Sex stories

Short sex stories




A Rose for Victoria

(This story was written in collaboration with hardcoregirl22, to whom it is dedicated.)



Victoria leaned on the stone balustrade, the flat coping gritty under her bare forearms, and looked across the broad stillness of the lake towards the sunset. After a minute she said, 'It's lovely here.'

An older man was standing close beside her.

'James, it's just perfect,' she went on, glancing up at the man. 'The lake and the roses and everything.' Behind them the sunset was throwing a salmon flush across pale flowers on rose-bushes. The scent of the roses was all around them.

'Thank you,' said the man, smiling. 'I mean, I chose the hotel very carefully. But it's the sunset makes it perfect – I wish I could pretend I'd planned that too.'

'It's the Fates blessing our first meeting,' Victoria replied.

James' smile broadened. 'I'll take that as a Yes, then.'

'It's been Yes since we first started talking about this on Lit.'

They both gazed at the rim of orange-gold sun showing above the silhouetted trees fringing the lake. Victoria took James' hand where it lay on the coping and laced her fingers in his. 'When do we start?' she asked.

She waited for an answer. She would speak only when he wanted her to. At length James said. 'Night transforms everything, Victoria, even your respectful James, and the sun has set.' He let go of her hand and took a key from his pocket. 'This is a key to suite number seven. Go into the hotel and let yourself into the suite. In one hour I want to find you in the bedroom, naked and wearing the blindfold you'll find on the bed. You will have washed very thoroughly – you understand what I mean by that. You will be sitting on the side of the bed, waiting for me. Go, and don't look back.'

'Yes, Sir.' Victoria turned at once and hurried through the rose-garden. The sky was cold now, and to James her dress was a dwindling pallid blur among the pale rose-blooms; she passed through an arch cut into a yew hedge and was gone.

*

Victoria is sitting blindfolded on the bed. Though the bedside lamps are on, she can see only blackness. She thinks she is alone.

'You have been good, pretty Victoria.' James' voice comes from the darkness.

Victoria is startled. She is about to speak, but James cuts her off. 'You're wondering how long I've been here. Well, long enough to know you've been good, waiting so obediently. But don't think,' there is a taunting note in his voice, 'that just because you've been good you'll escape punishment. You see, it doesn't work like that.' The voice is approaching her. 'It's not like that at all.'

Silence. Perhaps he is looking at her; sure enough, he says, 'A soft body. I like that.' Then an order: 'Lie face-down on the duvet, in the middle of the bed.'

She crawls into position.

'Arms and legs spread out.' She obeys. Then she feels the mattress dip as James kneels next to her. Something is round her wrist: a chain. It tightens. Her arm is drawn up towards the corner of the bed. He chains her ankles, her other wrist: she is a mere X, splayed in the centre of the bed, defenceless.

James' voice comes from beside the bed. 'By the way, pretty young thing, I'm naked. And my cock is so hard it's throbbing.' The mattress dips again, and without any warning fingers are knotted in her hair, pulling her head up and back. His voice is low, close to her ear: 'So soft. So sweet. So pure. But you're not so spotlessly pure, are you? Only twenty-three, and you've been with a lot of men, haven't you?' A pause. 'Answer me! Pretty Victoria.'

'Yes, Sir. I have, Sir. More than ten, Sir.'

'And not just clean, healthy, normal sex. It wasn't always normal sex, was it, my innocent-eyed girl?'

'No, Sir.' He tightens his hand in her hair. She gasps out, 'Am I to be punished for that, sir?

'

A pause. James is contemplating her profile: the smooth brow, the pert chin, the lips taut with pain. Then: 'Not at all, pretty Victoria.' He pushes her face into the duvet before he lets go. With contempt he says, 'You're to be punished because I enjoy punishing you.'

He is no longer on the bed. Victoria thinks, from the sound, that he has gone to the dressing table. There is a rose in a tall glass vase there: perfect; white with a pale salmon heart. Tucked under the vase is the note James had written: 'For Victoria, who loves roses.' The stem of the rose is studded with vicious thorns.

James is next to her again. She feels the shock of a cold drop of water at the nape of her neck. She shudders.

The drop has fallen from the stem of the rose. James lowers the rose. The stem rests along Victoria's spine. He begins to draw it delicately downwards. The thorns drag at her white skin, catch it, tear it... Where the thorns have passed, after a few seconds a tiny ruby bead forms.

At the base of her spine James stops. He contemplates the vulnerable roundness of her buttocks. Then he traces over them with the stem of the rose, vigorously, across, then up and down until each creamy globe is embroidered with scores of red beads.

He puts the rose down, the flower just above her buttocks, the stem lying in the crack between them.

Then Victoria cries out, as much from shock as pain, as a stinging slap lands on her right buttock, the pain increased tenfold by the tiny lacerations. Then a softer cry, almost a moan, at the answering slap the other side. And at each slap her buttocks had clenched, so that the barbs on the stem between them pricked into her flesh.

James is kneeling beside her, his iron-hard cock jutting like a horn. He parts her stinging cheeks with his hands to contemplate her neat anus, part-hidden by the rose-stem. He presses down the duvet where it obscures her cunt, and reveals a spreading patch of wetness on the duvet cover. He admires her sweet, soaking cunt. The, with one hand he holds her buttocks well apart. He takes the rose and angles it so that just one thorn is touching her, between the cheeks. He circles it closer and closer to the little puckered entrance.

The thorn is on the puckered skin. Slowly, leisurely, it tears the skin once – and again – and again... Each tear brings a little gasp from Victoria.

James reaches his hand between Victoria's legs, and amuses himself by rubbing her clitoris while the rose lies on her back. He has not finished with the rose: he lifts it again. He leaves her clitoris. She feels his breath between her thighs. James can see her inner lips glistening with wetness. Then she knows the caress of a thorn there. Almost tenderly, it snags and pulls at the delicate flesh. The bliss of erotic touch mingles with a sweet pain, first one side and then the other. Her mouth is quivering and her breath shudders.

The rose is on her back again. James has left the bed; he seems to have left the room. He returns. He asks, 'There's a little fridge in the other room, pretty Victoria. Did you look in it?'

There is something in this question that fills Victoria with a delicious dread. But she can only say, 'No, Sir.'

'Then my worthless, pretty plaything is going to get a surprise.' Her hair is gripped and her head pulled back again. James says, 'Put out your tongue.' She does so. 'Further! Further, girl.' Her tongue is straining out, feeling the air. 'There's something just in front of you I want you to meet.' He lets her head move forward a fraction, and her tongue touches something smooth, rounded, as hard as ice and just as cold, and wet as if with dew.

The dildo is so large James can only just get his fingers round its thickest part, and made of a smoky-dark glass, almost black. The head is realistic, but the shaft is ringed with ridges. He pushes it against her mouth. 'Kiss it. Show me how you love it. And make it wetter,' he orders. 'Put plenty of spit on it. You'll be glad it's wet when I use it.' He turns it against her mouth and tongue so that she knows its whole shape and size.

When he takes the dildo from her she is pale. She swallows. 'Sir, please...'

'Yes?'

'So large... so very large...'

James is amused. 'What woman doesn't like a big cock, Victoria?'

Next his breath is on her buttocks. She waits in suspense. He has a hand on one cheek, pulling it to one side, revealing her anus clearly. The muscles inside the tops of her thighs are quivering before she feels the icy smoothness of the dildo caress her anus. She forces herself to relax.

James is watching the wet dildo pass across her hole. Blood smears the head. He drips a little more saliva on it, then speaks. 'Perhaps I should explain, pretty Victoria, the advantage of a glass dildo. It's hard, of course; but the great thing is, it can be made cold. Now, I know my Victoria is debased. I know she enjoys anal pleasures. And I know she's become rather skilful at relaxing her sweet little arsehole. But cold isn't relaxing, is it? Cold makes us clench, doesn't it? Doesn't it?'

'Yes, Sir.'

With this the dildo is thrust hard against Victoria's anal entrance. At once she gasps, as the head drives in. She is being forced open, violated. Perhaps she could still relax. Perhaps she could soften the pain – but she has no wish to. Her master must use her as he will. His pleasure in her pain is an erotic fever in her.

Her anus is taut around the head now. Victoria longs for more, to feel the length thrust up inside her. But James chooses to withdraw the dildo and contemplate her arsehole, which is just a little open , ready to be entered again... Unseen by her he feels under the end of the duvet and brings out an antiseptic wipe he had hidden there, and carefully cleans the head of the dildo with it.

Victoria still smarts and throbs from this mistreatment, but the pain is diminished and she can speak. Faintly she says, 'Please, Sir. I beg you, if it does please you to hurt me more...'

James sneers. 'You beg me!'

'Yes, sir.'

'And what do you beg me for?'

'More pain, Sir. But...'

James snorts derisively. 'You dare to add a "but".'

'I beg you, Sir, show a little mercy.'

'A little mercy! I have lubricant. I hid some under the foot of the bed. The finest anal lubricant money can buy, my pretty toy. I was planning to use it. But, do you know? I think we're both having so much fun I won't use it after all.' He thrusts his fingers in her flowing hair and twists it until her teeth clench again, her breath hissing between them. He pulls her head up, arching her back; for a moment she feels the head of the dildo at the opening of her vagina, then it is in her loose, yearning cunt in a single thrust. But only briefly; she is still gasping with shock when it is withdrawn as brutally as it entered. She knows nothing about the antiseptic, and the stinging heat that springs up inside her vagina is a shocking thrill.

James touches the dildo to her rear. It is almost dripping with the slippery juice from her sex passage.

'Please,' Victoria murmurs to herself, 'don't let him deny me. Right inside me this time.'

James shows no sign of having heard, but he drives in the dildo by pushing it in and out, deeper each time. A shrill little gasp hisses between her teeth at every thrust. The head is right inside, as she longed for it to be, but there is no respite from the pain: each ridge around the shaft is as large as the head, and James is ruthless for his pleasure.

He stops. Victoria's anus is stretched taut. The sight pleases him. He drips some saliva onto it, and with his finger rubs it round where the skin meets the glass. Victoria moans softly, and he smiles, and repeats the action. He says, 'You know, Victoria, in some ways I'm rather unusual. Did you know that? Don't answer. I don't care whether you know or not. I'm unusual because I like an arsehole to be well opened before I get my cock in it. So let's really get you nice and stretched, shall we? After all, I don't exactly have the smallest cock in the world.'

The pressure, the stretching again. She takes another ridge. She both hopes and fears there will be no more. But he drips on a good supply of saliva, and she takes one – two – three more, even bigger than those already in her. The broad base of the dildo is firm against her, pressing into the buttock each side. He moves it, twisting and tugging to stimulate her. 'Now,' he says, 'if there's anything you want to beg for, I'll allow you to beg. But remember: you have no right even to pain if it doesn't please me.'

'Please Sir. Take me how you please.'

'Beg harder.'

'Please Sir, I need you to use me, Sir.'

'Put into words how I might use you, Victoria. Degrade yourself by putting into words how I might use your body. What might I do next, do you think? Can you guess?'

'I hope you'll enter my arse with your cock and do me till I'm worn out, Sir. Oh, Sir, I've never been so aroused before. Never so stretched before. Such beautiful pain, Sir. Thank you, Sir, but I beg for your live body in me, Sir.'

James' only reply is to move the dildo more forcefully. More spit, and it is sliding urgently in and out. But suddenly the thick ringed shaft leaves her.

James sees a loose, blushing hole in front of him that is pleading to be filled. He scrambles from the bed. He is at the foot of the bed. She hears a snap from the plastic cap of a bottle. A few seconds later he is kneeling between her legs. The rose is snatched from her back and flung across the room. She feels the head of his cock touch the hole, tantalising her. A drop of lube drips onto the rim of the hole, and then he thrusts his whole length into her in one brutal movement.

Victoria screams out. But the hard shaft is filling her deliciously, and she has a smile of joy.

The scream has excited James all the more. Already he is thrusting in and out with mounting speed. He lays himself full-length on her body, his hips jerking as he thrusts against the softness of her buttocks. Hungrily, he kisses her cheek below the blindfold, and sees with delight that his sweet slut is smiling. He reaches around her body, one hand still wet with lube, and fills his hands with her breasts. The grip of her anus on his shaft is a joy to him.

At last Victoria is getting the hard arse-fuck from James' cock that she longed for. She is barely aware of James moving his lubed hand down her body, the slippery lube leaving a trail, until he reaches her cunt. The hair around her slit is sopping. His finger seeks the small, firm roundness of her clitoris. Her hips are jerking from the deep thrusts up her rear, so much that James needs scarcely to move his hand. He presses her clit, rubbing, rubbing...

James is gasping now. He feels ecstasy gathering in his balls. He can tell by Victoria's breathing and the stricken look on her face below the blindfold that her fulfilment is approaching too. He slams hard into her soft cheeks one last time. As he shoots his load he feels a tightening around the base of his shaft. She is climaxing with him. She feels his kisses on her face and knows that she is his beloved slut, his adored bitch. Her little gasps and moans of joy prolong his orgasm.

He lies, relaxed, spent, on the length of her lovely body, his breaths almost like sobs in his fulfilment, while she feels the waves of bliss that have overwhelmed her ebb to calmness.

*

A few minutes afterwards Victoria and James were cuddled in each other's arms. James was the first to speak. 'I didn't overdo the evil villain act, did I?'

'You were exactly how I wanted.'

James looked hopefully into Victoria's eyes. 'I know you like it in your pussy too. Maybe in half an hour you'd enjoy some nice comfortable vanilla sex with Sir?'

Victoria smiled. 'You know, James, I'm really glad you're not bald. I wonder what you'd look like bald?' She held the hair away from James' forehead with her fingers. Then she laughed and said, 'It's OK, I did hear you. Feeling all sentimental, are you? That's all right. I think it's sweet.'

'Well, I thought some tender love-making, you know... After what we've just done. After all, we'll probably never be together again after this weekend.'

'That's exactly why we mustn't get too affectionate,' Victoria replied, a little sadly. 'By the way, what's happened to the rose?'

'It must be on the floor somewhere. It'll be rather battered, I'm afraid. Sir will get you a new one tomorrow morning.'

'No,' she said, smiling again. 'You're forgetting. We made a plan for how tonight and tomorrow night should go. I'll get the rose for tomorrow.'

James lowered his eyes submissively. 'Yes, Mistress.'(This story was written in collaboration with hardcoregirl22, to whom it is dedicated.)



Victoria leaned on the stone balustrade, the flat coping gritty under her bare forearms, and looked across the broad stillness of the lake towards the sunset. After a minute she said, 'It's lovely here.'

An older man was standing close beside her.

'James, it's just perfect,' she went on, glancing up at the man. 'The lake and the roses and everything.' Behind them the sunset was throwing a salmon flush across pale flowers on rose-bushes. The scent of the roses was all around them.

'Thank you,' said the man, smiling. 'I mean, I chose the hotel very carefully. But it's the sunset makes it perfect – I wish I could pretend I'd planned that too.'

'It's the Fates blessing our first meeting,' Victoria replied.

James' smile broadened. 'I'll take that as a Yes, then.'

'It's been Yes since we first started talking about this on Lit.'

They both gazed at the rim of orange-gold sun showing above the silhouetted trees fringing the lake. Victoria took James' hand where it lay on the coping and laced her fingers in his. 'When do we start?' she asked.

She waited for an answer. She would speak only when he wanted her to. At length James said. 'Night transforms everything, Victoria, even your respectful James, and the sun has set.' He let go of her hand and took a key from his pocket. 'This is a key to suite number seven. Go into the hotel and let yourself into the suite. In one hour I want to find you in the bedroom, naked and wearing the blindfold you'll find on the bed. You will have washed very thoroughly – you understand what I mean by that. You will be sitting on the side of the bed, waiting for me. Go, and don't look back.'

'Yes, Sir.' Victoria turned at once and hurried through the rose-garden. The sky was cold now, and to James her dress was a dwindling pallid blur among the pale rose-blooms; she passed through an arch cut into a yew hedge and was gone.

*

Victoria is sitting blindfolded on the bed. Though the bedside lamps are on, she can see only blackness. She thinks she is alone.

'You have been good, pretty Victoria.' James' voice comes from the darkness.

Victoria is startled. She is about to speak, but James cuts her off. 'You're wondering how long I've been here. Well, long enough to know you've been good, waiting so obediently. But don't think,' there is a taunting note in his voice, 'that just because you've been good you'll escape punishment. You see, it doesn't work like that.' The voice is approaching her. 'It's not like that at all.'

Silence. Perhaps he is looking at her; sure enough, he says, 'A soft body. I like that.' Then an order: 'Lie face-down on the duvet, in the middle of the bed.'

She crawls into position.

'Arms and legs spread out.' She obeys. Then she feels the mattress dip as James kneels next to her. Something is round her wrist: a chain. It tightens. Her arm is drawn up towards the corner of the bed. He chains her ankles, her other wrist: she is a mere X, splayed in the centre of the bed, defenceless.

James' voice comes from beside the bed. 'By the way, pretty young thing, I'm naked. And my cock is so hard it's throbbing.' The mattress dips again, and without any warning fingers are knotted in her hair, pulling her head up and back. His voice is low, close to her ear: 'So soft. So sweet. So pure. But you're not so spotlessly pure, are you? Only twenty-three, and you've been with a lot of men, haven't you?' A pause. 'Answer me! Pretty Victoria.'

'Yes, Sir. I have, Sir. More than ten, Sir.'

'And not just clean, healthy, normal sex. It wasn't always normal sex, was it, my innocent-eyed girl?'

'No, Sir.' He tightens his hand in her hair. She gasps out, 'Am I to be punished for that, sir?

'

A pause. James is contemplating her profile: the smooth brow, the pert chin, the lips taut with pain. Then: 'Not at all, pretty Victoria.' He pushes her face into the duvet before he lets go. With contempt he says, 'You're to be punished because I enjoy punishing you.'

He is no longer on the bed. Victoria thinks, from the sound, that he has gone to the dressing table. There is a rose in a tall glass vase there: perfect; white with a pale salmon heart. Tucked under the vase is the note James had written: 'For Victoria, who loves roses.' The stem of the rose is studded with vicious thorns.

James is next to her again. She feels the shock of a cold drop of water at the nape of her neck. She shudders.

The drop has fallen from the stem of the rose. James lowers the rose. The stem rests along Victoria's spine. He begins to draw it delicately downwards. The thorns drag at her white skin, catch it, tear it... Where the thorns have passed, after a few seconds a tiny ruby bead forms.

At the base of her spine James stops. He contemplates the vulnerable roundness of her buttocks. Then he traces over them with the stem of the rose, vigorously, across, then up and down until each creamy globe is embroidered with scores of red beads.

He puts the rose down, the flower just above her buttocks, the stem lying in the crack between them.

Then Victoria cries out, as much from shock as pain, as a stinging slap lands on her right buttock, the pain increased tenfold by the tiny lacerations. Then a softer cry, almost a moan, at the answering slap the other side. And at each slap her buttocks had clenched, so that the barbs on the stem between them pricked into her flesh.

James is kneeling beside her, his iron-hard cock jutting like a horn. He parts her stinging cheeks with his hands to contemplate her neat anus, part-hidden by the rose-stem. He presses down the duvet where it obscures her cunt, and reveals a spreading patch of wetness on the duvet cover. He admires her sweet, soaking cunt. The, with one hand he holds her buttocks well apart. He takes the rose and angles it so that just one thorn is touching her, between the cheeks. He circles it closer and closer to the little puckered entrance.

The thorn is on the puckered skin. Slowly, leisurely, it tears the skin once – and again – and again... Each tear brings a little gasp from Victoria.

James reaches his hand between Victoria's legs, and amuses himself by rubbing her clitoris while the rose lies on her back. He has not finished with the rose: he lifts it again. He leaves her clitoris. She feels his breath between her thighs. James can see her inner lips glistening with wetness. Then she knows the caress of a thorn there. Almost tenderly, it snags and pulls at the delicate flesh. The bliss of erotic touch mingles with a sweet pain, first one side and then the other. Her mouth is quivering and her breath shudders.

The rose is on her back again. James has left the bed; he seems to have left the room. He returns. He asks, 'There's a little fridge in the other room, pretty Victoria. Did you look in it?'

There is something in this question that fills Victoria with a delicious dread. But she can only say, 'No, Sir.'

'Then my worthless, pretty plaything is going to get a surprise.' Her hair is gripped and her head pulled back again. James says, 'Put out your tongue.' She does so. 'Further! Further, girl.' Her tongue is straining out, feeling the air. 'There's something just in front of you I want you to meet.' He lets her head move forward a fraction, and her tongue touches something smooth, rounded, as hard as ice and just as cold, and wet as if with dew.

The dildo is so large James can only just get his fingers round its thickest part, and made of a smoky-dark glass, almost black. The head is realistic, but the shaft is ringed with ridges. He pushes it against her mouth. 'Kiss it. Show me how you love it. And make it wetter,' he orders. 'Put plenty of spit on it. You'll be glad it's wet when I use it.' He turns it against her mouth and tongue so that she knows its whole shape and size.

When he takes the dildo from her she is pale. She swallows. 'Sir, please...'

'Yes?'

'So large... so very large...'

James is amused. 'What woman doesn't like a big cock, Victoria?'

Next his breath is on her buttocks. She waits in suspense. He has a hand on one cheek, pulling it to one side, revealing her anus clearly. The muscles inside the tops of her thighs are quivering before she feels the icy smoothness of the dildo caress her anus. She forces herself to relax.

James is watching the wet dildo pass across her hole. Blood smears the head. He drips a little more saliva on it, then speaks. 'Perhaps I should explain, pretty Victoria, the advantage of a glass dildo. It's hard, of course; but the great thing is, it can be made cold. Now, I know my Victoria is debased. I know she enjoys anal pleasures. And I know she's become rather skilful at relaxing her sweet little arsehole. But cold isn't relaxing, is it? Cold makes us clench, doesn't it? Doesn't it?'

'Yes, Sir.'

With this the dildo is thrust hard against Victoria's anal entrance. At once she gasps, as the head drives in. She is being forced open, violated. Perhaps she could still relax. Perhaps she could soften the pain – but she has no wish to. Her master must use her as he will. His pleasure in her pain is an erotic fever in her.

Her anus is taut around the head now. Victoria longs for more, to feel the length thrust up inside her. But James chooses to withdraw the dildo and contemplate her arsehole, which is just a little open , ready to be entered again... Unseen by her he feels under the end of the duvet and brings out an antiseptic wipe he had hidden there, and carefully cleans the head of the dildo with it.

Victoria still smarts and throbs from this mistreatment, but the pain is diminished and she can speak. Faintly she says, 'Please, Sir. I beg you, if it does please you to hurt me more...'

James sneers. 'You beg me!'

'Yes, sir.'

'And what do you beg me for?'

'More pain, Sir. But...'

James snorts derisively. 'You dare to add a "but".'

'I beg you, Sir, show a little mercy.'

'A little mercy! I have lubricant. I hid some under the foot of the bed. The finest anal lubricant money can buy, my pretty toy. I was planning to use it. But, do you know? I think we're both having so much fun I won't use it after all.' He thrusts his fingers in her flowing hair and twists it until her teeth clench again, her breath hissing between them. He pulls her head up, arching her back; for a moment she feels the head of the dildo at the opening of her vagina, then it is in her loose, yearning cunt in a single thrust. But only briefly; she is still gasping with shock when it is withdrawn as brutally as it entered. She knows nothing about the antiseptic, and the stinging heat that springs up inside her vagina is a shocking thrill.

James touches the dildo to her rear. It is almost dripping with the slippery juice from her sex passage.

'Please,' Victoria murmurs to herself, 'don't let him deny me. Right inside me this time.'

James shows no sign of having heard, but he drives in the dildo by pushing it in and out, deeper each time. A shrill little gasp hisses between her teeth at every thrust. The head is right inside, as she longed for it to be, but there is no respite from the pain: each ridge around the shaft is as large as the head, and James is ruthless for his pleasure.

He stops. Victoria's anus is stretched taut. The sight pleases him. He drips some saliva onto it, and with his finger rubs it round where the skin meets the glass. Victoria moans softly, and he smiles, and repeats the action. He says, 'You know, Victoria, in some ways I'm rather unusual. Did you know that? Don't answer. I don't care whether you know or not. I'm unusual because I like an arsehole to be well opened before I get my cock in it. So let's really get you nice and stretched, shall we? After all, I don't exactly have the smallest cock in the world.'

The pressure, the stretching again. She takes another ridge. She both hopes and fears there will be no more. But he drips on a good supply of saliva, and she takes one – two – three more, even bigger than those already in her. The broad base of the dildo is firm against her, pressing into the buttock each side. He moves it, twisting and tugging to stimulate her. 'Now,' he says, 'if there's anything you want to beg for, I'll allow you to beg. But remember: you have no right even to pain if it doesn't please me.'

'Please Sir. Take me how you please.'

'Beg harder.'

'Please Sir, I need you to use me, Sir.'

'Put into words how I might use you, Victoria. Degrade yourself by putting into words how I might use your body. What might I do next, do you think? Can you guess?'

'I hope you'll enter my arse with your cock and do me till I'm worn out, Sir. Oh, Sir, I've never been so aroused before. Never so stretched before. Such beautiful pain, Sir. Thank you, Sir, but I beg for your live body in me, Sir.'

James' only reply is to move the dildo more forcefully. More spit, and it is sliding urgently in and out. But suddenly the thick ringed shaft leaves her.

James sees a loose, blushing hole in front of him that is pleading to be filled. He scrambles from the bed. He is at the foot of the bed. She hears a snap from the plastic cap of a bottle. A few seconds later he is kneeling between her legs. The rose is snatched from her back and flung across the room. She feels the head of his cock touch the hole, tantalising her. A drop of lube drips onto the rim of the hole, and then he thrusts his whole length into her in one brutal movement.

Victoria screams out. But the hard shaft is filling her deliciously, and she has a smile of joy.

The scream has excited James all the more. Already he is thrusting in and out with mounting speed. He lays himself full-length on her body, his hips jerking as he thrusts against the softness of her buttocks. Hungrily, he kisses her cheek below the blindfold, and sees with delight that his sweet slut is smiling. He reaches around her body, one hand still wet with lube, and fills his hands with her breasts. The grip of her anus on his shaft is a joy to him.

At last Victoria is getting the hard arse-fuck from James' cock that she longed for. She is barely aware of James moving his lubed hand down her body, the slippery lube leaving a trail, until he reaches her cunt. The hair around her slit is sopping. His finger seeks the small, firm roundness of her clitoris. Her hips are jerking from the deep thrusts up her rear, so much that James needs scarcely to move his hand. He presses her clit, rubbing, rubbing...

James is gasping now. He feels ecstasy gathering in his balls. He can tell by Victoria's breathing and the stricken look on her face below the blindfold that her fulfilment is approaching too. He slams hard into her soft cheeks one last time. As he shoots his load he feels a tightening around the base of his shaft. She is climaxing with him. She feels his kisses on her face and knows that she is his beloved slut, his adored bitch. Her little gasps and moans of joy prolong his orgasm.

He lies, relaxed, spent, on the length of her lovely body, his breaths almost like sobs in his fulfilment, while she feels the waves of bliss that have overwhelmed her ebb to calmness.

*

A few minutes afterwards Victoria and James were cuddled in each other's arms. James was the first to speak. 'I didn't overdo the evil villain act, did I?'

'You were exactly how I wanted.'

James looked hopefully into Victoria's eyes. 'I know you like it in your pussy too. Maybe in half an hour you'd enjoy some nice comfortable vanilla sex with Sir?'

Victoria smiled. 'You know, James, I'm really glad you're not bald. I wonder what you'd look like bald?' She held the hair away from James' forehead with her fingers. Then she laughed and said, 'It's OK, I did hear you. Feeling all sentimental, are you? That's all right. I think it's sweet.'

'Well, I thought some tender love-making, you know... After what we've just done. After all, we'll probably never be together again after this weekend.'

'That's exactly why we mustn't get too affectionate,' Victoria replied, a little sadly. 'By the way, what's happened to the rose?'

'It must be on the floor somewhere. It'll be rather battered, I'm afraid. Sir will get you a new one tomorrow morning.'

'No,' she said, smiling again. 'You're forgetting. We made a plan for how tonight and tomorrow night should go. I'll get the rose for tomorrow.'

James lowered his eyes submissively. 'Yes, Mistress.'

rose   for   victoria  

Jul 1, 2018 in romance

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