your mouth, pushing
through your wet lips. I roughly tweak your nipple with my fingers,
feeling it harden and extend under my fingers. I smile to myself as
I feel, hear your sharp intake of breath. I grasp your hair with my
other hand, my fingers buried in your scalp, pulling your head back,
exposing your throat.
Separating my mouth from yours, I nibble at your vulnerable throat.
I can feel your pulse under my lips. Matching its rhythm, I begin to
pull at your hardened nipple, rolling it between my fingers. You
moan slightly, and your arms out, up around my hips, coming
to rest on the sun-warmed skin of my ass.
Your lips begin to move silently as you struggle to form words
through the haze I know is beginning to fill your brain. I also know
how strung out you are after days like this. I know how much you
hate being the calm one at the office, having to smooth things out
for everyone else. I know how hard it is for you to be in charge all
day, taking the flak, protecting your underlings from the stresses
from above. I know what you want, what you need. But you won't get
it until you're ready to ask for it.
I straighten my torso, and lift myself up, throwing one leg over
your body and straddling your chest. My breath catches in my throat
when I feel your brush against my sensitive inner thighs. I
release your hair and reach between my spread thighs with both hands,
using my fingertips to tug both nipples, smiling as they lengthen
under my pressure.
Your voice reaches my ears, almost a whimper, "Please, darling,
please don't be easy. Please drive this day from me."
My tongue wets my lower lip, hearing your reluctant plea. I nod to
you softly, knowingly. Then, I shake my head slowly and whisper, "Of
course. But first..."
"Anything, love."
I rise up on my knees, and turn so that I am above your face,
centered over your parted lips. Slowly I lower my hips, pushing my
shaven against your mouth. I grind myself against your lips.
I can feel your tongue reach deep into me; sucking, licking,
desperate to taste my orgasm.
My voice is a low growl through clenched teeth, "Make me cum,
quickly."
Your teeth scrape my skin, biting and nipping at my hardened clit.
I begin to shake, and I buck my hips against you roughly, fucking
your mouth with my dripping pussy. Your head moves with each thrust,
matching my tempo. The bare skin of my sex smears juices over your
lips. My back arches as my thighs clench around your head; spasms
wrack my body. My hair thrashes against my bare back, and you reach
up to pull my tresses, arching my back further, forcing me harder
through my orgasm. I moan deeply. As the last violent wave passes
through me, I shake my head to clear it. My vision sharpens again,
and I look down at your face between my legs. Your perfect mouth and
chin are covered, glistening.
"Now," I say to you fondly, "you asked for something, didn't you?"
I scoot backwards down your body, watching your skin glisten as my
juices wipe over your taut, tanned skin. I leave your body wet with
my as my clit rubs and scrapes over your skin. When I reach your
wonderful feet, I stand, looking down over you, and move quickly
around you, stopping at your head.
Reaching down, I grasp your wrists together, quickly binding them
with a rough length of nylon cord left over from some repairs we made
to the pool furniture.
I've caught you by surprise, I know, and your eyes widen when I
secure your arms to the post of the overhanging awning. We've played
rough before, but you're always the stronger one. However, desperate
times call for desperate measures, as they say, and you looked fairly
desperate when you walked through the gate this afternoon.
Your neck cranes backwards as you try to see what I have planned for
you. I leave your arms stretched above your body and move back
around to your legs, smiling a slightly wicked smile. I grasp your
right ankle and wrap it in a long length of cord, securing it also to
a post of the patio covering. With another cord, I quickly fasten
your left ankle to the metal ring sunk into the concrete of the pool.
When we had the rings installed, it was to ensure that we had some
way to fasten down the pool cover during the winter months. I wish I
had thought of them sooner for this alternate purpose.
Fastened so, your legs are spread obscenely wide, almost to the
point that I know would be uncomfortable were you not flexible from
daily yoga stretching. As I step back, I admire your sex, exposed as
it is to the air, exposed completely were I to invite the neighbors
for a peek.
Your eyes are wide open, and I can tell that you're actually a bit
frightened. Perhaps unsure of who this person in your home really
is? "Hmmm," I think to myself, "interesting."
"Simone, what are you doing?" Your voice is almost imperceptible,
and I cock my head to hear you better. Your heave slightly,
glistening with sweat and desire under the warmth of the sun.
Stretched as you are, your nipples are pointed to the sky, hard
little nubs betraying your desire in spite of your doubt.
I stand above you, my feet planted on either side of your perfect
chest. The heat of the sun-warmed concrete under my soles travels up
my body as I slowly lower myself until I'm squatting above your
chest. I place one finger over your lips and say softly, "I'm only
doing what you asked, dear. I've often wondered what it would be
like to be on the other side of this position. To be the one wielding
the strength instead of the one receiving it."
I stand, moving back until I'm standing at your feet, between your
splayed legs, gazing down at your spread slit. You're completely
open to me, exposed and vulnerable. I reach for the table behind us
and lift a wide leather strap. It was meant to be a surprise for
you, a new toy for you to wield. "No matter," I think. "I can break
it in just as easily as you would have."
Your body begins to tremble as I run the strap over my palm, feeling
the supple leather smooth against my hand. Quickly, with a flick of
my wrist, I bring it down on your inner thigh, hearing it crack
softly against your skin. The wide strip that appears so
suddenly on your skin brings a smile to my lips. My other hand
strokes my own inner thigh, remembering the delightful feel of
similar welts you've raised there.
To suppress your vain struggling against the bindings, I quickly
bring the strap down over your other thigh, making a twin stripe on
the soft flesh of your tender inner leg. My own body shivers, both
in sympathy for your pain and in delight with the unfamiliar pleasure
of controlling you.
I let the strap dangle from my hand, loosely swinging to the rhythm
of the music coming from the poolside speakers. Soft strains of
Sarah Brightman's _Il Mio Cuore Va_ drift past us, subduing our
voices as we unconsciously match the perfect almost-silence of her
song. The strap strokes gently between your legs, sending obvious
tremors through your body. I let it stroke over your swollen clit,
gently, slowly. My wrist snaps almost imperceptibly and the rough
leather tip catches your pearl. Firmly striking, not too hard, but
enough to reward myself with your quiet yelp.
I need to reassure myself that you're enjoying this; that I'm not
taking you too far on your first venture under the strap. I bend my
knees to dip my fingers into your pussy, and I shake my head at the
wetness forming there, watching it begin to drip from your spread
cunt. It's starting to pool on the ground between your tight ass
cheeks, and I know from experience that you can feel it heating up on
the warm concrete beneath you.
Your eyes meet mine, but they're barely focused. You've started to
drift into that hazy place, the need has begun to fill you, and
desire is taking over your rational thoughts. In answer to your
unspoken plea, I use my thumb to push against your clit, grinding it,
pulling a loud moan from your throat. Two fingers push roughly
inside of you as my thumb continues its slow circles.
With my other hand, the one wielding the strap, I flick my wrist
again, bringing the tip of the strap across your tight, hard nipples,
leaving rough stripes over both beautiful breasts.
The pain obviously brings some focus back to your brain, and you
groan. "Please, Simone, please...don't stop..."
I pull my fingers, dripping with the juice from your pussy, and
without pausing roughly shove both of them into your tight ass, still
grinding your clit with my thumb. I pump your rosette with my
fingers, spreading them inside of you, opening your ass to my hands.
I smile as I watch you writhe, knowing that with each pull on the
ropes they bind more tightly around your wrists and ankles.
Wet with your own lust, your own juice, I add a third finger deep
inside your tight asshole. The warm, buttery channel opens to me,
forced to mold around my fingers. I spread my three fingers to force
your tightest open further, twisting them until you remain
slightly dilated when I pull my fingers from your opening.
Despite your desire, evidenced by the juice still pouring from your
cunt, you moan, "please, no more."
I shake my head and softly whisper, "Oh no, dear, that's not in the
play. I believe your words were, 'anything, love.' You know that I
take things very literally." A smile forms on my lips as your body
relaxes just slightly, I know you've given yourself over to me. I
use my palm to slap your swollen, hard clit, hearing my strike echo.
I pivot and bend over to loosen the rope around your ankles, adding
some slack to the cord. Your lips silently mouth a 'thank you,' but
they clench shut as I swiftly wrap the bindings around your knees,
pulling them up to your chest. I can tell you're debating whether or
not to protest this change, but I move quickly, before you can
formulate the complaint forming in your mind. I use additional
lengths of cord around your knees, binding them up and spread, the
rope extending to your wrists, leaving you helpless on your back with
your knees spread wide.
I stand and return to the table, taking from it a large double-
headed dildo. It's a favorite of yours, I know, but not normally
from this vantage-point. Pausing over you, I slowly work one end into
my dripping pussy, then I kneel between your spread legs and finger
your open asshole. A touch of cool gel over your opening, then
forced deep into your hole, still dilated from my fingers. I place
the huge tip of the dildo at your opening and start to push. I can
feel the resistance of your tight muscle ring as the dildo is forced
deeper into my own aching pussy. Your groan fills my ears as your
body begins to shake. Through half-closed eyes I can see your head
slowly thrashing as I push, forcing the huge fake-cock through your
hole. It's too big for you, I know. You're not usually the recipient
of anal activity when we're together, but I also know that you'll
adapt. You're strong.
The vision of your ass blooming around the rubber cock head is
magical. My head begins to spin with the waves of orgasm, and I
begin to moan as your resistance fucks the cock deeper into my
wanting, craving pussy. Slowly, pushing, until, with an audible
"pop" the head is through the tight, formerly resistant muscle.
Your scream surrounds us, but I can hear that it's a scream of
release, of pleasure. I can feel your legs strain against the cords,
fighting to straighten; your body struggling against the intrusion,
until you finally relax, giving in completely to me. I begin to
thrust faster, taking myself to the edge of my own orgasm, holding
myself there, denying my own pleasure until you can travel there with
me. My fingers begin to dance over your rock-hard clit, pulling you
along with me, the orgasm from your sore, tired, and now-
wounded body. Your thighs clench, and I can see the bulge of your
jaw as your body tenses, stiffens. Your shudders cause the dildo to
vibrate within me, and I'm forced over the edge. My vision blurs
until I'm aware only of your cries of pleasure mingling with my own.
It's an eternity before the world returns, and even then it comes
back in pieces. The gentle lapping of the water against the tile-
lined pool side is what finally draws me back to our reality. I look
down at you, your body slack, spent, and I slowly draw the monstrous
dildo from your ass. As it pulls from your body, I lean over you to
kiss your perfect lips. I whisper into your mouth.
"Now, dearest, tell me about your day."
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