Post by hotpinkguy on Mar 14, 2020 15:35:57 GMT -5
So, I've never really written erotic fiction before, or dev fiction , but I thought I'd give it a shot. Constructive criticism is welcome, but remember this is my maiden voyage, so be kind. Warning: Thee is explicit description of sexual acts , so if that is not your thing keep going....
THE CHAIR
TO BE CONTINUED
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Dylan woke up, slowly, and turned -- what the fuck? Can’t turn … Ouch! Is that metal digging into my wrists? Am I handcuffed to the bed? He tried to turn over the other way with the same results. Yup. Handcuffed. His head was pounding, but slowly he? open his eyes. No light. Alost against his will, he had to admit he like this person’s style. But still, WTF? What happened last night …. Rugby practice, then he and the guys went to the club, but they are all married wusses who had to leave early, so then he went to his fave pickup bar. Two chicks were hitting on him - they said they were roommates. He went to leave, and the fucking Uber driver wouldn’t take his chair…. Then what? C’mon asshole – think. Think! What happened next? I Did the chicks have a car? They promised to take him home - did they take him here instead? Where the hell is he?
Where am--?” Dylan started to ask, when a woman’s husky voice interrupted.
“No talking, remember? Last night you said you wanted to be our fucktoy, and toys don’t talk.”
“Is my wheel…” – Dylan started to say, but his sentence was cut off by the landing on his face of the wettest, sweetest pussy he had ever had the pleasure of meeting.
He nibbled and sucked those outer lips, feeling them puff and juice, and hearing the stranger moan, “that’s right, boy -- please your Mistress. “
Mistress? Boy? What the hell had happened last night? He started to lick faster, encouraged by Mistress rocking on his face, spelling his name with his tongue, then pointing it and beginning to thrust it in and out of her opening, as she rode his face hard in response, bouncing up and down as she moaned out her pleasure. Just a bit afraid She was going to break his nose wouldn’t be the first time) he moved to the big finish, gently pushing her clit hood up with his tongue tip, then taking that sweet clit in His mouth and rolling it, slowly. Finally, he sucked it hard, his lips tight around the bud. Just as he hoped, he heard Mistress gasp, felt her body stiffen, and then was rewarded with a gush of liquid all over his face. Was she a squirter? He had always thought that that was just a fable. Guess not. He felt Mistress roll of him, resting her head on his right nipple, and hear her softly command,“ Girl.” There was a sweet little laugh as a tongue began to lick his face, cleaning up all of the juices and then kissing him, feeding him Mistress’s tangy liquid.
“Well, that was a good start to the day, he heard Mistress say. chuckling. So, do you remember anything about last night, Dylan?”
“It’s kinda fuzzy, Ma’am,” he heard himself say.
Mistress smiled and replied, “You were in quite the mood. We ran into you around midnight, and you were already blasted on Vodka cranberries. “
Mistress smiled and replied, “You were in quite the mood. We ran into you around midnight, and you were already blasted on Vodka cranberries. “
“Yup, that’s my drink when I want to get loaded because the cranberry helps me forget it’s alcohol.”
“ Because the cranberry helps you forget it’s alcohol WHAT?” growled Mistress.
Scared and a bit confused, Dylan offered, “because the cranberry helps me forget it’s alcohol, Mistress?”
“Good boy,” the woman said as she stroked his face.
“ Anyway, we brought you over to our table because, frankly, we were a bit worried about you, and you went off”!
Let’s see, there was something about: ‘Goddamn Saudis, we should have invaded them instead of Iraq, and if we had we would have been out of there before I enlisted because Saudis have no clue how to fight a war.‘ “Does any of this sound familiar?”
I went there again, Dylan thought to himself. I promised myself I was finished with that story - I must have been trashed.”
“Slave?”
“Yes, Ma’am, that story sounds like something I would say when bombed.”
Mistress continued, ‘And if you hadn’t enlisted then you wouldn’t have gotten your legs blown off by that IED and all the fucking bitches in this town would still want to fuck you, but instead you have to go roleplay being a Master on the fucking Internet - and it’s all the Saudis fault.’ Dylan's face reddens as feels the blindfold being removed. He opens his eyes, blinking them, trying to get used to the daylight.
As his eyes begin to focus, he finds himself staring at the naked Mistress. Fuck, she’s old. I mean old old. Maybe 70. Great witchy long white hair, spectacular green eyes, and not a ton of wrinkles. No tits whatsoever, (cancer?) but also no stretch marks. Varicose veins, natch, but a hot bubble butt, just like he liked them. - In great shape overall, especially for 70. Mistress interrupted his reverie.
“Dylan, My eyes are up here. Although you haven’t asked, yes, your chair is fine. It’s in the closet. I’m 68. I had a double mastectomy at 60 and I’m totally fine with that I - which means that you are too. Kapisch? I’m the head of the Sociology Department at the University, and my colleague, who you will meet in a moment, is also My slave. To oversimplify horribly, sociology is the study of communities, and My slave, being the up-and coming academic superstar she is, came to Me with a proposal to write about the prevalence of disabled Masters in the world of BDSM. I suggested the paper would be more powerful if it was a participant-observer study, and she agreed. We really had no clue how to do this until we met you.
So, with no further ado, I’d like you to meet your new Owner, Dr. Fatima Al-Hajj. Dylan’s eyes bugged out as he saw a stunningly gorgeous woman, petite and tight with curves to match. She looked exactly like his sweet Daniya, the girl who said she loved him before planting the IED that changed his life.
“O-O-O-Owner? Dylan stuttered, as Fatima reached into a drawer under the bed, pulled out a metal collar with O-ring and leash attached, and put the collar around his neck, locking it in back. Dylan watched helplessly as Fatima handed the key to Mistress, who threw it in the sink and ran the garbage disposal.
“Owner, yes - but that’s so impersonal… Hmm – I know - you may call me Goddess.”
Mistress grinned wickedly.
“Oh, Dylan, in case you’re wondering: Fatima’s Saudi.”
Dylan felt his temper start to rise but controlled himself, as he was in no position to do otherwise.
“Goddess, Mistress, may I ask a question?”
“You are a very good boy for asking,” smiled Mistress.
“Yes, you may, my sweet property, “ said his Goddess, leaning in to kiss his earlobe.
“Why me?”
“Have you ever heard of devotees?” asked his Goddess, her eyes twinkling. Dylan shook his head no.
Mistress spoke up.
“Let’s just say that legless guys get us both very, very, very wet.”
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