The Candle

 Laying in the darkness listening to the songbirds, I thought of the life and the loves, a new relationship bursting into life, the flames and intensity of fresh passion. . . 

(Storytime does not own copyrights to this image.)

The Candle

by

Ben Hannigan

The candle flickered as the two girls ate, lit at the start of the meal they shared.  It was an anniversary, the candle a dark, rich red, unscented; the flame licking at the air as they shared the wine. The venison rare and rich, the dark chocolate truffles melting on the tongue as they talked into the night, the kisses they shared tasting of the meal and each other. One smoking a pipe the other content with the wine as they talked, the candle pressed into service to light and relight the pipe as the flame still licked at the air.

Neither remembered who kissed who first but they both remember that hunger and that pull as they moved from the chairs to the bed. The fire that pulsed through them and that heady arousal, Louise’s body a healthy tan -- that of an outdoor girl -- contrasting beautifully with Lara’s in the candlelight. Her body a squiggle of cream on the dark bedspread, her lover grinning to herself as the black silk ties contrasted against her pale wrists. Once she was bound and under her control, Louise began the slow, languid, torturous movements she favoured, nipping and licking from neck to ankles before her mouth nipping, licking, sucking and starting to devour the younger girl as some sort of dessert. The sounds her treat was making; a mix of heady gasps, whimpers and begging howls. She saw that candle still licking at the air and grinned, her hand snaking out of the bed to remove the candle from the heavy brass candelabra.

During the Raising of the candle all Lara could see was this floating tongue of flame dancing across the air, nervous and unsure what was to happen she watched from her position bound on the bed. Louise slowly, gently leaning the candle forward and they both breathless with anticipation watched the bead of wax drip off the candle. Almost in slow motion the wax hanging in the air before it splashed onto the younger girls breast, the red wax spreading and oozing before hardening. The flash of heat and pain stinging and causing indrawn gasps and whimpers of shock and desire through her, almost begging for more as the second drop landed. Her back arching and writhing as her teasing lover slowly worked the wax lower leaving a trail of redness splashed across her bare white skin. The candle moving closer, lower and lower moving inextricably towards her wetness the candle had half burned down as Louise presented what she had decided would be the last drop of wax. Lara laid there, her back arched, staring into her lovers eyes as she watched that last drop slowly fall towards her clit. The wax landing on her lithe body and engulfing her in a fire, the warmth sucking her up and into an explosion of lust and desire, as the wax cooled it bound her clit tightly in a vice-like grip squeezing her as she shook and spasmed with lust; craving anything, more, a touch, a kiss, anything to keep this going. Her mewling howls had startled Louise who smartly jerked causing the flame to splutter and die before she dived into her lover’s body peeling the now solid wax from her skin the tugging sending shudders of pleasure through Lara as she calmed.

Grinning, she dove  into the girl’s wetness once more as she begged for more, leaving her clit bound and imprisoned in this waxy tightness. Crawling up her body Louise ground into her as Lara begged for more. She whimpered with need as Louise rode her, their wet slits sliding  across each other. Testing the candle and finding it cool to the touch,  she used her weight to hold the girl down.  She pushed her virgin rosebud onto the candle, working it into her, feeling her contract and beg to be untied, beg to be kissed, and beg to wrap her arms around the woman she loved. Once, twice, three times she rocked and bounced into Louise and gasped again, screaming for more before it ended and she went limp, pressing gentle kisses across Louise’s throat, losing herself into a shaking mess of desire.

Faere Warrior: Passion's Price Conclusion

Fate and Karma are mere children compared to Fae sense of justice.  Meted out in rations against humans, or anyone that dares to interfere with their master plan, cruelty was first learned at the hand of the Fae by human kind.  The Great agreement was not made to protect humans, but insure their eventual victory.

 

Faere Warrior: Passion's Price

Conclusion

by

Ellie Mack

 

Chapter 9

            Queen Aeswitha stood to announce her final decision.  It had taken 20 minutes of deliberation by the council to come to a unanimous decision.  Twenty minutes in Faery, translated to weeks in the human realm.

“The creature mormo, known as Siann shall be cast in prison, and questioned for any information we may obtain pertaining to Prince Brogann.”  She banged her scepter on the marble tile.

“As to the Guardian of the clan McIntyre, Keegan Alistaire McIntyre, currently at warrior status, shall be administered a half dose of elixir to preserve his life.  If however, he turns to our dark Fae brethren as a result of the poisoning, he shall be hunted and killed with the Spear of Luhn.”  She banged her scepter once more.

“Guards shall be doubled at our prison, and wards shall be increased to hold Prince Brogann.  He remains within bodily.”  She hesitated, choosing not to speak any further information about his condition, then tapped her scepter.

“Finally, the slayer known as Selena Mubarak shall be stripped of the cuffs, which are the cuffs of Nuada, first king to our race, conqueror of the Firbolg. She shall be destroyed by the spear of Luhn, bound by blood runes to Prince Brogann as wife and concubine; as such guilty of treason to the Fae High court.”  She tapped her scepter once more.  “The cuffs shall be brought to Faery, and remain in the treasury until the time when our contract ends.”

“These edicts shall be executed this day.”

            The Queen sat in a slump.  It took a lot of her magic to make edicts.  By the power of her title every word she spoke while holding the scepter came to pass.  Leevander stepped forward, kissing his mother’s hand before he saw her laws carried out.

 

 

                         *                                *                                  *                                  *

 

 

            Siann was taken to the lower levels of the prison, those reserved for the lower caste Unseelie.   The guards questioned, extracting every bit of information they could before destroying the miserable wretched creature.  Siann had served Prince Brogann for twelve centuries, before that she had served King Vortigen.

            It was uncertain if they could have saved her, but the Seelie had little use for the grotesque castes of Unseelie.  With a perverse pleasure at seeing her torture, the Seelie Fae showed themselves to be no better than their darker brethren.  In many instances they were often more cruel. The guards laughed, watching as the pitiful creature writhed in agony for hours until death finally came.

            Leevander’s servant women were tending Keegan when the Queen’s aid arrived.    Their constant touching, bathing, caressing, and kissing; hoping that he would awaken so they could be pleasured by him, was brought to a swift halt. Examining the puncture wounds on his leg, the elder Fae made an incision, knowing that no scar would remain after the administration of the elixir.  Keegan was treated roughly, as a tool that had malfunctioned and could be easily replaced.  It was more expedient to fix the broken one than to replace it, luckily for Keegan.

Leevander carried the half dose of elixir.  It wouldn’t be enough to grant immortality, but the unnatural longevity went along with their service to the Fae.  Keegan’s longevity would just last a little longer than most, but not be granted the immortality that his Uncle Robert had.  Once Lee administered the elixir, Keegan began to stir.  The Fae women continued their caresses and ministrations. 

            Keegan woke quickly, aware of his arousal and the Fae women by his side.  He was also well aware of the addictive factor to Fae/human sex.  Some never recovered, some chose to stay in Faery as their toys.  The temptation was there;  sex like you’ve never experienced that would literally blow your mind.  Far more powerful than any illicit drug, Fae sex was never meant for humans.

             “Get me the fuck out of here! Of all places, why did you bring me here and how much of my life have you stolen now?”  He was furious.

            Keegan snapped out of his haze to see Leevander standing, arms crossed staring smugly at him. “What the hell?  What have you done to me you faery wanker?  Get me the fuck out of here! Of all places, why did you bring me here and how much of my life have you stolen now?”  He was furious.

            Lee chuckled.  “I saved your arse again.”  He spoke in the ancient Fae tongue to the women and they sulked away.  “Now if you’re ready to get off your lazy arse we’ve work to attend.”

            Keegan didn’t even argue, just sat up, raked his fingers through his hair and followed Lee without any argument.  When he translated back to his apartment; nearly four months had passed.  Time in Faery always passed slower than in the human realm.  Leevander had paid his rent, and dropped him from his classes.  Lee sat with Keegan and explained how things were with the momo. It was harder to convince him about Selena. 

            He froze mid sentence.  The portal had been opened. This time they were ready for the slayer.  He pushed the sword into Keegan’s hand as they transported to the portal beneath the Golden Gate Bridge.   The rocks crumbled away as dozens of imp-like creatures poured from the dark depths.  They barely advanced two before Keegan was upon them, sending them back. 

Lee spotted Selena coming around the far side of the bridge.  He motioned the guards who had made themselves invisible to hold her.   Keegan worked in his skilled dance, banishing the Unseelie in a seemingly effortless display.

            “Stop!  You’re not helping!  They’ll just come back.”  It was Selena.  Keegan turned towards her, seeing her struggling against the two Fae guards.

            “Well, well.  If it isn’t queen of the damned.  Oh, or is that queen Mubarak?  No wait, mistress of the dark.  Or how about  Mistress of Misery? Yeah that one fit’s. We’ll stick with that one, Mistress.” He took two long strides to stand in front of her. “I just want to know one thing.  Why Selena?”  His jaws clenched in anger. He slashed the sword, catching two straggling Unseelie in his peripheral vision.

 

            Selena struggled in the guards grasps.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stilled, seeing the pain on his face.

            “Don’t play coy with me Salena, it’s unbecoming. Sicking that Unseelie creature on me? That was low.”  He wiped the sweat from his brow and flung it to the ground.  His burr thickening as he spoke. “Obviously you aren’t as innocent in matters as you’d want me to believe.  I just want to know one thing.  Did you decide to kill me yourself?  Or did your Master, Prince Brogann order you to do it?”

            “What? What are you talking about?  I never tried to kill you.”

            “It’s a little late to be tellin’ lies.  He turned and walked away from her a few steps then stopped.  “You know, it’s funny.  I thought I’d found a real treasure in you.  I thought I loved you.  I was obsessed night and day with seeing you again, and when I did you nearly killed me.”  He threw a stone into the bay. “Only to find out ye’re a back stabbing bitch working for the Dark Prince.  That’s rich.  Yeah the jokes on me, now isn’t it?  I hope you enjoyed your little game, ‘cause there won’t be a next time.”

            He stormed away, leaving Salena between the guards, letting Lee deal with her.  Lee took the cuffs first, then her Ankh pendant.  Lee spoke the ancient language, breaking her glamour spell. 

“Sher en hachth; du bien a’ nalle; nuchthreit  Sher doch im hath neyet, etren dub naucht. ”

            Keegan turned back, her glamour stripped.  She was covered in runic tattoos and glyphs.  Slowly her features were fading from beauty to a time ravaged hideous form.   Lee took the spear from the sheath and stabbed her in the heart. Keegan turned away at her screams and kept walking down the shore tossing rocks as the tears flowed unbidden,  a piece of his heart dying with her.

            Lee caught up with him some time later with a six pack. “It’s done.” 

            “Aye”  Keegan accepted one of the beers.  They sat on the rocks staring out over the bay in silence for some time.

            “Don’t suppose you’d be amused by older women jokes?”

            “That’d be right.” 

When the beers were gone they walked in silence back to the bridge to seal the portal.

 

                        *                                  *                                  *                                  *

 

            Brogann fell to the floor.  They thought to kill his beloved.  He couldn’t have that, all his plans all the suffering would be for naught.   He blocked out the stabbing pain he felt from their connection.  Every bit of effort he could muster, he projected himself to his faithful servant Slede.  Slede  was a were creature.  

            “I summon thee my servant Slede.”  Brogann cast his voice into Slede’s head, and Slede instantly transported into the cell. Brogann grabbed Slede, transforming his shape to resemble his own as he took Slede’s appearance. In the few seconds it took to make the transfer, the guard shuffled down the corridor to check on him.  Brogann translated to Salena.

            “What’s goin’ on in there?”  The guard shone the torch into the cell.

            “Get that fucking light out of my eyes or I’ll pull your arms out.” He turned in his chair, facing the cell wall, not allowing the guard to see his face.

            “Show yourself!”  The guard yelled, shoving the torch further into the cell.

            “Instantly Slede was on his feet, the irons on his ankles jerking him back inches from reaching the guard.

            The guard pulled back in terror.  Brogann was a tricky one, and deceptively calm most of the time. “I’ll bring your food.”  He hastily retreated up the stairs, confident that Brogann was safely restrained.

 

                        *                                  *                                  *                                  *

 

            As the sword pierced Salena’s side she screamed. Her glamour had been stripped.  They’d taken Keegan from her with lies and a setup.  Her eyes burned with hatred.  Brogann was the only one that had ever cared for her.

            In an instant a man was beside her, sending the guards flying.  He pulled the sword from her, simply touching it burned his hands.  Before it clanked to the ground, he translated Salena to his chambers. He stayed with her, nursing her along as long as his strength would allow before returning to his cell.

            Slede would have to tend to her needs. The hidden chambers at Petra provided a safe refuge for his bride, for his future queen.

Swingers Part 8

How will Colb recreate THIS for Sunday morning?

 

 

Part VIII: 

One plus one makes three.

by

Abyrne Mostyn

 

 

It took Colb several protracted minutes to figure out exactly how to put on his ‘outfit’. Finally having all the pieces in place, he turned to look in the mirror thinking that this look reeked of Sharilynne; she made no secret of liking her men in chains. Feeling a bit like Scrooge’s Marley every time he moved, the clinking of chain against chain was going to have him naked faster than normal, not that the whole of it was a bad look, rather bondage slave gone rogue. A cock ring attached at the base to a sac chain to hold it in place, that chain sliding around both sides before clipping together between his legs to form a single line that extended between the divide of him, then up along his spine to a thick collar. Inspecting that part he realized that fully erect that there was going to be a bit of resistance. Single chains coming off the front of the collar to wrist cuffs, it seems everything was connected. Slipping on the mask, gauging his appearance one last time, he snapped the key onto his wrist, tossed the locked bag onto the shelf, and stepped thru the door.

Glancing around the room as he pulled the door closed behind him he quickly found that not every male had the same restraints, some had far more and others far less hardware. In light of this, he was thankful to fall somewhere in the middle of the male bondage parade. Starting off to the left he made the rounds of the room, shaking hands, swapping air kisses and casual greetings to those he knew, introducing himself to those he didn’t. On the far side of the room, he found Regg in conversation with a curvy blonde. Regg was easy to spot in any guise, at six foot five he was easily the tallest in the room. The female he was talking to was reminiscent of Norma Jean save the azure eyes; her set in waist and generous hips and breasts helping him remember just how connected his chains were as he felt the pressure against his throat when chains shifted to accommodate his interest and pulled the collar tight.
 

Regg excused himself to refresh drinks, offering to bring one back for Colb as well. Not taking his eyes off hers, nodding his assent he shifted to give himself some air to converse before starting in.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you before, are you new to the parties?”

Her ruby lips curving and bright eyes lighting up behind the copper colored mask she wore before she responded,  “Yes, in a manner of speaking I am.”
 

Her giggle was soft, perhaps a nervous tick as she answered him. She glanced him up and down, well pleased at his obvious interest before meeting his eyes and continuing,

“Tell me, how involved are these parties then?”

Dragging his palm down his face over his mouth and to the collar, Colb thought she couldn’t be THAT new to this scene. Surely whomever brought her would have explained the formal and informal rules of this to her.
"Uhhhm, I daresay that depends on you. Pretty much whatever you seek can be found, or not. Do you understand the parameters of the party?"

“Oh indeed. I know exactly what I want. And I will have it too.”
 

Colb’s brows shot up in amusement and the corner of his mouth ticked at the definitive statement by the woman. His cock had other plans and shot up faster than the quiz bowl champion’s hand could to answer her desires. Swiveling his neck to loosen the grip and gather air, it was a tug of war between his heads to see who was master of the game tonight. So far, the baser of them was winning the contest.
 

“You do, do you? So let me in on the secret. What is it that you want this night?”
 

She leaned in, standing on tip toe and he leaned down so she could enumerate the things she wanted in hushed tones near his ear. His already volunteering member taking on a forged steel stiffness and weeping an opalescent tear as she snaked her hands around him, pulling up on the chain that cleaved his arse and pulled his parts tight. When she finished elaborating what she wanted, he stood up and thought a moment. Oh, he definitely could fulfill what she wanted, how much she wanted to take though; that was the question.
 

H olding up a finger, he excused himself a moment and went to help Regg who was juggling the three drinks. As he approached him, quirking a brow up to get his attention he mouthed ‘three-way’? The responding lop-sided grin and squinting smile of his eyes through the mask answer enough. They had done this before, long ago and it would be a good reunion for them. They returned to her, holding the frosted glass against a nipple that insisted on standing out from the beads as it was passed to her, and announced that they together would take her on if she was game. She nodded her assent enthusiastically and the lot was cast.
 

Finding a room along the upper west side corridor, they slipped inside and locked the door. The host would have a key if needs be, but they wanted no additional company. They moved to stand in an open area of the room, near but not too close to the large bed. Regg circled her several times stroking and pinching as he felt the need, while Colb stood off to the side watching. Regg lifted three strings of the beads over her head, twisting them around his fingers testing the strength. She wanted this so hard restraints would not be necessary, but the sensation of it was what he sought. These would work nicely. Stopping in front of her, motioning for her to raise her arms he slid the first string over and brought it down to rest at her waist before beginning to work it to lie closer to her skin.
 

“We will call you woman, and you will call us Sir. Do you understand?”
 

“Yes.”

“Yes?”
 

“Yes Sirs.”
 

“The end comes with the word, ‘No.’ Do you understand?”
 

“Yes Sir.”
 

“Say the word no.”
 

“No.”
 

“No what?”
 

“No Sir.”
 

“The end is complete, and not negotiable. When you say ‘No’, we are done and you will return to the party below no questions, no changes. When you say ‘No’ there is no, ‘I wasn’t ready’, ‘I didn’t mean it.’, ‘Let me try again.’ No means no, and that is the end. Are you ready to begin?”
 

“Yes Sir."
 

Maggie trembled, the gooseflesh on her body standing up in anticipation. This was exactly what she wanted. Hell yes she was ready to begin. Regg took her left hand and walked around to the back of her, fashioning a wristlet of one of the two remaining strings of beads before reaching for the other hand and bringing it back to join the first. A few long moments later her hands were bound behind her back and tied somehow to the string of beads that he had encircled her waist with. Her breasts pulled up and out as her hands had gone back, Regg took his time with each of them twisting the strings of beads around the full erect nipples and squeezing them tight. Colb had moved to stand behind her; she could feel his breath on her shoulders and fought to keep her hands still and not reach back to touch the part of him that should be close. Her core clenched when Regg leaned in and bit down on her. He had gathered all of the remaining beads and crossing them over themselves, had dropped them over her head exposing her breasts fully to his hands and mouth. At the same time Colb had slipped his fingers into the side band of feathers holding up the G-string, pulling up to rub against delicate flesh before sliding the whole piece down, lifting one ankle then the other to remove it completely. Taking an ice cube from one of the glasses, Colb trailed the cube up the seam line of her leg taking it around the cheek of her arse, down the center and around the other. The sensation was sending her duck flesh into overdrive. A hand coming down quickly and hard against the chilled wet flesh of her arse making her realize that she had missed Regg’s command. Snapping her eyes to his, he again commanded,

“Open your mouth.”

Instead of ‘Yes, Sir.’ She simply complied. He used her own tongue to wet his fingers before returning to her breasts to roll and tweak the tight buds of one side while he suckled the other. Switching breasts, rewetting his fingers he continued his assault, winding her tighter. Colb stood behind her still teasing with the ice, moving anywhere he pleased running it along the cleft of her, down to the juncture of her thighs, around to the front and back; teasing her a long while before flicking against her thigh commanding,  “Open.”
 

She adjusted herself to open her thighs without changing too much level that would cause Regg to shift as Colb continued to manually tease her flesh. Reaching around to the front he used yet another cube to slide up and down against her clit, his opposite hand fisting her hair pulling her head back, leaning in to whisper in her ear between biting her throat and shoulder. Changing hands, he palmed a large handful of ice returning to press that against the bundle of nerves at her cleft while stretching fingers back to find her core. Pulling back his free hand and letting it catch some air before landing cold and wet against the cheek of her arse, her hard gasp and the rush of wet against his fingers the answer to the question unspoken he repeated the motion and was rewarded again with a gush of liquid silk. Standing straight, still working the wet between her legs he tapped Regg’s shoulder and head flinched him toward the bed. Regg let go, went to the bed, and sat down still stroking his shaft as he watched them. Her body flushed as she watched him, a lovely color, and evidence of her arousal. Colb speared two fingers solidly up her core and banding an arm around her waist walked her to the bedside all the while sliding the ice back and forth against her.
 

Regg waited until Colb had her standing between his knees before reaching up and knotting her hair out of the way in the bands of beads about her throat. Pulling her forward with a finger under her chin he began his instructions,  “Suck...”

Maggie started to go to her knees but is stopped short when a hard open palm slap against her arse cheek brings her back in check.
“Let’s try again. Suck me. No teeth. Bend only at the waist. Do not lock your knees. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir.”
She stuttered trying to get into position and again felt Colb’s hand across her backside as she didn’t move fast enough, the stinging bite of his cold wet hand from behind preceding the hard jab of his fingers still deep in her core. He didn’t need a diagram to know that he was making her hotter and wetter with each spank. Bending only at the waist, just short of kneeling on the bedrail she began, Regg guiding her how he wanted her to do this. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow. She can feel the knot of his release on the tip of her tongue when she laves the down stroke, but he doesn’t release it, instead pushing her slower or holding her there longer, throwing his head back with each pull of her mouth as she crosses the crest at the tip.

Colb had kneeled behind her trying to vie for better position and with her unconscious resistance had spanked her several more times as she had shifted position trying to follow Regg’s directions. After several attempts to get her into the position he wants, Colb elected instead to change tactics. Taking a crop from the dresser drawer, he gave no warning and held nothing back when he let it loose across her arse. Her instant buck and jerking of her head up and off of Regg earning her another stinging strike.
 

“Can you follow the lead of two men, woman.”

“Yes Sir.”
 

“Do better.”

“Yes Sir.”
 

Her mind was reeling; she knew how to dominate, she knew how to sub; she had not subbed for two men at the same time in a while and was out of practice. Thinking wryly about what she had in fact gotten herself into. Calming her thoughts before she would snicker, she set back to Regg’s erection and tried to settle into a stance that Colb wanted, letting him shift her. He continued his physical assault, causing her womb to weep with each strike. The sting of crop and hand being exactly what she had asked for, she was certain that she was showing welts and could feel the warmth spreading as Colb kneaded and bit the marks he had made. She was settled into the sensations and had to fight not to jump when he grabbed her hips, tilting her slightly and drove home from behind her as he recovered quickly and resumed teasing her senses from front and aft with hands and ice while he bucked. With the tight friction against her clit and the intermittent spanking, she was in bliss and sensory overload, fighting to stay present in the moment and not be carried away.
 

She was on a down stroke with her mouth when several things happened simultaneously. She had not realized that the pressure against the button of nerves at her cleft was gone until there was a hard slap against her ass, and a firm pressure against the knot of her anus. She gasped and swallowed hard then heard Regg take a long hard inhale before speaking...

“Fuck Colb, what did you do? Do it again.”
 

The series was repeated after a brief pause, but this time the pressure against the second opening was more insistent, and wet. Again she swallowed Regg deep and was rewarded with his moaning and thrusting against her soft palate. She fought for control of her gag reflex as he continued to go deep. The grin on his face telling that her how much he liked this change, and that this would now continue; it did. Harder and harder the thrusts and spankings came. The pressure at her arse pushing constantly, and a wet sliding sensation as she was being made ready. She thought about saying ‘No’, not being one for anal, but the rest felt so good, she kept going, reaching for her own release knowing if she could hold out it would come. Several rounds of spankings later, she was accosted by a loud resounding smack across her arse cheek and a hard push against her anus.
 

“Open.”
 

She tried. She really did. She could not think how the muscle control worked and nothing happened except her teetering on breathy tears.
 

“Do you want to stop?”

“No Sir."
 

“Can you open for me?”

“I don’t know.”
 

“Then relax a moment.”

As soon as the command was given and she stopped tensing, stopped fighting for control over what she couldn’t decide if she wanted there was a soft ‘pop’ and she knew he was in. In with what she didn’t know, a finger she thought, but she could feel that he was in, the pressure intense and full. His other hand coming back around her hip, he put firm turning pressure against her clit and again she was warm and wet. As she relaxed into the wave that would take her higher, she felt him pushing in farther from behind and tried not to fight.
 

Regg reclaimed her mouth, taking her face and returning her to the task of his cock. She couldn’t believe he was still not ready to come. She let out a small cry when the precursor to her own release shook her first and a second finger breached her back door. Prodding and pulling, working more of whatever he was using to ease the way, she was completely at their mercy now.

At some silent signal from Colb, Regg took her head with both hands and held her, thrusting up deeply. The intense circles at her clit went into high drive and there was a heavy wetness across her arse as a large dollop of something was worked in and she was stretched wide. With the mad rush of so much she was not surprised when she felt a trickle of come running down her leg and her hips start to take on a small pulsing thrust, she was so close. Harder and faster they worked her and just when she was at the edge there was a hard application of the crop to her arse that nearly sent her completely over and probably would have except in that same flow of activity, Regg thrust up and held her in place while Colb withdrew from her core, thrust hard with his fingers from behind before a hasty withdraw and immediately seated his cock firmly in her anus. She nearly swallowed Regg whole with the sharp inhale at the abrupt change before he let her go.

Colb pulling her up slowly by the shoulders, Regg’s cock slipped from her lips and he helped ease her upright. Leaning in to bite her very sensitive, very erect nipples he shifted her leg and propped her foot on the bed rail. Sliding his hands between her legs, coming back with thick cream, he liberally coated his cock with it before arching his body to seat it and slamming up into her still wet and convulsing core. The position was awkward, but the sensation was beyond description.

Colb pushed, Regg pulled. Regg pushed, Colb pulled. In and out, back and forth she was on fire and walking the edge. Regg returning to play with her breasts and Colb reaching around to thumb her clit between pushes from Regg. She was fighting every bit of it, wanting not to come, not to finish. To be consumed by these two men in concert. The fight was short lived as Colb began thrusting harder from behind with his cock and turning faster with his hand. Regg leaning in, biting down on her nipple as he thrust up she was lost to the storm. A long building wail coming from her throat lasting for an endless few minutes as they continued their domination of her senses as she climaxed.
 

It was Colb, who managed to stop long enough to enquire quietly,  “Are you well?”
 

“Yes Sir.”
 

“Do you need anything?”

With a wry grin, she uttered only one word with a hoarse squeak, “More.”



Please check AbyrneMostyn.wordpress.com for more information on this and other stories by Abyrne or check out the facebook page. Thanks for following along for the last 8 weeks. ~Ab

Swingers Part VII

How do you define Swinging? Can you swing solo? 

 

 

Part VII: All That Glitters

by

Abyrne Mostyn

 

 

Tangyr glanced about the modest room, slipped off her shoes and sat down on a small settee. The gold lame mask in her hand making her smile. It was not your everyday mask, what could it mean? The whorls and scroll work extending up from the area about the temples on the mask making it seem baroque or more than just an identity concealment. Fun.

She unzipped the bag she had been handed and now brought out the items with careful hands, inspecting each of the meager pieces. Upon first glance into the bag she had seen small shimmers of gold and had thought they were pasties. They weren’t. They were similar but something much more than a simple stick on. She wondered absently for a few moments if all the females would be adorned the same.

The first item she withdrew was elaborate gold lame and sequins, something of a paisley shape, but nothing as stodgy as a simple paisley. Reaching in she withdrew an identical, if opposite facing piece. Each one with a small O-ring clasp on the back that didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how they were affixed, or where. Next came out a scoop-looking piece, though it was more a quarter curve that seemed to be more flexible with a tail of feathers opposite the wide top. It too was gold, glitter and sequin. Someone had planned for the dismal March to be broken by quite a party. The clasp on this piece was significant and would be no small matter to attach. Already she trembled with excitement to try them on.

Deciding that the odd piece of the grouping might be easier if she didn’t have to fight with the matching ones, she slipped off her filmy slacks, thigh-highs and her favorite thong folding them carefully before setting them aside. Tangyr studied the piece for a few moments before she figured out it was a clit-clamp. Tricky thing about these types of clamps, you had to be erect to attach it. Excitement had gotten her part of the way, but she was nowhere near enough to the stubborn knot of nerves she would need to attach the piece and get it to stay.

Her own emerald green eyes stared back from the mirror on the wall. Sliding the mask into place she stared, becoming the voyeur and the victim of her own wandering hands. Long slender fingers trailed from knees to hips, around and between the globes of her arse and back to the front again before toying with the top line of the scream of dark curls. Twisting and furrowing, outlining and venturing to the midline and back she watched as she teased herself. Waiting for a short eternity before sliding one finger between the folds to check her progress, damp. Bringing that finger and another with it to her lips she wet them both before returning to the little button she hid at the cleft of her and began a slow pressure-ful turn.

Turning, pressing and turning some more she could feel the bud begin to wrap itself tighter. Feel the clench and unclench all the way through to her stomach. Feel the nipples that she hadn’t exposed tighten to small pebbles and become ultra-sensitive to the slide of her satin camisole. Dipping those same fingers back an inch and sliding up and down within her core, she was more than damp now, but now, she wanted it all. Watching avidly as the fingers came out again shiny and iridescent she changed directions of the turning against her clit, rubbing with a finger along each side of it and a pressure building between. She watched as her lips parted so she could pant, and her free hand scratched streaks up her thigh as she pushed herself higher. Watched as her own hand turned faster and faster, her hips begin to pulse in a rhythm they knew by heart, and her teeth come to bite down on her bottom lip to stifle the cry as she wet the inside of her thighs with the proof that she was ready.

Grabbing a few tissues from the table to wipe up some, she pinched the cross-clamp open and pulling back the labia that were still shiny with her release; she slid the opening over the angry pink bud and released it to grab hold. The immediate tension and pressure nearly had her releasing again. The piece designed to keep her on the edge, a pleasure and a torture all at the same time. The tail that seemed to plume and cover the essentials of her arse seeming very showgirl in her mind, but also something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Wasting no time as her nipples were still standing up for attention, she slipped from her blouse and camisole, rolling the tight tips against her open palms before squeezing the O-rings open and attaching the pieces with the paisley points up and out. The pinching not comfortable, but not uncomfortable either, instead something like a constant biting feeling and again her core wept. This night would be a wet one.

Sliding on the nude slippers, she took off all her jewelry, put her accoutrements in the bag, zipped it closed, locked it, and slid the key band onto her wrist. Setting the bag aside to a shelf with the others, she took one last look in the mirror before opening the door and entering a festival in full swing. Smiling as she recognized Carnival, she hummed as she walked. Making her way to the far table for a drink and to see what was on the menu she stopped abruptly when someone gave a soft tug on the feathers of her tail. The sensation shot an electric current through her clit, up thru her stomach, and nearly had her moaning. Having taken her release before she entered just moments ago, everything was still hyper-sensitive. Turning, she found a tall leggy blonde with honey eyes watching her intently from behind her cerulean mask. The woman pointing to the scratch marks up her own thigh before motioning to Tangyr’s.

“You too?” was all she said. Tangyr’s soft shrug and giggle the only response she could muster as she nodded. The blonde circled her like a lion measuring a quarry, standing behind her, inhaling deeply as she tugged the feathers again just enough to make Tangyr’s knees go weak before she leaned in to whisper in her ear;

“Work the room, have a drink but know this much...I will have you in my bed this night. If you taste as good as you smell right now, I’m not of a mind to share, but your choice. Two of us? Or three?”

Tangyr took all of three seconds to turn the tables on her, circling her as she stood still this time; before stopping behind her, pulling rhythmically and repeatedly on the feathers that controlled the clit, inhaling slowly watching the goose bumps rise on the blondes arms and back before whispering back;

“If you think you can handle me alone, I dare you to try.”


Read Part VI here
Read Part V here
Read Part IV here
Read Part III here
Read Part II here
Read Part I here


Replacements

Welcome to my newest story.  This is going to be something of an experiment for me, as I'm going to write this as it needs to be written every week, and not work it as I would my other projects.  It'll be interesting, if nothing else.

That said, this is always a first draft, and if I missed something in editing, don't beat me up too bad.  Remember:  you get what you pay for.

Replacements

Part Five

I was now Martha's mistress, for better or worse.  It seemed she didn't care about my performance, because over the next three weeks of dom/sub bonding, she professed her love for all I did.  Or was it for me?  She said it was for what I did to her, but sometimes I thought otherwise . . .

I had her come over for that first weekend, which surprised her.  Weekend play was something that didn't occur that often, I gathered, so when I made the offer, Martha didn't refuse.  She must have thought it was going to be all whips and kneeling and . . . well, whatever the hell it was people in "The Life" did when they were together.

I was a novice: I had no experience with the things these people did for entertainment.  So I had to learn--fast. And having Martha around for an extended period of time would help.

Or expose me for the fraud I was.

Mostly what I did was give Martha directions--excuse me, "orders"--and she would follow--excuse me, "obey". As a somewhat manager of my own department before becoming a full-time director of so much more, I knew the difference between barking out orders like a dictator, and issuing orders in such a way that a person doesn't mind doing what you demand.  That was how I treated Martha:  I worked with her in such a way that when I told her to lick the kitchen floor clean, she would relish the task.

Something told me, though, that she would have done that without too much prodding.  I was also under the impression that she held a great number of feelings for me, for Olivia.  It was possible: Olivia had run our division for the last three years, and Martha had worked next to me almost as long.  Assume they'd had a year working together before they discovered they shared a mutual . . . interest . . . which would leave two years for them to develop that interest.

If Martha knew I was different, she didn't let on.  She never showed any puzzlement when I gave her orders, or had her dress me in appropriate wear, or when we even shared a moment together, with her at my feet, and me petting and caressing her, speaking approvingly of her all the while.

Being together in bed would be something entirely different.

Even there, Martha didn't indicate there was anything amiss in this relationship.  Friday night had been easy:  I got up from the sofa and said, "Come with me," and off to the bedroom we went.  I was worried, though--just a little.  My sexual experience with women had been a few nights before, but that night . . . Martha had awakened something inside, and though I was afraid I might flinch, or react badly to something she'd do--or something I might not be able to do--or any number of things that would give up the game; as we disrobed, I felt strangely at ease with her.

We stood facing each other, both naked, and she smiled as I lightly touched her arms, her chest, her neck . . . her breasts.  I'd never realized how soft a woman's skin was, particularly under my soft, moisturized fingertips. Silk on silk, smoothly gliding over each other.  It was an incredible sensation, and Martha was responding to my ministrations in ways far differently that any man I've touched--

The deep blush to her face, visible even in the darkness of the bedroom.  The quivering in her hands and knees.  The light sheen of perspiration just under the curve of her breasts.  The misty glint in her eyes . . . that was one I cherished.

When I'd been with men, and touched them, there hadn't seem to be any concern but rather a look of bored detachment as they waited for me to "get to the business," so to speak.  And when I did get to touching them right where they wanted, they didn't look upon me like a lover with whom they were pleased, but rather a pet that was doing something good.  Half the time I expected to be given a biscuit once I had finished.

Martha's responses were real, heartfelt, genuine.  Every little thing I did for and to her caused her body to react a certain way, for her to feel a certain way, all working in turn with her emotions.  It was a whole different world of love making--though I wondered if she thought of this as "making love," or more along the line that we were going to fuck, and fuck hard, as had happened the other night.

She uttered a soft moan.  "The way you're touching me . . ."  Martha's eyes were half closed as she exhaled slowly between pursed lips.  "So much different than other times, Mistress."

So I am doing things a bit differently, I thought.  "Please, Martha . . ."  I know I was breaking convention here, but I needed to hear something besides titles.  "Call me Olivia."

This opened her eyes, and I expected that.  "Are you--?"  Martha was very confused:  addressing me on a first-name basis was something she obviously hadn't done in years.  "You want this, Mistress?"

I mustered my best 'mistress voice,' without letting my tone break the mood.  "If you call me 'Mistress' again tonight, I'll make you sleep at the foot of the bed."  I smiled as I spoke, letting her see that I wasn't angry.  "That's an order, my lovely sex toy."

That last perked her right up.  "Oh, thank you . . . Olivia."  She reached out to me, touching me lightly, pulling me closer.  "You're so different tonight.  Work getting better?" she whispered.

Yes, it was.  I was dealing with far fewer questions about an employee who tried to commit suicide, and I was dealing with a co-worker who was my personal submissive--

Martha's right hand slid down my side, stopping only when she reached the swell of my hip.  "I feel different as well.  It's having to take over so much--"  She was doing some of the work I used to do in the lab, and I knew she was struggling a little with the responsibility.

"You're doing fine."  I ran the tips of my nails over her cheek.  "You're going to be up to speed in no time."

"But, I--"

"Hush."  I leaned in and kissed her, softly, our lips barely touching, yet making a connection that hadn't been there before.  "This isn't work; there's no talk of business here."  I looked into her eyes.  "There's just us."

Yes, that was that:  no talk of business, no feeling as if we were clumsy with each other, no need to worry if one or the other wasn't acting too differently--

There was just love.  Between us.

The entire night.


Read Part Six Now Read Part Four Again

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