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The Edge

By: Hottquill



He took in the room he had just walked into; the sun was setting amid some clouds. The light spread orange across the horizon and the sky and into their living room. He was nervous. He wasn't sure what she had in store for him. 

Her corset lifted her creamy breasts, tightened around her midriff and stopped a few inches above her panties. Under her fishnet stockings her thigh and calf muscles bulged, enhanced by her heels. Thin rhinestone straps curled over the top of her foot, red toenails shining in the light. Matching red fingernails played with a silk rope, her dark eyes studying him quietly, hunger in her smile. Under his silk robe, he felt the thickening begin, the swelling in his groin that half-embarrassed him, half-thrilled him.

"You look lovely, Mistress," he said. His mouth was dry, his imagination already racing ahead, thickening his cock even more. "Can I get you some wine? Some Perrier?"

She said nothing, simply crooked her finger at him. Her red lips curled in a slight smile. She ran her fingers along the silk cord, straightening it out, eyeing the slight bulge under his silk robe. As he got closer he inhaled the scent of Obsession, and her musky woman scent. He stood in front of her, taller than her, blond, blue-eyed, lips pursed. "Undo your robe," she said, turning her warm eyes up to his, licking her lips, still fingering the silk cord. He obeyed; she was in charge. He was her toy tonight. 

He undid the knot of his robe, and it fell open. His cock was lifting now, throbbing into hardness. She looked down at it, at the veins, the muscular ridges that were becoming obvious. "Good," she said. "I want it good and hard." She moved a hand forward, her careful fingers lifting his cock, now heavy with arousal, running her fingertips along the tender underside, under that sensitive spot at the base of the head, then down to his balls to fondle and squeeze them, gradually increasing the pressure. He whimpered, involuntarily, then she let go and lifted his cock again. His cock was on fire, and he wondered how he was going to control himself at all. 

His eyes widened as she trailed the cord over the top of his cock, then she started coiling it around the base. It was rock hard now, throbbing and erect as he stood there. His cheeks were flushed. There was heat in her eyes. Carefully she wrapped the cord around his cock until there were about 5 coils around it, then she slipped the end under the last loop, and started to tighten, until it was firmly wrapped around the thick shaft. She yanked it slightly, and he felt his cock jerked forward, his hips following as he regained his balance and stepped forward, tugged along by the rope she had tied to his cock. She smiled and yanked it again as she walked over to the wall where the rings were screwed in at the ceiling and the floor. More ropes were on the chair beside the window. 

He gulped. He looked out the window. His cheeks were flaming. If she tied him up there, just there, he would be in front of the window. Even though no one could really see them there, high up on the seventh floor, with this light and the semi-reflective glass, nevertheless it would be possible for someone, from the right angle and with the right light, to see him spread apart in front of the window. He had no choice. 

He gulped again. He knew from times when she made him wear the cock ring that it only increased his arousal while at the same time postponing his release, but he was amazed at it right now. He felt his cock would burst. His balls were already tight. She positioned him in front of the window, then pushed the silk robe off his shoulders, displaying his well-formed body to the empty air outside their building. 

The silk robe lay in a pool at his feet. She kicked it away. She looped a rope around first one ankle and then the other. His cock stood out, hard rigid, pink and purple. 

But she wasn't going to take him to the window. That was just a tease. Instead, she led him to a padded table they had used before, and patted it with her warm hand. "Up you get, on your back." He swallowed and followed her instructions. His cock was now straight up in the air, his chest rising and falling with his hard breathing. "Bend your knees." He bent them. She tied first one ankle and then the other to the small rings at the side of the table, forcing him to move up the table so that his head was hanging over the end. Then she tied his wrists down to the same ring. He was completely helpless now.

She was so incredibly sexy when she was in control. She teased and tormented him mercilessly, she would spread her legs, and then spread her pussy lips with her fingers and show him how wet she was. If she had the oil, she would drip it over her nipples and then pinch and tug them, uttering low guttural growls as she responded to her own arousal. This time, she moved to his head, and took a silk scarf and wrapped it around his eyes. The elimination of the sense of sight heightened the other senses incredibly, so that he was intensely aware of what he heard, smelled, tasted and touched. Her scent now filled his nostrils; he heard some rustling then felt something silk over his face, filling his nostrils with a new scent, tingling across his lips. It was the scent of her pussy. 

"There, baby, how do you like that? You love the scent of my cunt don't you?" When she used the word "cunt" he felt a thrill run up his spine, tingling in his cock. Maybe it was her frankness and openness. Maybe it was the intensity of her need. He nodded his head, moaning slightly. She tugged on the cord around his cock suddenly so his hips jerked to follow it. "Tell me!" she said. "I like to hear you say it. Tell me how much you like the smell of my cunt! Not my pussy. My cunt! Tell me!" Then she jerked the cord around his cock slightly to punctuate her request. It was driving him wild. And she knew it, knew it made his cock throb, drove him mad with the need for release, while at the same time knowing that the perfect tightness of the cord wrapped around his cock also prevented any chance of release. "Yes!" he said quickly, the scent of her wet panties still filling his nostrils. "Yes! I love the scent of your cunt, your hot wet beautiful cunt. I worship it, and its lovely scent!" He breathed harder and harder. 

He heard her move to the foot of the table, where his knees were spread. Then he felt it, the warm oil on his thighs dripping down, then on his cock. Then he felt her fingers scratching down his thighs, to the base of his shaft, then around his balls, then down to the base of his balls, teased and tormenting. She took the head of his cock and squeezed it. Then he felt her fingers again below his balls. Then sliding in the slick oil down to the crack of his ass. He groaned again involuntarily, half with pleasure and half with surprise. 

But she didn't stop then. He felt her fingers tease down the crack of his ass, scratching lightly along the very sensitive skin. She was now touching the skin around his tight hole. He was half frightened, half wanting. It was so erotic, feeling the tender nerve endings stimulated there. Then her finger was pushing, sliding back and pushing in again, teasing and tormenting, until he started to push back slightly. Yes. He wanted to feel her there. He wanted her hot tender fingers arousing him. He heard her chuckle slightly. "You like that, don't you baby? You find that pretty hot, don't you? Would you like me to fuck you a bit with my finger?" Then, without waiting for his answer her felt it, her finger entering his tight hole very suddenly, very slightly, then stopping. He had a sudden intake of breath. He let it out again in a long moan. She pulled her finger out, wetting it again with the oil in the crack of his ass, then sank it again into his tight hole. Slowly it went deeper, and he could feel her moving it, slowly massaging. Unbelievably, he felt his cock jolt hard in response. He knew that if he hadn't had the rope around his cock he would surely have come, so intense was the response. He groaned, almost screamed. He could hardly stand it! He writhed and moved as she teased him carefully. 

Then suddenly she stopped. He caught his breath. He heard her moving to the head of the table. He could smell her scent strongly now. He felt her fingers then at the side of his face, lifting his head up so that it was fully supported. Then he felt her warm skin on either side of his face, the skin of her inner thighs. 

"Now, baby, I know you like the smell of my cunt. Now I want you to taste it, thoroughly. All of it. Up and down. I want to cum on your face baby, let my juices cover your cheeks."

He opened his mouth and reached his tongue out, found her pussy lips and licked feverishly. She tasted hot and sweet and salty at the same time. He ran his tongue along her slit, moving his head back and forth, trying to drive her as wild as he could. He felt her moving in response, holding his head, guiding his mouth. It drove him wild to feel her guiding his tongue, making sure it touched her in just the right way. He felt his tongue part her puffy, wet lips, tasted the salty sweet wetness, then pushed it up against her pussy hole, then he felt her move herself forward and back, his tongue sliding over her hardening clit. He ran it up over her clit, along the one side and then the other, and circling it, hearing her moan and grunt as she started to fuck his mouth with her cunt. It was awesome. His hard cock was waving back and forth, he could feel its weight, tight in its wrapping of small rope, going crazy. Now she was moving madly over his mouth, pressing down on his head then lifting up, tantalizing herself with the delight of her control and his tongue. He knew she was going to cum any second. She loved having her cunt licked. The only thing he couldn't do now which she deeply loved was slide his fingers inside her, or her favorite vibe, which drove her totally over the edge. 

Then she pulled away. His cheeks were coated with her juices, soaking wet. He felt her fingers undoing his blindfold, and he looked up at her corseted body, her wet mound, pubic hair matted. She hadn't cum. He wondered what she had in store next. 

She quickly moved to his side, undoing his wrists and ankles. "Now let's stand up." and she gave a short playful tug on the cord around his cock. It was raging hard by now, prevented from release by the constriction of the cord. He stood up quickly as she tugged him over to the window, spreading his legs apart and tying his ankles to the rings at the baseboard in front of the window, and then his wrists up high, so he was spread-eagled in front of the window. He didn't care. He needed to cum, to cum hard. His cock was throbbing, twitching with desire as she stood in front of him. She lowered the cups of her corset so her breasts swelled up and out of them. Her nipples were hard. 

She slid her hands down her mound and looked up at him with fire in her eyes, teasingly. She put some oil in the palm of her hand, and cupped it along her pussy, then brought her fingertips up to her nipples and pinched and tugged, moaning as she did so. Then she reached forward and pinched his nipples, something that always drove him wild. Like most men, his nipples were very sensitive, something most women seemed unaware of. His body was twitching and writhing. He loved seeing her teasing and pleasing herself. It was just about the most erotic thing he had ever experienced. 

Her fingers then dived into her own pussy, two fingers deep in her cunt before she pulled them out, wet and glistening, placing them now on his lips, so he could open his mouth and taste her again. Then she tasted herself, something that always drove him wild. Finally, her fingers dropped to his cock, his hard raging throbbing cock. She started to undo the rope, and he could gradually feel the electricity starting in it. At the same time she stared to finger her clit. He strained at the ties holding him apart, his body contorting and writhing. Once the cord around his cock was completely loosened, it immediately started to drip, the precum falling in a slow steady stream. 

She knew that at this point he was on the edge, and this is when she really started to torment him. She kept touching him, stroking him slowly, gently, keeping him there on the edge, crying out to shoot his cum over her. She herself was close to cumming he knew, but this meant nothing as far as his own satisfaction was concerned: she could cum two, three, four times - sometimes more than that. She started to shudder with her first orgasm, then to jolt and jerk as she came hard, pushed by her own fingers and his previous work with his tongue. "Please!!!" he said hoarsely. "I need to cum. Please!!" She simply smiled and kept tormenting him, his cock now aching, bursting.

She kept it up until she was ready to cum again. She took the head of his cock, with him still tied, and slipped it up and down along her soaking slit. Still she didn't let him cum. Then she moved back and started to finger herself again, teasing the dripping head of his cock with her fingers. Then she took it in her mouth, her tongue sliding along the shaft then over the head. He couldn't stand it, but still she wouldn't let him cum.

Finally, she was ready to cum again herself. Her fingers were moving faster, and her other hand was starting to knock his cock gently, sending it bouncing with each knock. She came. She shuddered and screamed. Then she stopped. Her fingers slowly massaged the thick shiny head of his cock. 

He could feel it rising now, unstoppable. She knew it. She knew she had him at the point of no return, she chuckled and smiled and continued to squeeze and massage the head of his cock carefully. Then he started to move his hips more vigorously. He was moaning hoarsely. He was going to cum. "Oh yes!!!!" he screamed. Then she stopped. She knew he was going to cum; she loved to see him cum like this, over the edge, without any further stimulation, his cock simply bobbing in the air as the spasms started. Then a short spurt, white hot fluid shooting out a couple of feet. Then his cock bounced some more as his hips jerked uncontrollably. She smiled as another spurt shot out of his thick cock. Then another, and another, accompanied by his heaving groans. When he was finished, she took her fingers and stroked hard, urging a few more small spurts from his quaking, quivering body. He groaned aloud. Completely spent. He was breathing hoarsely, looking down at his own still-hard cock and her glistening body, shiny with perspiration. 

She leaned forward, kissing his lips tenderly. Her careful, attentive hands reached up and undid his wrists. They collapsed at his side. Then she undid his ankles. She kissed him again and smiled, stepping back.

"I think I will have that glass of wine you were offering. Pour one for yourself. After all," she smirked, "you will need some refreshment for the next round."

His eyes widened as he heard her talk about the next round, then looked down at his still hard cock - always the way it was when she kept him on the edge for a long time. He went to get the wine. He certainly would need some refreshment.

The Edge



"You seem off." Sven picked Mimi's plate off the table, one eye on her as he walked into the kitchen. He dumped the crockery in the sink and sat back down at the table. Mimi was still biting her nails and looking listlessly out of the window, mute. "I said, you seem off." He repeated, louder this time. "What's wrong?"

"What?" Mimi looked up, baffled, rubbing her thumb with her forefinger, blood bitter on her tongue. "Oh sorry. It's nothing." She smiled and stood up, kissing Sven on the temple, then rubbing his shoulder blades through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. "I'm glad to be home, that's all."

"Yeah, well," Sven squeezed her hand, "Now you know how I feel. Travelling all over like that." 

"Hmm, " Mimi was still absent-mindedly pushing her thumb against Sven's shoulder, her eyes transfixed on some distant thought and the glittering city beyond. "This weekend was...a little odd for me." 

"Why?" his hand flew to her hip and he pulled her into the chair next to him. "Did work go okay?" 

Mimi nodded, her mouth curling up at the corner, like old paper, "When I was there -- on this team-building thing -- I...I, um, met someone I used to date, way back when." She shook her head, her eyes on the ridged wood of the table.

Sven's face fell and he narrowed his eyes, "What happened?" he asked, "You didn't-"

"Oh god, no!" Mimi's hands curled around Sven's forearm and she forced a smile, "No, no." she retorted, "Of course not. Sweetie, I would never-" she shook her head, "But it made me realise just what you mean to me." She wound her fingers into his, "It reminded me of all the shadows." She whispered, her voice thin as though it were trapped in some far off place from which she could not escape, shouting into the future. Mimi did not look at him and Sven gently placed his hand on her cheek, turning her head away from the thoughts that hung in front of her like some feverish dream.

"Well, hey," he smiled, flashing his teeth, "They're gone now. No need to worry. I don't understand - " 

Mimi nodded, taking a deep breath, her hands cupping his face, "We are so lucky." She sighed, "To think that I found you..." her thoughts trailed off and she planted a soft kiss on his mouth. Groaning, he pulled her nearer, so that she was forced to sit on his lap, their bodies pressed together. 

"It's okay." He said, rubbing her hip gently, trying to sooth her, as if doing so would wear a hole in her soul so that he could peek in and pull the darkness out. 

"Sven, tell me something." Mimi turned towards him and slipped back into the chair next to his. She leant on the corner of the table. "Why are you with me? Really?" she asked, her face still twisted into a mask of doubt.

Sven's brow crumpled and Mimi noticed the muscles in his jaw tense. He sighed heavily and ran his fingers trough his hair. "What the fuck is wrong with you, huh?" he looked up at her and took a deep gulp ofwine, "No matter what I do there is this doubt." He spat the word at her, "I don't know." He snarled, "You tell me, huh?" He slumped backward into his chair, defeated. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." Mimi sighed and she gingerly gripped his hand again, he pulled away sharply. "I had this horrible thought." She looked away, trying hard to blink back tears, "I had this horrible thought that you might just be with me because...because of, you know, the kink."

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Sven slammed his fist onto the table and his glass fell over, shattering sending a pool of inky wine across the dark wood. "Will you stop with this? Please?" he asked, his face incredulous. His fingers dug into her arms, desperate, "I do not know what else I can do." He bit his lip, "to show you what you mean to me. And I cannot be the person to get you over the dark that your doubt has pulled you into." He pulled her nearer, ignoring the shattered glass on the table, the stain spreading outward. "You helped me through so much." He whispered, "You never laughed, or lied or judged me. You were -- are - the funniest, smartest, most cynical woman I have ever met. I love you so much it actually is an ache in my chest." He confessed, blushing slightly. "I cannot give you the answers, you have to find them yourself. You have to get out of this shit because it is ruining us and it is holding you back, Mimi." Sven sounded desperate now, pleading with her, "You are stronger than you know." He tried to reassure her, unsure if he could ever win with her. If he could Sven would happily go back in time and fight those demons that had made her like this. Afraid of happiness. 

Mimi nodded, holding him tight, her fingers grinding into his arms, "I know." She smiled though her tears, "Oh, how fucking stupid of me," she wiped her face and smiled up at Sven, leaning forward and kissing him hard on the mouth, the salt of her tears and the bitter wine mingling between them. She pulled away from him and nodded at the mess on the table. "I'll just-"

"No," Sven grunted and stood up, dragging Mimi with him, the air now static between them. "Want you." He pushed his fingers into her hair and kissed her mouth again, harder this time, mashing their lips together so that Mimi's stomach did a roll, just like the old days. She laughed, running her hand up to his, pressing herself nearer to him, as if she couldn't be close enough. 

"You see," she breathed, a sliver of sunlight in her voice, "You're too good." 

"You are." Sven nipped the tender flesh of her jawline and pushed her onto the sofa., wrapping her in his arms, covering her neck in kisses. She reached up, pressing her back into his chest and leant against him, moaning softly. She twisted in his grip and straddled him, her hands flat against his shoulders, forcing him into the cushions, as their bodies pressed together full of unspoken desire. 

"Want you." Mimi said, "Want you so badly. Need you." She trailed the words over him softly, viscous intent oozing from her so that he groaned and pushed her down, rougher than usual, his mouth hot against her ear. 

"Love it when you're needy." He whispered, laying his weight over her, his tongue glancing off her ear. "Love it when the walls come down." 

That, of course, drew a moan from Mimi, and she bit his lip in retaliation, 'Oh, baby, I want you tonight." She breathed, her arm curled around his neck, "I want you now." Her fingers forced their way under his t-shirt, her tongue to his lips as if she could not crack him open fast enough. She wanted him completely then, with a hunger that widened until it was a great chasm in her heart, so deep she knew she could swallow him whole and then fall inward on herself so that her need devoured everything. 

Sometimes, in the dark , just before the light broke through the windows, she had wondered who needed who more and she felt then that maybe she had been so afraid because she realised that she could not live without him; That her heart would wither in her chest and she could never raise the whip or whisper a kind word to any other man but him. That he was the very centre of the universe and she only a distant star on the edge of his. She moaned against his neck, drinking in his familiar musky smell and planting kisses against his jaw. "I want you, baby." She whispered, "Sven, I need you." She pulled his t-shirt off and his hands soon made their way under her thin shirt, popping open the buttons and pulling her hair free from the band she was wearing. 

"You look so beautiful, kitten." He said tenderly, running his thumb across her face, "Has this ex thing made you like this?" he asked, wedging himself between the back of the sofa and Mimi, running his hand over her belly. Mimi blushed and looked askance at him.

"I just realised what we had." She gripped his shoulder and kissed his cheek softly, "And I don't think I can be with anyone else but you." She whispered. 

"You promise me you didn't do anything?" Sven pressed again, kissing her cheek, "You swear?"

Mimi nodded, "Yes." She said, her voice thick with desperation, "Yes, yes, yes. Oh Sven, I swear. I swear nothing happened, It just freaked me out that's all." Her hand curled around the back of his neck and she pulled him down so that the kissed again, deep and languid. "I only want you." She whispered, "only you." Her hand ran down his naked torso, her fingers meshing with the buttons on his Levis popping them open one by one until she hiked them down and palmed his hard on through his underwear. Sven pulled off Mimi's bra and followed suit, pulling down her jeans so that she had to kick them off, their clothes landing in a pile on the floor, quickly forgotten. 

"I just want you, you know." Mimi drawled, her fingers raking across his shoulder "Hard and deep." 

"Kitten." Sven said nothing else and his hand trailed from her nipple, downward, edging into her underwear, teasing her, his fingers running over the thin fabric. She ground herself against his hand and he smiled to himself, his mind crackling with what she'd just said, knowing that now, at last there was at least a crack in the wall he'd spent so long trying to scale. He grunted against her again, though whether in frustration or desire he did not know. He just knew that he'd give anything to make her happy, this woman who he had dared not imagine. She was his and he hers and yet he found himself petrified that he might lose her, that he was only one move away from watching her slip into the shadows of memory and he would be left horrified, as a dreamer upon waking. And yet, this was not a dream, she was flesh and blood and his. 

Mimi turned away from him, rolling over and grinding the ample curve of her bottom against his skewed underwear. She mewled softly, mumbling something unintelligible and Sven lay out, flat against her, then leaning back on his knees, his palm running down her thigh. 

"In me." Mimi breathed, her voice thick with need, "Fuck me." She commanded, rubbing her bottom in languid circles against Sven's thigh. 

Sven obeyed, slowly running his hands over the thin mesh of her underwear, his fingers disappearing into the waistband as he slowly eased the fabric over her bottom. The breath caught in his throat as he teased the underwear away from her gasping slit, glittering with need. She moaned again, shifting on her knees, pressing her bottom against his thigh, he body aching for contact with his underwear, his hands flattened out next to hers on the sofa. 

"Oh, God, yes." Mimi breathed, "Want you, baby." Her voice was as desperate as he'd heard her in a long while, full of a need that he'd not noticed before. Gently, he kissed her neck and eased himself against her, burying his face in her hair as he moved deeper. Mimi pushed her hips backward so that she felt his thighs against the curve of her bottom. Moving slow at first, they moved together, meeting in the middle, finding pace so that Mimi got louder and Sven was forced to curl his fingers into hers, their bodies writhing together. 

"I don't want anyone else," she moaned, her voice a quick staccato, "No one else," her thoughts raced with desire and she pushed harder against him, shivering as Sven's hot mouth pressed against her neck. "Oh, your cock..." she tailed off, her head dropping forward as they moved faster against each other, Sven shifting and gripping her waist with one hand. He planted a kiss on her back and let his free hand drift between her thighs, catching her slick clit and rubbing it slowly at first, spurred on by Mimi's need for more. Sven sped up and soon she was spasming deliciously around him, her fingers entwined with his, her neck warm against his mouth. She fell flat and he angled her upwards again, jerking into her. 

Mimi let out a low wail as if the feel of him between her thighs was too much to bear. She buried her face in the dark folds of the sofa and he came hard into her, falling flat against her, their bodies tangled together in silent truce. 

Sven kissed her bare neck and lay behind her, his long limbs wrapped around hers. "Mine." He breathed, kissing her shoulder, "Mine, mine, mine." 

Mimi laughed softly and curled into him, her thoughts still scattered, speechless. "And you mine." She breathed, lying against his chest, her fingers tracing across his hipbones. The phrase was very nearly a question.

"Yes." He pulled a blanket that was draped over the end of the sofa around them and propped his head in his palm. "Always." 

Mimi nodded, sated and satisfied; It was all she needed to know. She had brought him to the edge and he had dragged her back.



The Edge



Emily leant back against the warm palm as it ghosted across her alabaster skin. "Abe." She sighed, tucking her chin into her shoulder and nestling into his torso. Square fingers lifted her head from it's comfortable nest to his waiting lips. They were soft and comforting, like a blanket on a cold winter's night. She breathed in, savouring his strong musk.

He bit her gently, teeth sinking into the curve of her lip. She gasped and turned her body to face him, pressing her curves against his firm torso. She trailed a hand down her satin nightdress, dragging his attention with it.

"Slow." He rumbled, reaching down to lift her hand above the equator. "Sensual."

She bit her own lip in mild frustration. "But I want you now."

"Patience." He chided and nipped her ear.

She frowned. Planting a hand firmly in the center of his chest she pushed him away. "Then you learn it. I'm going home."

The man blinked. "What?" His hands stopped moving as his brain caught up. "You can't do that."

"Watch me."

"But there's a blizzard out there."

"But baby it's cold outside." She jeered. "Just stop talking."

She pulled away, irritated. The man who she had thought so handsome and delectable moments ago was now just another trophy that had lost its shine. She snatched her coat before he could offer it to her. "Goodnight Abe."

Despite her deliberate antagonism the man walked her to the door. He may be lost for words but never social graces. How they bored her, these proper types. She wanted to be ravaged, devoured, pushed into the wall and taken with little ceremony and unbridled carnal desire. Not caressed like her skin as no thicker than a petal and as sensitive as a minefield. She would get no satisfaction here tonight.

She stalked through the topiary in a swirl of white powder. She was careful not to look back at the young man who would undoubtedly wait and watch to ensure she got to her car safely. Boring, boring, boring.

She dived into the car, already shivering as a fine layer of snow soaked through her best jacket. She grumbled under her breath as the car thrummed to life but the heater failed to start. Teeth chattering she drove away from her date and into the darkness.

Half an hour later she was crawling through the city at a pace that made public transport look downright appealing. Apparently there was some sort of sports event on. She sighed and gazed out the window, confident that the road wouldn't change any time soon.

Her gaze fell on a young man. He was tucked away between two buildings covered with scaffolding, neatly avoiding both the snow and wind of the freezing night. She found herself staring at the lean body. As her eyes travelled up his torso the man turned to look her dead in the eye. A bolt of heat flashed through her body. Her head snapped forward and she stared unseeing at the car in front of her, gripping the steering wheel as though her life depended on it. As an afterthought she locked the car doors.

She swallowed, painfully aware of the man's gaze. She could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

After five minutes she risked a glance back. The man was still leaning against the wall, infuriatingly nonchalant. He flashed her a smile that made her pussy clench.

Animal instinct took over. Without indicating she pulled out of the long line of traffic leaving the city and drove down the alleyway the ran the length of the factory. She veered into the first park she found, almost forgetting the handbrake. Grabbing her handbag she leapt out of the car before common sense could catch up. This wasn't a time for rationale. She was feeling cagey, frustrated, and the fire raging inside her was ready to burst forth and consume the city.

That young man may be sheltered from the weather but he was still in for a hell of a storm.

She rounded the corner and marched down the street, cursing as the cruel wind whipped under her skirts. She slowed as she approach the gap where the man was tucked away. Doubt began to fill her mind. Her heels clicked loudly in the sudden silence. She bit her lip, suddenly filled with indecision.

"I could do that for you." A low voice purred.

Her breath caught in her throat. A shiver ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the weather.

The man emerged from the alley. Their eyes met and she felt that jolt of electricity again. She nearly collapsed as she realized what it was. Desire. Delicious, dark, carnal desire.

The man lowered her head, his eyes travelling the length of her body. Emily trembled with excitement. She could practically feel him undressing her with his eyes.

He closed the gap and stood so close she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. His head tilted from side to side as he examined her. Apparently reaching a decision, he offered his palm.

"Want?" He asked.

She blinked, suddenly horribly aware of the realities of her situation. "Do you cost?" she blurted out.

He tilted his head back and laughed. "You couldn't afford me."

He let the silence hang, taunting her. She felt the tension coil in her body even before he spoke again.

"Want." He growled quietly.

She swallowed. She could feel herself growing slick from the mere sound of his voice. "Want." She nodded in a series of small jitters.

"Good." He purred and took her wrist, pulling her back towards the alley. She followed, the world closing in until it was just the two of them, two bodies in the night, hungry for flesh and a channel for their passion.

Down the end of the alley was darkness only punctuated by reflections from the city nightlife. It was remarkably empty and far quieter than the streets surrounding.

"What's your name?" she asked, regaining her senses a little.

The man grinned. "Call me Beast."

She giggled nervously. "I suppose that makes me Belle?"

He shoved her against the wall, mashing her face against his. "That makes you prey." He hissed, his hot breath and deep growl sending electricity shooting like fireworks her body. He bit her lightly and dragged his teeth along the rim of her ear. She gasped, astounded by how sensitive she suddenly was. His fingers curled into her jacket and dragged it off her, exposing her shoulders the unforgiving night air. One tug and the sash of her dress uncoiled, leaving it with no option but to slide down her body. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the smooth touch of silk rolling across her skin. She jerked as the dress was ripped from her body and he was all over her, his mouth devouring ever inch of her flesh. Nails dug into her back and hips, pulling her in. Moans and cries escaped her throat as his hot mouth and slick tongue found their way to her breasts. With one deft move her bra fell away. The man stepped back, drinking in the view as she became painfully aware of the temperature. She curled in on herself, trying to keep warm. He stepped in and pinned her arms against the brick, exposing her torso to the cruel weather and his intense scrutiny.

She whimpered and dropped her eyes to the ground rather than meet that gaze. But she could still feel him watching her. She raised her eyes in time to see the corners of his mouth twist into an animalistic snarl as she twitched.

"Mine." He growled and bit her left nipple. She cried out, lifting her head to the skies and involuntarily spreading her legs. Good god she wanted him, she wanted him more than anything in her life. She wanted him deep inside her, tearing her apart, taking her just because she was there. She wanted it to so much.

His deft fingers rolled her right nipple while his teeth scrapped her left. She whimpered as she felt the hand leave her breast and flinched when it gripped her panties. She bit her lip, caught between hope that he would to tear them off her and the fear that he actually would. Instead the grip relaxed. His rough fingers began to stroke her firmly through the thin wall of lace. Her head fell back as he expertly rolled her clit between his fingers. Her hips pushed back as the pressure began to build inside her, desperate not to lose that touch for a second. The warmth spread through her body, flushing her skin and lighting a fire inside her. She was uttering nonsense, thrusting her whole body against the incredible hand as she raced towards relief. She collapsed against him as wave after wave of sweet pleasure crashed through her, leaving her trembling and weak. It was the most intense thing she had ever experienced.

She was seized by the desire to return the favour, to reward the man that had brought her such incredible sensations. "W-want." She whispered and tugged at his belt. The man's sly grin returned and he stepped away from her. She cursed at the sudden cold.

"Fuck you're sexy when you swear." He remarked as he casually dropped his jacket. She gazed hungrily as he tugged off his shirt to reveal a lean torso with a deep-cut V. Her hands reached out of their own accord and ran across the exposed skin to tangle in his body hair. He growled as he tugged at his belt. Impatient, she slipped her fingers inside his pants, still playing with the soft trail of hair that covered his chest. He hissed as she bit his stomach. She ginned, delighting in scraping her teeth across those abs again and again. The fingers twined around his wiry pubic hair, unable to reach any deeper. With a grunt he ripped his belt off and dropped his pants, exposing his throbbing cock to her waiting hand. She touched it gratefully, reveling in the silky skin. Adjusting her grip she began to pump. Watching her hand slide up and down his length as he panted she was suddenly seized by the desire to taste him. Without warning she engulfed him with her hot wet mouth, running her tongue along the head and shaft so much that her mouth tingled. It tasted delicious. No, no tasted, felt. He felt like a mouthful of sherbet and sweet hard candy, smooth yet sparking excitement all down her body.

The man grunted abruptly and pushed her off, dragging her to her feet. His eyes burned. Gripping her shoulders he spun her to face the wall and shoved her. She fell over, bracing against the cooling bricks. She could feel his hard flesh probing at her entrance and the thrill nearly sent her over the edge again.

He pushed inside her, stretching her, and began thrusting so hard and fast that she screamed. Her world exploded as he rammed into her, smashing against the spongy wall of her cervix to send out sparks of pain and pleasure until her stomach clenched in protest. He yanked her hair, jerking her head back and shifting her just enough for him to miss that point and strike the one below. Fireworks bounced around her body and electricity surged beneath her skin as he struck that spot again and again. She moaned uncontrollably as her body jumped between tense and limp until she was clutching the wall just to stay upright. The man released her hair and hooked a finger in her mouth as he crushed her into the wall. She ran her tongue across the tip and was rewarded with the feeling of a thousand bubbles bursting on her taste buds. She sucked at it furiously, greedy for more of the orgasmic sensation.

The man groaned as her hot slick walls clenched around him. Removing the finger from he protesting mouth he gripped both her hips and pounded deeper into her. She was grateful for his strong grip and the firm wall as she nearly collapsed from the intensity of the next orgasm that ripped through her.

"Fuck..." she groaned and hoisted herself up higher against the wall. "Fuck me. Fuck me!" she wailed as the incessant need rose again. The man complied eagerly, forcing her up against the wall until she was standing, his cock driving up from below to impale her. The cool bricks dug into her chest and stomach as the searing skin slid across her back.

She fell through time and space until she hit heaven, falling over and over the edge of ecstasy. Each time she grew weaker and each time the man changed position until they only had enough energy left to lay on top of each other. She rolled over onto the cold ground and the delicious beast of a man climbed on top of her, thrusting into her with the last of his strength. The pace grew as he reached the edge and the pressure built inside her one last time. She pushed back against his pulsing cock as he shouted a curse to the sky and found the sweet relief he had given her so many times that night. She convulsed as the warm liquid filled her, scratching herself on paraphernalia as she squirmed with pleasure. With a grunt he collapsed on top of her, spent.

Above her the stars began to swirl. She closed her eyes, warm and happy, and the world slipped away into darkness.

When she awoke the man was gone. She was alone, naked and cold in a dark alley. Her muscles and crotch ached. Wincing, she staggered to her feet and got dressed. The man had tucked her clothes to her a crevice in the wall, hiding her handbag. She smiled at that.

Hitching up her bag she tottered out of the alley, smiling broadly. It may not have been comfortable, it may not have been glamourous, but damn it had been hot.

Back in her car she took a moment to check through her purse. She didn't know how long she had been unconscious for. It was still dark so it couldn't have been long. Her wallet, phone and various items were all still inside, along with a note. She unfolded it carefully.

"546 789 355.

Swear for me sexy.

Cain"

Emily looked up from the note at the breaking dawn and smiled. "Well fuck."



The Edge



I step into the room, excited, barely able to catch my breath with the anticipation. I stand for a moment in the doorway, both to give to you the chance of taking in my appearance, and so compose myself. I want to present a cool, calm, controlled front, not to betray how excited I am. I am dressed in a leather jacket with leather trousers and tight, thick leather gloves. Big black boots complete the appearance and add to my height, making me seem like a somewhat more impressive figure. Composed and ready, I step into the chamber, lit only by a single bulb overhead.

You stand there in the middle of the room, looking as nervous and at the same time as excited as I am. Your hair is done up nicely, and you’re wearing a beautiful black dress. You smile nervously as I enter and lock the door.

“Are you ready?” I ask,

You nod. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice betraying your excitement.

“You’re sure?”

You nod again.

“Oh yes.”

I step slowly over to you until I am standing about a foot in front of you, looking down at you.

“You look pretty,” I comment.

“Thank you.”

I place a hand on your shoulder, the cool leather making you tremble slightly at the touch.

“Very pretty”.

I slide my hand along and brush the dress strap from your shoulder. I place my other hand on your other shoulder and do the same, afterwards giving the dress a little tug. It falls to the ground around your bare feet, leaving you standing there, still shivering but more through anticipation than cold as the room is quite warm, wearing only lacy white thong and bra.

“Nice choice,” I admire approvingly.

“Thank you,” you say again. “I… I wanted to look my best.”

I say nothing, but reach around and unclip your bra, which falls to the ground also. I lean forward and kiss you lightly on the cheek, running my mouth down around your neck and onto the soft, firm flesh of your breasts, which I kiss and gently lick and tease with my tongue in turn. A small sigh escapes your lips and you lean forward gently into me, closing your eyes.

“No!” I snap, standing back, making you shudder slightly with the sudden cessation of feeling.

“What did I do?” you ask.

“Keep your eyes open unless I tell you to do otherwise,” I instruct.

“I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

An air of menace and darkness has come down on the room. Just the way I like it. I step forward again, standing right in front of you so you can feel my breath against your cheek as I lean down to whisper into your ear.

“I’m going to make you suffer,” I whisper. “And beg. You understand?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, excitedly, but afraid also. Suddenly, you feel one leather-clad finger rubbing gently against the thin material of your thong, stroking repeatedly just to get you gently warmed up. You half-close your eyes and I stop stroking.

“No,” I whisper firmly. You open your eyes full again and I resume stroking, a little harder and faster this time, the thin material gently becoming damp as your excitement increases.

“Do you like that?” I ask. You moan slightly and start to speak, but I shush you. “You do, I can tell. You want more?”

You nod. I stop and pull back.

“Well what makes you think you’re going to be getting anything you want tonight, Miss Molly?” I laugh. You gasp slightly, but stand still in the same spot, waiting, itching, aching for more but at the same time not wanting to provoke me.

“N-nothing,” you reply.

“Who’s in charge this time?”

“You are.”

“Good.”

I use one of your old tricks, walking around you slowly in a wide circle, looking at you, not saying or doing anything, keeping you waiting, anticipating, wondering. Eventually I come closer and, from one of the pockets in my jacket, produce a soft velvet blindfold, which I bind tightly around your eyes. You do not protest, but I can feel you tense slightly. I smile to myself. This is beginning to become very enjoyable, it’s all I can do to pace myself and work you over slowly, rather than ravish you where you stand.

“Now we can begin,” I say.

“I thought we’d pretty much started…” you mumble.

“What was that?”

“Nothing?”

“Really? I’m sure I heard something… Just to be on the safe side, perhaps we should make sure it’s only me doing the talking.”

Before you can say anything in reply I have covered your mouth with a leather gag that covers most of your face as well, restricting your breathing. No safe words now, no pleas, no begs, just you under my control. My plaything, to do with as I will.

“I’m going to enjoy this…”

I take you firmly by the arms and guide you back onto a long metal table, which I push you down onto, laying you flat on your back. I spread-eagle your limbs, which you surrender to my control, you tie you tightly down to four rings on each corner of the table. The metal is cold against your back making you tense against your bonds – I hear your breath increase as I walk around and place my hand between your open, defenceless legs. I begin to stroke you gently again through your flimsy thong, this time harder and firmer with two fingers. You moan gently.

“A little more?” I ask. I push deeper and make the strokes last longer, feeling you try pointlessly to push yourself down onto my fingers, to satisfy the burning desire growing inside you, which I am stoking the flames of without satisfying, bringing you closer to the edge.

Then I stop again, enjoying watching you jerk against the bonds that hold you in surprise and cry out in unsatisfied longing.

“You still think I’d make it that easy?” I laugh. I reach down and, pulling tightly, rip your thong away, leaving you completely bare and even more helpless than you were before.

There is silence for a few moments as I stand there, watching, waiting, keeping you in suspense, a tactic you have always used to such great effect I wonder if you have the same sensations now as I have done when writing helplessly, in glorious torment, under your control in the past.

You feel dampness, warm water, I’m gently rubbing a wet cloth against you, making sure I rub it just enough to bring you to simmer again but not nearly enough to bring you to the edge. I think you can guess what I’m doing, can’t you? Even if you can’t, you realise soon enough as the cloth comes away to be replaced a few moments later by the icy steel touch of a razor blade.

“Have to make sure you’re nice and smooth and presentable… Not to mention easily accessible.” Perhaps you whimper a little for the first time as I slide the razor down across your hair in long, careful strokes, shaving you smooth and bare.

“Like a porn star,” I laugh, although I doubt that makes you feel any better about it. The cloth comes back again as I wipe you clean and smooth, then there is silence as I stop again and leave you there to think, fear and wonder.

After a few minutes, I come back towards you. You’ve had time to cool down, to calm yourself. You think you’re ready to take anything I’ve got to throw at you, but at the same time you’re wondering what I could have thought of to try and make you suffer more than you have done already. Well, what’s already done has been child’s play compared to what’s about to come.

“I once read about this,” I explain coolly. “I’ve always been quite interested to see if it works.” You can’t see what I’m doing, but you hear me setting something up over the edge of the table. I walk around to your head and stroke your hair gently, letting a finger trail tenderly down the side of your face.

“Quite an exciting idea, I thought,” I tell you. I reach forward and turn a control. Nothing happens for a few moments, then you feel a drip of water splash onto the inside of your thigh and trickle slowly downwards.

“Oops, a little off-target,” I mutter. I reach forward and adjust the nozzle of the tall, thin tap that is arcing over the gap between your legs.

“That should do it I think.” 

There is another drip. That one hits the spot. Your back arches as the drip splashes over your most sensitive of spots, setting you going for just a second before it trickles down to the table top, leaving you aching and unfulfilled.

“Oh yes, that’s definitely it,” I smirk.

Ten seconds pass.

Drip.

The same effect, a moment splash of sensation that leaves you craving, needing, aching for more and not getting it. You moan desperately and strain at your bonds harder than ever before, but I’ve tied you down very, very tightly.

Drip.

It’s only been three drips, and already you’re on the edge of madness from it. I laugh.

“I thought you could take more than that,” I mock, adding just a splash of verbal humiliation to compliment the physical torment.

Drip.

“What was that?”

You’re trying to say something through the gag, but of course I can’t make it out. Perhaps you want me to stop, to let you go. Perhaps you want more. Of course, I can’t tell. If I took the gag off I’d know, but I don’t think I shall.

Drip.

Oh how good it is to see you squirm, struggle, do anything to try and get some release, some satisfaction, something to complete the urge building up inside you, the desperate, aching want for something to push you over the edge. I wonder how long you can stand it, laying there, the drips coming every ten seconds, keeping you bubbling hot but not letting you go.

Drip.

I think I shall leave you there for a little while, as I prepare for what’s to come next. I do hope you enjoy yourself…

Drip.

How long has it been? Twenty minutes? I can see you’ve been trying to keep yourself out of the way with some of the give in your bonds, but it seems to find its spot more often than not. My my, but you do look so hot and flustered. Is that a tear or two I see escaping from your blindfold.

Drip.

More moisture, hot fitting. Tears of anger, of fear? No, of frustration. I can tell. How hot are you?

Drip.

I put a still gloved finger to you and you buck and jerk wildly, trying to push yourself down onto it, but I take it away before you get the chance.

Drip.

Oh you’re hot all right, hot and wet. You’re shivering again, this time with the outstretched thrill of it. I stop the tap and unclip it from the side of the table. You sigh in relief, but you won’t be so thankful for long. Suddenly, from nowhere I slide an ice cube against you. You almost scream at the cold of it as it hits the brakes very firmly on your arousal, bringing you slamming back down to Earth from the almost maddened state you were in. I push it gently until it slips almost inside you and begins to melt gently against your warmth.

“Better?” I laugh.

You do nothing but give a slight moan of submission.

“Ah, now you realise,” I whisper, leaning over the table to flick my tongue gently against you, then up over your belly back to your breasts. “Now you realise how pointless it is to struggle. You’re all mine, and you don’t get release until I say so.”

I walk down to the end of the table where your feet are. You hear me opening and closing a box and connecting something, although you have no idea what it is. Suddenly my hands are at your bound ankles and I slip two small plastic suckers, one on each side just above where the rope ties you, onto each ankle. The suckers are connected to thin electrical cables.

“Do you remember reading about these?” I ask as I flick a switch and you feel a warm glow of arousal and excitement suddenly spread all the way through you. You strain against the ropes again as you try to find something to press against to relieve the longing but can find nothing.

“I thought it might perhaps be fun to try them out,” I tell you. “In theory they can keep you teetering on the edge for as long as they’re switched on, passing a low electrical current through you that keeps you turned on, ready and waiting and only needing one slight touch in the right place to set you off…” I hover a finger millimetres away from the spot, so close you can feel it just about you even if you cannot see it.

“The question is, of course, will you get the touch…?”

I have with me a small feather – another one of your favourites, as I recall – which I run gently up the inside of your left thing, before skipping across and running it equally lightly down the inside of your other thigh. You squirm, both in avoidance and an attempt to find some satisfaction from somewhere, anywhere, now you’ve been driven half to madness by this constant pushing to the edge, but you cannot find it. I run the feather down your legs and brush it along the soles of your feet, making you shriek as it tickles and torments you, but I’m in no mood to let up. I dance it all over your body, your stomach, your breasts, your arms, legs, everywhere but that one spot where you need it, where the slightest touch would send you on a cascade of pleasure.

I carry this on for quite some time, provoking more tears of frustration and desire, until suddenly I stop. You tense, thinking perhaps that this time will be the one, I will finally show you some mercy and allow you to reach orgasm.

But oh no, there’s still more.

I switch the machine off and disconnect it. Then I climb onto the table, kneeling over you, you can feel me holding myself just a few centimetres above you, looking down at your poor tormented, pleasured form waiting, hoping for some kind of release.

You hear a zip gently being opened, and you gasp with excitement.

I lean down and forward so I am almost but not quite ready to slide into you, to begin to satisfy that burning, that longing.

“This is going to be the best bit…” I whisper.

You moan gently as I slide into you, pushing yourself forward as much as you can to take me in as quickly as possible. I slide in and out in a slow rhythm, gently getting harder and faster, feeling the sweat breaking out all over your body and your breaths becoming quicker and quicker and we buck and move together, I can feel how hot, how desperate you are and how much you want it, need it, I feel a stirring within myself as I reach the edge too.

We become quicker, and moan loudly.

“Is this what you want?” I ask.

You nod and try and scream yes through the gag.

“Almost there…”

I feel you tense as you reach the point, and I too am getting there.

Then I pull out and leap from the table.

It was not easy for me, but worth it, simply to see the reaction in you. You almost spasm with the sudden shock of final pleasure denied and your moan of agony is clear and sharp even through the gag that covers your face. I cannot stop myself from laughing.

“You’re far too trusting,” I tell you. “You let yourself go, let yourself get really into it thinking I was just going to let it happen. You were of course wrong.”

You’re sobbing now, openly sobbing with the rage and the frustration of it as you lay there, a quivering, turned-on, desperate woman, taken to the edge and held back for longer than she can remember, her mind buzzing with the energy of it. I leave you there for a few moments, then I come forward and gently, slowly, walk around the table untying you. I take your hand and help you to stand – you’re a little unsteady on your feet, but you manage it.

The blindfold comes next, followed by the gag. You stand there, naked, free, but disbelieving.

“Is that it?” you ask.

“Yes,” I tell you. “That’s it.”

“But… But…”

“But what?”

“But I never even… You know…”

I laugh.

“You expected me to let you?”

“I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” I tell you, laughing still. “That was quite magnificent.”

“I can’t believe it,” you say. “I cannot believe it. I can’t believe you did that too me!”

“And you loved every minute of it.”

“Yes, I did, but…”

“That’s all, I believe, Miss Molly.”

“But…” 

“That’s all.”

I unlock the chamber and leave. You stand there, not quite yet comprehending all that’s just happened to you, your mind still a daze, still aching, still burning, still unsatisfied…

THE END



The Edge



I never head him coming up behind me.

By the time James had his hands on my wrists, had my arms twisted up behind my back, it was too late - I was in his control.  It was all I could do to keep the smile from my lips when I felt his breath hot against my ear.

“You’re mine, little one . . . MY little fucktoy”

My teeth bit into my bottom lip to stifle a moan. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, his masculine scent filling my head.

“Yes, Sir. Your’s Sir,” I managed to stammer.

He shoved me down the hall to the bedroom, my toes barely touching the ground. His every motion was barely controlled lust, his touch insistent, his grip so tight on my wrists I knew I would be wearing long sleeves for a week.

The bedroom door kicked open, the room behind dimly lit with candles placed around. Whatever James was planning, it was clearly nothing spur-of-the-moment. I barely had time to take it the scene when he slammed me face down to the bed. His hand snaked into my hair, jerking my head back.

“I’m going to take you....use you... make you beg for it”

This time the moan spilled unbidden from my lips, “yessss . . . please Sir . . . ”

He flipped me to my back, his knees pushing my legs wide. I waited for him to tear my clothes off, watching his eyes, so dark, so filled with an almost angry need.

To my surprise he guided my hands to leather cuffs, snugging the cool black leather against my wrists.  He smiled ferally down at me, drawing my arms tight, shortening the straps on the cuffs until my shoulders ached.

He moved down the bed to my legs. His hands were firm, warm even through my jeans. My spread thighs quivered under his touch. I felt him remove my sandals, gasping as his hands brushed over my bare skin, feeling an almost electric spark jump from him to me.

He slipped rope loops around my ankles, tensioning them, forcing my legs wide.

“But sir I’m still dress-”

His hand closed around my throat, jerking my gaze to his. 

“Silence. I will NOT tell you again. Do you understand?” His eyes were dark, glittering shards of obsidian as he looked down.

“Yes Sir,” I swallowed another protest.

James stood from the bed . . . blowing out a few of the candles, lowering the already dim light in the room. He pressed a button on the CD player, filling the room with a low, smoky saxophone solo. The volume was just loud enough that the music filled my ears, and tied as I was I couldn’t quite see what he was doing off to the side of the bed. I felt the bed shift under his weight again, saw his hands move over my face, snugging the blindfold in place - and plunging me into darkness. He ran fingers over the edges of the black velvet, ensuring it would stay in place and then got up from the bed.

The blindfold and the music left me completely cut off. I was lost in a tiny black bubble, my universe drawn down to a tiny sphere. I moved my head back and forth, straining for any hint of where he was. I ached for his touch, his presence. Tugging experimentally against the leather confirmed that the cuffs were tight and not likely to release me. I was completely under his control, and I wasn’t even sure where he was.

And I loved it. My body was alive, every nerve tuned like a taut wire, my pussy so wet I could feel the hot flow of my juices against my shaven skin.

The music dipped low, the sax trailing off as one song ended and another began. For a moment I thought I heard him breathing, thought I could feel him close but dismissed it as an over active imagination brought on by my sensory deprivation.

Then I heard the low, cold metallic “click” in my ear.

It was so close, so sudden, I tensed against my bonds. My mind raced to identify the sound. What was it? What toy do we have that sounds like that? What was he planning? It was only when I felt the cold metal flat against my cheek that I recognized the sound, one I had heard many times - just never in the bedroom.

His cherished Swiss Army Knife.

I could barely breathe. I didn’t want to move a muscle, wanted to deny the fear I felt racing through my body, cold tendrils coiling in my gut.

The metal slid down along my throat, trailing a line of chill over my skin. Involuntarily, I swallowed hard, the edge shifting against me. My mind was a whirlwind. He’s not cutting me . . . not yet. My god what is he planning? I knew he took great pride in his boyhood knife, still carried it in his back pocket. But mostly what was filling my mind at that moment was how he always made sure its edge was keen. I had a flash to just the day before when he had honed the blade and checked its sharpness by slashing cuts through the edge of a piece of paper.

The tip of the blade pressed against the hollow of my throat, a pinprick on my skin. The blade turned in his hand . . . the edge . . . my god where was he going to use the edge?

The fabric of my T-shirt parted like a whisper cutting through silence. I sagged against the bed, suddenly aware of the tension in my arms and legs. He worked deftly, almost surgically, slitting the shirt from my body, leaving only my bra. My nipples were chips of stone, hard, begging for his touch, his mouth, the smooth fabric of my bra feeling like a prison for them, but he moved on.

The tip of the knife dimpled my skin again, tracing tiny circles. It’s sharp enough that I might not even feel it if he cuts me. He slid the blade flat against my stomach, the tip pushing under the waistband of my jeans.

“No, baby these are my good-“ My protest was cut short by his hand on my mouth, gripping my face roughly. I felt the bed shift, his mouth pressed to my ear.

“I warned you. Now I am telling you. The next time you open your mouth, I’m going to smack your pretty face. If you understand, then you will nod. Don’t speak even to answer me. Clear?” My cunt throbbed and I nodded as best I could in his grip.

He put his hand back on the handle of the knife, twisting it suddenly, jerking the metal against my skin. The denim tore under his attack, but not nearly as easily as my thin shirt. He slit my jeans all the way down one slender leg, then back up the other. His hands finished the job, ripping the fabric from my body, casting it aside.

The warm air of the room caressed my bare skin and I flushed when I realized how wet I was. I was sure he could see the effect he had on me, knew that the thin white cotton panties I was wearing were no doubt slick with my heat, almost transparent against wet flesh. I twisted as best I could against my restraints, wanting his touch, any touch against my sex. My body craved him in a way I had never felt before, made all the worse for the way he seemingly ignored my need.

He lay the open knife on my stomach and got up from the bed. Again, I was lost, adrift. I wanted to know where he was, but the music and the blindfold stymied my efforts. All I could feel was a burning, growing lust in the centre of my being like a burning coal. I could catch snippets of activity, a half-heard movement on the hardwood, a rustle of something moving, but other than that I was alone.

His hand closed over the handle of the knife and I felt his warmth near me again. As his legs touched mine I realized he had stripped and was lying with me, naked. His cock brushed against my leg and I bit my lip to stifle the low, shuddering moan that filled my throat. He was hard, so hard, slick with precum, and obviously as aching with need as I was.

James moved again, the bed rocking under his weight. Suddenly I felt his knees on either side of my head, and his cock against my cheek, slicking my skin with his precum. I leaned my head back towards him, lips parted, tongue seeking his manhood. My lips closed over the swollen head, filling my mouth with the taste of him.

“Jessusssssss. . . .” he hissed.

His hand cupped the back of my head, and he slid his hips forward, forcing more of his cock into my mouth. I moaned hungrily around him, straining My head back to take more of his erection. I was a wanton, drooling slut, aching to be used, needing him inside me. My pussy contracted with each thrust of his hips, each grunt of pleasure echoed by my own body. He drove forward and I felt my throat bulge as his cock speared deeper. I swallowed obediently around the thrusting head, needing him deeper, wanting him to fuck my throat. Every motion of his hips drove me closer to cumming, the slick feel of my pussy rubbing against itself driving me insane.

With a low groan, he drew back from my mouth, withdrawing his cock. I almost cried in frustration as he moved away from me, leaving me with his taste filling me mouth, his scent in my nose.

He slid the blade up between my ample breasts, the metal now warmed from contact with my skin. I felt my bra part like a cloud, the thin lace offering no resistance. He teased the blade against my nipples, and this time no force on earth could have stopped the groan from escaping me. I felt him move suddenly as I gasped, then a prick of sudden pain, the warm up welling against my skin as a single drop of blood spilled over my flesh. My pussy convulsed at this sensation. My god . . . if he keeps this up, I’ll cum before he touches me.

His hand against my panties was warm, almost hot on my flushed skin. He traced the outline of my shaven folds with his fingertip, my hips bucking against his touch. His hand lay flat on my tummy, pressure holding me in place down on the covers.

“Be still, pet. I don’t want to cut you again.”

The knife edge under the waistband of the cotton panties was almost too much to bear. The moan that spilled from my mouth was an agonized, choking sob of animal need. The back of the blade pressed against my hard clit as he turned the knife to cut my panties from my body. The air was cool on my bare folds, exposed at last. Again, the sudden sensation brought my body to the edge of the precipice. My head swam, overwhelmed by him, by his assault on my senses.

I was laid bare before him, physically and mentally, all defences stripped as surely as my clothes. Great wracking sobs escaped my throat, wanting to beg, knowing he’d punish me if I did.

He cut the ropes holding my legs, leaving the loops tight on my ankles. I though he was going to release me, but instead his hands were on my thighs, pushing them wide. My hips lifted into the air, offering my body to him. I felt his cock, hot . . . hard . . . slick, pushing into my sex.He entered me slowly, my god so slowly. I marvelled at his self control; by this point I was a wreck. I bit my lip hard, straining against every impulse to release, to let the orgasm overtake me.

The CD spun to a stop, the sudden silence of the room filled only with our breathing. He had barely moved after entering me, my pussy pulsing and gripping his invading erection, his hands gripping my thighs. He drew back slowly, his cock moving easily in my dripping folds.

“Cum for me.”

Even before he drove forward, slamming my body to the covers, as soon as his words penetrated the haze of desire overwhelming my thoughts - my body reacted. The glowing ball of need at my core became an explosion, orgasms rippling through me as he took me. His motions became more frantic, hammering into me savagely. He ripped the blindfold from my eyes, my unfocussed gaze meeting his at the moment his own control slipped away, the civilized veneer over the animal beneath torn aside. I was his toy, possessed as surely as if his name were emblazoned on me. I watched his eyes close, felt his body tense against mine, felt his muscles tighten, and came around him again in anticipation of his release.

With a low, ragged growl of pleasure, he came explosively, hot cum erupting deep inside my quivering walls. His body pistoned back and forth a few final times, forcing tiny mewls of pleasure from me. Finally, his body sagging against me, he rested his head against my breasts, slick with our commingled sweat, marked with my lifeblood. My legs wrapped around his, drawing him tighter against me.

The last candle gave a sputter, a hiss and died, plunging the room again in darkness, leaving James and I alone in a world of murmured pleasures.



The Edge



Authors note: This story is a work of fiction and should not be used as a guide to the lifestyle or techniques of the BDSM world.

This story will have five parts. I will try to update once a week. This chapter is just a bit of smutty backstory. 

*~~~~*

I walked around him, inspecting his form as my cock grew harder by the second, his beauty and submission almost too much for me to handle. His head was bowed so I couldn't see his face but I heard his breathing accelerate as I ghosted my fingers down his bare back. Nude, he kneeled before me, his hands laced behind his head and his ass resting on his heels, completely vulnerable and at my mercy. 

I had wanted him like this for so long. 

I had first seen Evan at a play party, strapped tight to a custom made whipping bench as Master Jace paddled him. Before him, no one at the party had really caught my eye but as I watched his pale flesh turn a beautiful rose color, I was utterly enamored. Not to mention painfully hard. 

There wasn't a single person in the room that could rival his beauty. Firm and lithe, his tall build was sculpted with lean muscle, not overly built but built just enough for his muscles to strain against his bonds, rolling and tensing every time his Master took the paddle to his beautiful ass. His hair was an odd color, brown or copper, maybe a mixture of both and it was completely untamed, sticking up in every direction but somehow, it was perfect. Wearing a thick, black collar, the harsh color contrasted amazingly well with his alabaster skin and, for the first time in my life, I felt a twinge of jealousy that it wasn't my collar around his long neck. 

I wanted him. Badly. 

After thoroughly paddling him, Master Jace had Evan get on his knees and bring him to orgasm which, not surprisingly, took a short amount of time. It had been easy to see that Evan was a wonderful sub, very attentive and responsive, not an ounce of hesitation or defiance. 

Later that night, I had talked with Master Jace as we lounged on the black leather sofas that were placed next to the side stage. The club was standard, I suppose, a bit stereotypical in my opinion. Deep burgundy paint covered the walls and ceiling and the floor was black tile, black leather couches were sporadically placed with small tables next to each that had bowls of condoms and trial size packets of lube. In front of each couch were low rise bondage tables, equipped with wrist and ankle cuffs as well as D rings lining each side. Overall, it was dimly lit, candles in each corner and hanging from the ceiling in typical medieval fashion providing the only light, with the exception of the bright spot lights that were directed at the stages. 

The only thing that made the club even remotely enjoyable that night was the man in front of me. 

Sitting at Jace's feet was Evan, his head on his Jace's thigh while the leather leash from his collar was still wrapped around his Master's wrist. Since he was no longer performing, I could admire his beauty easier. The way his soft locks fell onto his forehead, the high set of his cheek bones, his chiseled jaw, how his full lips pouted when he turned his head every so often to kiss his Master's jean covered thigh, the sparkling deep green of his eyes. And his cock. 

Oh, his cock was a thing of beauty. Made to be worshipped and tortured in every way and I wanted to be the one to do. I wanted to show him what true pleasure was. 

He was absolutely stunning. 

Jace had told me that his wife, Addison, was pregnant with their first child and that they were planning on taking a break from the lifestyle to focus on parenting. Evan was Jace's 24/7 sub and they were looking into finding him a new Master in their absence. Of course, I was quick to show my interest in taking him on. I had told Jace that I was currently without a sub and that I would be more than happy to setup an arrangement with Evan. 

I tried to keep my excitement hidden, not wanting to appear overly eager but just the mere thought of having in my playroom, bound and waiting for me to do whatever I wished with him...I was practically squirming in my seat. 

Jace looked me over carefully for a long moment before speaking. 

"In my lap, Evan," his Master had commanded with a tug of the leash and Evan immediately obeyed, crawling into Jace's lap, his body turned sideways and keeping his head down. 

Jace's hand came up to run through Evan's hair as he whispered in his ear, Evan's eyes rising to mine for a fraction of a second before a deep blush spread from his cheeks to his chest. I couldn't make out what Jace had been saying to him but I was sure it involved my interest in taking him on as a sub. As I openly drank in his perfect form, I saw his cock twitch and I wanted nothing more than to know what Jace had said at that moment that had caused his body to react that way. 

Jace noticed it as well and I saw a wicked grin grace his features before his other hand reached for Evan's cock, stroking it loosely as Evan's eyes closed and his pouty lips parted, inclining his head further toward Jace's lips as he continued to whisper in Evan's ear. Jace's grip tightened on Evan and his lips moved from his ear to his neck, kissing it for a moment before sinking his teeth into Evan's flesh, a throaty moan leaving Evan's parted lips from the sensation. Evan nodded his head as his hips began to rock to meet Jace's hand, and I read Jace's lips as he whispered, "Good boy." 

My cock was ready to burst and when I saw Jace run his thumb over the slit in Evan's beautiful cock, gathering up some of the leaking precum before bringing it to Evan's mouth, his pink tongue immediately lapping at his own juices like the obedient little slave he was... 

I almost came untouched. 

"Back in your position, pet." Jace said just as he looked back at me and I was sure my arousal was written all over my face, not to mention the bulge in my jeans. 

Before Evan reached the floor, I watched a slow smile spread over Jace's face before he stopped him with a sharp pull at his leash. "On second thought, slave, I'm in the mood for a show." 

Evan visibly shivered. 

On his knees in between Jace's spread legs, Evan kept his head down but I could almost feel the excitement rolling off of him in waves. If I'm being completely honest, I had been pretty excited for the show myself. Leaning forward, Jace threaded his fingers through Evan's hair, pulling his head back so he could see his face. "Hmmm...I'll let you choose tonight. Caleb or Parker?" 

Evan whimpered. "Parker, please. If it pleases you, Master." 

I wanted to hear him call me Master. 

His voice was so smooth, hypnotizing almost and I wanted to hear that voice in a different tone as he screamed through his gag while I fucked him hard from behind. 

"Master Michael is right next to the bar. Tell him that I'd like to speak with him." Jace said as he unclipped Evans leash from his collar.

Evan scampered away quickly, Jace slapping his ass as he passed. "Evan has developed a bit of a crush on one of Michael's subs, Parker." Jace told me with an indulgent smile. "Ever since their first time meeting at Master Kyles house, if Evan has had the chance, he's requested play time with him." 

Evan immediately dropped back into position at Jace's feet as Michael followed closely behind, Parker crawling on his hands and knees next to him as Michael led him with a leash. Caleb was on his other side, also on hands and knees, crawling next to his Master. Even though the lighting was dim in the club, I could make out Parker's seductive form. His head was bowed, his long black hair flowing around his shoulders and his back was arched. Parker and Caleb's collars were much different from Evan's, a simple silver chain with a d-ring hanging in the front to attach their leashes to. The silver against their dark skin looked very enticing, I could see why Evan had a crush. 

"Jace, how have you been?" Michael had asked, reaching out to shake Jace's hand. 

"Pretty good, just chatting with Cooper here," Jace gestured toward me with a nod of his head. 

"How are you, Michael?" I asked as I leaned over, taking my turn at shaking his hand. I had met him a few times here and there at different play parties and such. Michael was hard to miss standing at six foot six, his huge build much like that of a lumber jack. His long black hair, not much different from Parker's, was kept in a tie at the base of his neck. 

"Can't complain. You needed to see me, Jace?" 

Jace smiled and reached down to run his fingers through Evan's hair. I had noticed that Jace did that often and I wondered if it was more than just idly touching his sub, if maybe it was a comforting gesture to Evan. "Actually, I wanted to ask if I could borrow Parker for a bit, if he's not already serving you." Jace smiled. 

"I was actually about to set up a short Shibari lesson with Caleb if you'd like to take Parker for a while." 

Michael was well known for his talent with Shibari rope art. He was the best I had ever seen, aside from myself of course, and people came from all around to attend one of his classes. 

"You be a good boy for Master Jace and I'll let you sleep at the foot of my bed tonight. No repeats of the first time you two sluts played together, got it?" Michael had told Parker as he pulled him to his feet, removing his leash. Parker certainly didn't seem to have a problem with this command, his cock already standing so proudly that I thought he might come from one touch. 

I made a mental note to ask Jace what exactly had happened between the two boys the first they played together. I was sure it would be one hell of an interesting story. 

"Yes, Master," Parker answered with a vigorous nod of his head. 

It appeared that Evan's crush was mutual. 

Parker dropped back to his knees and awaited Jace's command. Leaning back, Jace let his long legs fall open. "Sit here, Evan, facing Parker." Jace pointed to the space in between his legs. 

Once Evan was positioned, Jace sat up straighter and wrapped his arms around Evan's chest, stroking the skin softly as Evan's head lulled back onto Jace's shoulder. I sat up a little straighter as well, my hands resting on my knees as my breathing started to accelerate, excited and curious about what Jace was planning. 

"Come here, Parker." 

Parker crawled forward until he was positioned directly in front of Evan, sitting up and resting his ass on his heels. Parker was sexy as hell and I was more than ready to see him in action. Especially if that action was with Evan. 

"Look at me, Parker," Jace said, still running his hands over Evan's chest. "You want his cock, slave?" Parker nodded eagerly, licking his lips in anticipation as Evan's cock pulsed inches from his mouth. "Ask him if you can have his cock." 

Looking up from beneath his long, dark lashes, Parker whispered, "May I please have your cock, Evan? Please let me suck you off." 

Evan looked ready to weep, ready to beg or do whatever his Master wanted to grant Parker's request. His eyes were glazed and, even in the dim lighting, I could see them darken even further as he looked down at the boy who was so ready to suck his cock. 

"Do you want him?" Jace asked Evan, his voice husky with arousal. 

"Yes, Master, please," Evan whispered, his hips straining toward Parker's waiting mouth. 

"Beg him. Beg him to suck you off." 

"Parker, please, suck my cock. Make me come." Evan begged desperately, staring at Parker like he wanted to ravage him completely. And sounding so fucking hot, desire shot straight to my cock in response. 

Sliding his hand down over Evan's abs, Jace grabbed the base of Evan's cock, rubbing it against Parker's parted lips. "Kiss it, boy." Parker placed a firm kiss on the head of Evan's cock, making Evan's hips jerk slightly. "What a needy little whore you are," Jace chuckled, kissing Evan's temple as he reached forward and pushed down on the back of Parker's head, Evans cock slowly disappearing into Parker's mouth. 

Even though I had seen this act performed countless times, there was something so fucking sexy about it right then. How responsive Evan was to everything his Master said, his barely contained desire for Parker while trying not to displease his Master, his vulnerability, his submission... 

Just him. 

He made it better and I wanted nothing more than to have him perform this act on me. 

"Suck him harder, boy," Jace demanded harshly, smiling when Evan moaned loudly as Parker did what he was told. "That feels good, doesn't it, my little slut?" Jace's tone softened as he spoke directly to Evan, rolling his sub's nipples between his thumb and forefinger. 

Nodding his head quickly, I saw Evan's fingers twitch, fighting the urge to lace his fingers through Parker's long hair. Without realizing it, my hand had drifted to my crotch, palming my hard on as I watched the scene in front of me. 

Watching Evan, everything else disappeared. The noises of leather slapping skin were drowned out by his moans, the couples playing on the stage were ignored as I chose to watch him give into his pleasure. Nothing mattered anymore except for the beautiful boy in front of me and nothing could have moved me from that spot. 

"Yeah...take him deep, Parker. Bury his cock in your throat," Jace encouraged, pushing Parker's head down on Evan's cock. 

Parker moaned at Jace's words, the vibrations making Evan whimper and grunt in frustration as he so clearly tried to hold back his orgasm. 

Fuck, his noises made me so hard. 

Evan was positively writhing under them, thrashing his head back and forth as it rested on Jace's shoulder and his eyes clamped shut tightly. Palming myself harder, my gaze shifted back and forth from Evan's face to his cock as it slipped in and out of Parker's mouth, biting my lip to stifle the growl that was building in my chest. I fucking wanted him right then, anyway I could have him and I was so close to coming already. 

Licking his lips, Evan's brow furrowed and his hands balled into fists as they rested on his thighs. "Master, please..." he begged, and once again, I felt that twinge of envy even as I gripped my cock harder. 

I wanted him to fucking beg me, writhe under my touch, come when I say he fucking can. 

Removing his hand from Parker's head, Jace brought it up to Evan's throat, wrapping his large hand around it as he spoke in Evan's ear. "Put your hands on his head." 

Evan's hands flew to Parker's hair, gripping it tightly in his fists and grunting again when Parker hummed around his length. "Now, fuck his mouth, slave. I want to feel your ass rubbing against my cock as you slide down his throat." Jace ordered. "But do not come." 

Evan complied but whined at his Master's last command, a strangled sound leaving his mouth. My dick was fucking throbbing by this point, so I gave up and unbuttoned my jeans, pulling myself out and sighing in relief as I wrapped my hand tight around my swollen cock. 

I matched my strokes to the movement of Evan's hips as he fucked Parker's mouth relentlessly, the most delicious noises pouring out of him as he got closer and closer to his peak. Panting, I returned the smirk that Jace gave me when he saw me stroking my cock, knowing damn well that he knew how much I wanted his sub. 

Only a few moments later, just as my cock began to pulse and my balls tightened, Evan thrust forward into Parker's mouth hard before crying out. "Master...Master. Oh God, please, Sir... I need to come. Please let me come." 

"Mmm, my beautiful Evan, do you want to come?" Jace taunted while biting down on Evan's earlobe. 

"YES! Master, please," Evan was practically whining, so close to coming but desperately not wanting to disobey his Master. Without another word, Jace grabbed Parker's hair and pulled his head back, effectively ripping his mouth from Evan's cock. 

"Pump your cock, Evan. I want to see you come on his chest." 

One, two quick strokes over his cock and Evan was roaring his release, leaning forward a bit to shoot across Parker's chest, painting the dark skin with his pearly come. I couldn't handle it, the visual and the sounds too much and I palmed the head of my cock with my other hand, growling lowly as I filled my hand with my cum. My hips jerked hard with each wave that left me and I fought desperately to keep my eyes open, not wanting to miss a single second of the amazing show taking place right in front of me. 

I came so fucking hard. 

Sagging back against Jace's chest, he turned his head and kissed Jace's cheek reverently. "Thank you, Master," he whispered breathlessly just as my body finished releasing the tension, relaxing heavily against the couch while my hands still held my softening dick. 

"Clean up your mess," Jace commanded, gesturing toward the liquid that was dripping down Parker's chest and stomach. 

I watched, completely enthralled, as Evan immediately slid to the floor in front of Parker, dipping his head to Parker's abs and pointing out his tongue to lick off the come there. Dragging his tongue up to Parker's chest, he thoroughly cleaned every inch of Parker's skin his desire had touched before bringing his mouth to Parker's, the two sharing Evan's orgasm in a slow, sensual, open mouthed kiss. I had never seen anything more erotic in my entire life and I felt my spent cock twitch at the image. 

That night, I took matters into my own hands three more times, each time imagining the noises Evan made. However, in my fantasies, he made those noises from my touch, my collar around his neck, on his knees in my playroom. 

The next day, I called Jace and set a meeting with him to start the process of taking over as Evan's Master. Although he was a 24/7 sub for Jace, I didn't want to start him off that way with me, just in case our arrangement didn't work. So, Jace and I decided that I would have one session with Evan, a trial of sorts, to see if it worked out. He would stay with me for a weekend and if we were compatible, then we would work up a contract. 

"I won't delve into his past with you," Jace had said seriously, looking up from Evan's medical records. "It's his story to tell, if he so wishes but I will tell you that he needs a lot care. His Master needs to have a firm hand that can quickly become nurturing when it's needed. He's a lot of work, Cooper, but I can promise you, he's completely worth it." 

I had realized then how much Evan had meant to Jace. It was more than an arrangement and it was obvious that Jace was deeply concerned for Evan's well being. 

After talking with Jace about his limits and safewords, I had asked him about extended sessions. He told me that Evan had had extensive training and was used to all day play, only allowing breaks for nourishment and to relieve himself. I had assumed that would be the case, given Evans 24/7 status. Also, Jace had mentioned that after long sessions, Evan would need a decent amount of emotional recovery time and comforting, the intensity too much for him to handle sometimes. 

Immediately, my brain had been flooded with images of holding him in my lap, nude and shaking from his orgasm, soothing his hair back as I waited for his tears to subside. Already having planned what I wanted Evan's first session with me to include, this had pleased me greatly. 

I couldn't wait to have him under my command. 

Bringing my thoughts back to the present, I stared at him as he kneeled in front of me, in perfect form though he was slightly shaking. I had anticipated this. A new Master, a new playroom, a new routine...he was afraid. That was okay, I could fix that. He just needed his mind taken off of his fear. 

I would happily give him a distraction.



The Edge of Consent



A belated thanks to Woody for the prompt!

---

I shivered as I clutched my coat closer to me. My nipples were hard against the inner lining of the coat, though I couldn't have said for sure if they were hard from the cold, or arousal. I flexed my toes nervously against the rough gravel of the sidewalk.

His text had come two hours ago. There was a party tonight. Would I like to go? It was a rhetorical question that he answered for me. Of course I would. His instructions were terse and left no room for interpretation. Wear your best earrings. Your nicest necklace. Nothing else. See you at nine.

It was a cold night in the suburbs tonight, and nine 'o clock was really early even for the suburbs, so I had disobeyed his directive and put on a coat. I prayed he would not mind. He had never made me go out in public naked before. I shivered again. Two hours ago I had been putting the finishing touches on my Socio 201 essay and looking forward to spending the long weekend with my parents. I stood now on the sidewalk in front of my house, wearing a pair of silver earrings and a pearl necklace that belonged to my grandmother, the coat the only thing separating my naked form from the biting cold and the gaze of my neighbours. Had he been right, when he said I wasn't ready for this next step? I shook my head and shoved the thought aside. It was too late to change my mind now.

Luckily he was very punctual. He stopped his car right where I was, and swept his gaze over me. I could tell by the downturn of the corner of his mouth that he was displeased, but he just said "Get in."

I was relieved that he did not decide to push the point. But when I started moving towards the passenger side of the car, he said, with perfect calmness, "You, not the coat."

I hesitated, my eyes pleading wordlessly, but there was no compromise in his hard eyes. I desperately wanted to keep the coat on, but found that I could not disobey. Reluctantly I opened the buttons in front, and the coat fell to the sidewalk. The sudden sensation of frigid air on my bare skin made me gasp.

"Throw it into the bushes." Looking furtively around, I picked it up and threw it into the shrubbery of my parents' front yard.

He opened the glove compartment and took a band of dark cloth out of it. "Put this on." My breath caught in my throat when I realized it was a blindfold. It fit snugly when I put in on, and the world turned pitch black. It made me much more aware of my surroundings – the individual pearls of the necklace resting against my neck, the leather against the skin of my bare back and ass. The sound of his car engine. The faint smell of his aftershave, soap and manly musk under it.

Nevertheless, not being able to see where we were going made me apprehensive. I had assumed when I got the text that the party was at his house. But why blindfold me if we were just going there? I knew the way to his house. He offered no explanation, nor any words at all, as he drove.

After five minutes of stony silence I couldn't bear the tension any longer. "I have to be home by midnight," I said timidly. My parents would be back from out of town by then. They hadn't enforced a curfew on me since I left for college, but I didn't want them to worry. My phone had been in the coat I just discarded.

When he did not respond I spoke up again hesitantly. "Where are we going, M-Master?" The word felt new, unfamiliar. In lieu of an answer I felt a searing pain on my nipple as he twisted it savagely. Then there was an unzipping sound and a hand on the back of my head, grabbing my braid and pulling me bodily towards him.

Instinctively I tilted my head upward for a kiss, but his hand pushed me instead down onto his crotch. His half-erect cock pushed past my lips, quickly hardening in my mouth as he moved my head up and down with his fingers buried in my hair.

Giving me no time to ease into it, he started pumping more intensely, impaling my face more forcefully on his cock each time until I gagged. I could feel the metal teeth of his zipper graze my nose and chin every time the head of his cock pushed into my throat.

I gagged on his cock again, trying my best to suppress my gag reflex. I attempted to rise off his crotch, but his unrelenting grip kept me down, pushing his cock deeper down my throat until I could feel his pubes against my lips. As the seconds drew on and he made no indication of wanting to withdraw I started squirming, but in my uncomfortable position, my right arm was pinned to my body by the car seat. As my left hand came up to my head to try and pry his hand away, he barked, "Down, girl!"

My hand flinched away at his command, and through the panic I felt deeply ashamed that I had obeyed so readily to a command like a pet. I felt tears dampening my blindfold, though in the moment I could not have said whether they were due to mortification or the gag reflex.

As I started drifting into unconsciousness I could hear him pull over and stop the car. He released his iron grip on the back of my head and I sprang up from his cock, panting and choking. I was still catching my breath in shuddery gasps when he pulled the blindfold off me. Looking around, I saw that he had stopped at the edge of a local park.

He got out and sat on the car bonnet with his cock still out, motioning with a finger for me to follow him. I obeyed meekly, trying to ignore the cold night air on my body. Strangely, the pearl necklace on my neck made me feel even more naked than if I'd been completely nude. We'd never done it in public before. Was he going to pin me against the bonnet and fuck me right here in the open? I didn't know whether the flutter in my heart was relief or disappointment when he pushed me down on my knees instead.

I had only begun sucking his cock when I saw movement in my peripheral vision. From this distance, obscured by tree shadows it was hard to tell for sure, but it looked like a late-night jogger approaching us from the brick trail. I made to get up hastily, but he held a firm hand on my shoulder. Looking up, I saw him hold up the other hand in a friendly greeting.

I swallowed nervously, my toes curling powerlessly in the dewy grass. Was he inviting the jogger over? It wasn't a big neighborhood. It occurred to me that the jogger might recognize me. I tugged urgently at his arm. He ignored me, but luckily after a few tense moments the jogger turned away.

He frowned down at me, annoyed, when I remembered that I had stopped sucking. Before I could resume on my own, he had grabbed my ears and pushed me back down on his cock, fucking my face vigorously.

Despite his roughness, the novelty of the experience was making me aroused, and when he slackened his grip on my head I began bobbing up and down his cock on my own volition. He moaned when I cupped his hairy balls in my hand, caressing it the way he liked it. Almost subconsciously my free hand snaked down to my damp pussy, rubbing urgently at my inflamed clit. It hardly needed any stimulation, and I felt the sweet tension rapidly mounting towards an explosive release with every flick of-

"Take your hand away from that clit." His command cut through the fog of lust like the crack of a whip. "Disobedient fuck puppets don't get to cum."

Damn it. How did he always know? I whimpered in frustration, but reluctantly obeyed. I heard him chuckle softly and I looked up at him pleadingly, cock still in my mouth.

"My sweet, innocent slut," he said, pushing a stray strand of hair out of my eyes, tucking it behind my ear. "There's no rush." He traced the contour of my ear with a gentleness that somehow belied a sinister promise, toying absently with the earring when he reached my earlobe.

He began lifting his hips from the grill of the car bonnet, the pace of his pumping increasing as his hands held my head in place. Before long he had tensed, and his soapy sweet cum filled my mouth. I savored the taste for a moment before swallowing.

He chuckled and released my head. I stood up from the grass and hastened to follow him back into the car. I reached for the blindfold on the dashboard as he started up the engine again.

"Actually, you can keep it off." When I looked at him questioningly he did not reply but his sneer said you'll see. I felt a renewed trill of apprehension. He seemed in a sadistic mood tonight. I grew increasingly uneasy as we headed downtown. My sleepy hometown was not exactly famed for its nightlife, but the streetlights there meant that anyone we came across would see me clearly, naked in a man's car.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw where he was pulling over. It was the neighbourhood pharmacy. My parents used to get prescriptions from here all the time for my bronchitis when I was a little girl. The kindly Mr. Thomas would always ruffle my hair, give me a herbal candy and call me 'little munchkin'.

"I know this place," I squeaked. "It's a pharmacy."

He laughed as he turned into the back alley. "It's not a pharmacy at night, I'll tell you that."

There were a few more cars parked in the alley, a couple of which I thought I recognized. "I- someone might recognize me."

"I guess we'll see. Well, you won't."

He turned off the engine. My eyes tracked him as he got around to my side of the car, opening the door. The cold blast of outside air made me flinch. "Time to put your blindfold back on, slut," he said impatiently when I didn't budge from the car seat.

I grabbed at his forearm. "Listen, I- I don't want to do this." When he gave no sign that he'd heard me I scrambled to find a compromise. "Let's go back to your place. You can f-fuck my ass again, if- if you want," I blurted out. I swallowed, immediately regretting the concession. He had taken my anal virginity the last time, and he had not been gentle. It was the most painful experience of my life, and my ass had been sore for the next few days.

He looked down at me with a bemused half-smile, his brown eyes completely devoid of mercy. "You're right. I will fuck your ass, if I want. Get out of the car."

"Woody, please," I whispered. I realized right after I said it that calling his name had been a mistake. His arm tensed in my hand. He didn't like that.

"Put the fucking blindfold on and step out, cunt. I'm not going to ask again."

I cringed at the anger in his voice and hastily obeyed. The blindfold slipped over my eyes and the world became pitch dark again. I shivered as I stepped out of the car and allowed myself to be guided across grimy gravel with a hand on my wrist.

I heard him rap twice on a metal surface, then the creak of rusty hinges.

"Hey, you made it. This her? Well, come in, come in," a male voice said genially, as if inviting a neighbour in for tea and gossip. "We've been waiting."

It was noticeably warmer inside, and my heart quickened when I heard the music and low murmur of a party in the background. I shivered again despite the warmth.

"You sure she's willing?" I heard the host ask lowly. I felt a rough hand grope at my leaking crotch, then the host's raspy chuckle. "Alright then. Like we discussed." There was something worryingly familiar about the host's voice, but I could not quite place it.

"Service with a smile, Julia," I heard Woody whisper in my ear. I gasped, thrown by his use of my name. I stumbled as the host led me by the hand into another room, where the voices of the crowd had been. I heard the crowd's appreciative intake of breath as I stepped into the room. It was hard to tell how many people there were. Definitely more than five. Beneath the aroma of food I could smell the heavy scent of male arousal, and I felt my heartbeat instantly quicken. Did I know anyone in the room? I strained my ears but could not make out the identities of the muttered voices. I could only pray that the blindfold conferred on me some degree of anonymity.

"Okay, perverts," I heard Woody's voice say to general laughter, "here's the entertainment. Do what you want with her, but try not to bruise her face, alright? And no cutting. It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt."

"Then it's just fun!"

I felt a burst of terror when he laughed. "Enjoy." I could not see him, but I could hear the shrug in his voice. Would he really let them hurt me for real? All of a sudden I realized that I didn't know, and I wished that I'd known him better before.

Then hands were all over my body, everywhere at once – gliding over my skin, pinching my nipples, stroking my wet slit. I jumped when a finger probed between my butt cheeks to caress the puckered bud of my anus, eliciting more laughter from the crowd.

Someone pushed me down on my knees, and I felt a cock at my lips. I took it into my mouth eagerly, sucking on it without further prompting. It tasted different than Woody's cock somehow, and was thinner than his, even though it was rock hard. I was, I realized, sucking someone else's cock for the first time. The thought excited me, and on my own volition I drew it in deeper, until I felt the bulb of the cock at my throat.

"Look at how eager she is!" someone said. "What a nasty slut."

That proclamation seemed to break the ice. Someone guided my hand away from the cock I was sucking, and I felt my hand encircling a semi-hard uncircumcised cock. The stranger's hand moved mine up and down the shaft a couple of times, and I got the message.

Another person grabbed my hips and pulled them up, so that I was bent at the waist. I had to grab on to the hand of the guy whose cock was in my mouth for support. I could feel his thumb caressing the back of my hand, an oddly tender gesture that I latched on to as the person behind me lined the helmet of his cock against my dripping wet pussy and thrust unceremoniously into me. Lubricated by the juices of my arousal, it slid in easily until I felt his crotch bump against my butt. In the back of my mind, I wondered vaguely if he was wearing a condom.

The ensuing fucking was brutal and completely devoid of skill, but despite that I found my body responding to it, my arousal surging every time he pistoned into me. I felt self-loathing wash over me with every surge of pleasure, which only made me hotter.

As if enervated by his partner, the man fucking my mouth began to pump into me more vigorously. I resisted the urge to gag when the head of his cock pushed into my throat. I tried to pull away for air, but a hand that was resting benignly on my head now kept me firmly where I was.

I began to panic as I ran out of breath, but I was trapped and in no position to resist, with a cock in one hand and the other hand grasped tightly in a vise-like grip. The thumb that had been gently rubbing against the back of my hand was now pressed uncomfortably tight, and the nail dug into my hand so hard that I wasn't sure it hadn't broken skin.

Unconsciously my pussy had clenched in fear, making the hard rod pumping into me feel even better. Combined with the heightened senses that came with the adrenaline surge I could feel my climax rapidly approaching-

-but the man fucking me finished first, pulling out and splattering his cum all over my back. I collapsed onto my knees as he let go of my hips. I felt congealed cum flow down my back in streaks. "She's close," I heard him say behind me as he stepped away.

I barely had time to groan in frustration when the cock in my mouth began to twitch, and it withdrew suddenly from my throat. I gulped down a mouthful of air gratefully, just as warm spunk filled my mouth. Unlike Woody's, it was bitter, and I gagged at the foul taste.

"Swallow it all, cunt, or you'll be slurping it off the carpet," he said as he wiped his slimy cock on my face.

I swallowed the stranger's cum without a second thought, feeling the bitter fluid slide down my gullet. I turned now to the uncircumcised cock in my hand, which was now completely erect, and wrapped my lips around the helmet.

"Yes, just like that," he muttered with a growl of pleasure. I moved my free hand down to my clit, but stopped when I felt an angry tug on my braid. "Hands on my cock, you slut. You don't cum before I do."

With the implied incentive I re-doubled my efforts, running my tongue over the tip of his cock as my hands pumped at the base of the shaft. He came rather quickly after that, and I swallowed his cum without further prompting, even licking up a droplet that had slid out the corner of my mouth.

In this lull I felt suddenly very empty. I fell forward till my forehead rested on the carpet, my arousal warring with my shame at being the fucktoy at a party of what must have been at least a dozen people. With the blood rushing to my head, my arousal quickly won out, and my hands flew to my crotch, my fingers dipping into my pussy as I stroked the little nub. I heard a few derisive chuckles around me, but I was too far gone to care. I was so close-

Out of nowhere, my hands were wrenched aside, strong hands pulling my arms back with firm grips above my elbows. I cried in desperate protest – I was so close! My arms were clamped to the small of my back with one hand, the free hand lifting my hips up, exposing my wet crotch. I was almost grateful when I felt something rub against my pussy lips.

"Please," I sobbed into the sticky carpet, not entirely sure what I was asking for. "Please."

I stiffened when the pressure moved up a couple of inches to rest against my anus. Bent over with my hands pinned to my back, I would be powerless to resist if he decided to fuck my ass.

"Please," I whimpered, don't fuck me in the ass. That was what I wanted to say. What came out instead was, "let me cum."

The man leaned over me until I could feel his breath in my ear. Under the heavy scent of sex I caught the faintest whiff of disinfectant and bitter herbs. I shuddered as I suddenly realized-

"Since you asked so nicely, munchkin," he said, whispering the last word into my ear.

Before I had any time to process the revelation that my childhood pharmacist was going to fuck me, Mr. Thomas shoved his cock into me. I screamed out in pleasure as he filled me to the hilt in a single stroke. As sopping wet as I was, he was thicker than anyone I'd ever had, and his plowing created a friction in my vaginal canal so painfully exquisite that it brought tears to my eyes.

It didn't take long before the combination of pent-up sexual tension and intense shame took me over the edge. I shook and bucked into his crotch, impaling myself on his thick shaft as waves of indescribable pleasure washed over me. Even the sensation of his dry thumb roughly forcing its way past my anal sphincter did not diminish the force of my orgasm.

As my climax subsided I became more aware of the burning presence of his invading digit. It worked in and out of my anus in tandem with the harsh plowing of his cock, so that I was unable to feel the exquisite pleasure filling my pussy without the searing pain of the thumb tearing my insides apart. I sobbed in abject mortification and self-loathing as I realized that the violation was somehow pushing me towards my second orgasm in as many minutes.

This did not escape Mr. Thomas' notice. "Like that, do you?" he growled.

I shook my head, my cheek rubbing against the vile carpet.

"Please no," I cried, "Please, it hurts. Take it out!"

I moaned, a wantonly lusty sound, in wordless protest when he released my arms and began withdrawing both thumb and cock. With my arms freed I propped myself up on my elbows and pushed back against him. He was however quicker and pulled out completely, his cock making a wet squelch as it popped out of my sopping wet vagina. With my blindfold on I couldn't tell where exactly he was, and could only thrust my ass out blindly.

I coiled back in humiliation as scattered laughter erupted around me. I felt my face turn beet red as blood flushed back to my head. I hesitated for a moment, feeling the last of my dignity and resolve crumble away. Then I whispered my surrender.




The Edge of Consent



"The more experience and insight I obtain into human nature, the more convinced do I become that the greater portion of a man is purely animal."
- Henry Morton Stanley

"Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac."
- Henry Kissinger

* * *

Marina sighed as she entered her apartment and tossed her bag on the couch. She looked at her watch, dangling loose on her slender wrist. Another "two-hour" photoshoot that had somehow stretched into five hours. The pay, naturally, had not stretched along with it. The sun had set and it was almost completely dark already. She kicked off her shoes, splashed some cold water on her face, put a frozen dinner into the microwave, and sank down onto the couch next to her bag. She put her head in her hands and asked herself the same question she had asked a hundred times before. What was she doing here?

Marina was nineteen years old and had grown up in a small town in northern California. All throughout middle school and high school, she had heard the praise about how she was smart, how she was athletic, how she was attractive, how she was guaranteed to be successful in life. Her parents had pushed her in their controlling, live-vicariously-through-your-kid way, informing her that Dad had graduated from Berkeley, Mom had graduated from Berkeley, and dammit, she was going to graduate from Berkeley too.

But Marina was also stubborn. The harder her parents pushed, the harder she pushed back. She had done some modeling in high school after classes and on the weekends. Made pretty good money doing it, too. She had taken the bus to San Francisco until she had earned enough to buy a used car. Eventually, she had made enough to trade in her used car for a brand-new one. Nothing fancy, just a Toyota Corolla, but there she was, with a brand-new car that she had purchased with help from no one else, before she had graduated from high school. How many of her classmates could say that?

So when she had realized that her parents had the next four years, and perhaps more, of her life all planned out for her, it was time to take action. She had defiantly stuck her (small) chest out and informed them that she wasn't going to Berkeley, she wasn't going to any college, but instead was going to L.A. to have a career as a model. She was different from all those other girls who ended up either running home to daddy or having to resort to making a living on her back or on her knees and calling a different man daddy. Right? After all, she already had a proven track record of success. So, ignoring her mother's wailing and her father's gnashing of teeth, as soon as she had finished high school, she had loaded up her Corolla with her belongings and headed south to L.A.

Now, she was one year older, one year wiser, and about thirty years more cynical. Her tiny studio apartment cost $925 per month. (Electricity not included). She had left all her friends behind, but she'd made new friends here. Sort of. If you could call shallow drug addicts and lazy moochers friends. And of course there was no shortage of guys hitting on her, so there was plenty of empty, meaningless sex available if that was her thing. Which it wasn't, but she did it anyway. She had sexual needs, and no other kind appeared to be available.

The microwave beeped. She took out her cardboard-flavored chicken breast with mashed potatoes and peas and sat back on the couch to eat, digging the day's mail out of her bag at the same time. The electric bill. Had it been a month already? She sighed even before she opened it, knowing that her liberal use of the air conditioner during last month's several heat waves would mean some unattractive numbers.

"Nothing I can't handle," said Marina out loud. She looked at the bill, then reached over for the binder where she kept the records of all her income and expenses and crunched some numbers in her head. She would have a positive cash flow - just barely - this month. At least things were better than when she had first arrived. She had been losing money month after month, dipping deeper and deeper into her savings, until she had discovered that topless modeling paid a lot more than modeling with the twins covered up. Her small, firm, perfectly round 32B's with sharp, pointy pink nipples were always a hit.

She stood up, took off her pants, and looked at her reflection in the mirror, wearing only white panties and a white T-shirt. With her elegant and high-cheekboned face, full and pouty lips, pale skin, shoulder-length dark brown hair, and deep blue eyes, her face was at least in demand in the world of modeling. Her body, too. She had always been naturally slim, and she could maintain her model-thin, 5'6", 103-pound figure, with her 23-inch waist and 33-inch hips, through careful eating and frequent exercise. Her slender thighs had a little bit of visible muscle tone, and her stomach was firm and flat. The outline of her perky little braless tits and erect nipples was visible underneath her top. She didn't even have to pop any pills or puke up her meals like some of the other girls did. She finished her peas, making sure to eat exactly three-fourths of the chicken breast and only half of the mashed potatoes, and tossed the remnants in the trash.

She reached for the remote and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels. "What am I doing here?" she said again, this time out loud. This wasn't the life she had imagined. As much as she hated to admit it, she probably would be happier right now if she was in a dorm room at Berkeley, partying with real friends. Her life here was work and emptiness. Even when she went to parties, she didn't have fun. But she wasn't going back. She could just see her parents, triumphant and self-righteous smirks on their faces, saying, over and over again, "We told you so."

She found the channel with the Dodger game and half-watched, half continued thinking about her situation. She would get her big break that would propel her out of this rut sometime. She had to. Sure, she was too short to be a runway model, but there were lots of other kinds...

Sometime during the sixth inning, she fell asleep on the couch.

Marina was awakened by a scraping sound. Sitting up, she heard voices. The game was over and the sports talking heads were yammering on and on. She clicked the TV off, tilted her head, and listened again.

The scraping came once more. It seemed to be coming from above. She looked upward, towards the skylight, and was horrified to see a large, black-clad figure dropping down from the opening. The intruder, showing impressive agility for his size, executed a double salto in midair to soften his fall and landed perfectly on his booted feet.

Her heart pounding, adrenaline flowing through her, panic flowing through her brain, Marina managed to focus on a single thought: Her gun! The .45 pistol, a gift from her uncle, was in the drawer next to her bed. Racing across the room, she dove onto the bed and reached into the drawer.

The uninvited guest was already moving. He threw his powerful body into a cartwheel followed by a series of fast back handsprings directly at her. By the time she had taken out the weapon, chambered a round, and removed the safety, he was on her. A large hand grabbed her right arm and twisted it painfully. The gun fell to the floor.

Marina tried attacking with her knee, intending to drive it into his groin. He was far too quick for her, however, and swiftly turned away. Her knee bounced harmlessly into the side of his thigh.

"Feisty, huh?" he whispered in a rough voice. "I like that. I like the knee strike myself." With that, he rammed his knee into her midsection. She doubled over in pain, gasping. He kicked her in the head with his big black boot and she crumpled to the floor.

Semi-conscious, Marina was vaguely aware of the intruder picking up the gun, removing the magazine, ejecting the round in the chamber, and throwing them away. He stood over her as the rest of her senses slowly returned. She began opening her mouth.

"No," he whispered in the same rough voice. "No screaming. Nothing that will wake the neighbors." He raised his leg. "It'd be a damn shame if a delicate little throat like yours got stomped on. Now do we have an understanding?"

Marina nodded, trembling with anger and fear.

"Get up, strip, and lie on the bed," he ordered.

She stood up slowly, still in pain. She removed her white T-shirt, exposing the 32B's that stood proudly on her chest. Her nipples were erect. She hesitated as she reached for her panties. "Please, can't we..." she began.

He was on her again in a flash, slamming her against the wall. A muscular forearm pressed against her throat, cutting off her air. "I thought we had an understanding. Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. You have a choice. Do exactly as I say, without question and without hesitation, and live through this. Or don't. Now will there be any more misunderstandings?" He continued choking her until she felt like she was going to pass out, then suddenly released the pressure slightly, allowing her to breathe and talk, though she still couldn't move.

"No more misunderstandings," she said in a small voice.

"Good." He stepped back, finally freeing her, and pointed at her underwear. She slowly pulled down her panties, exposing her pink pussy lips crowned by a small landing strip of dark brown pubic hair. She looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

"Look at me," he whispered.

She forced herself to obey, looking into his eyes. Strangely, his face betrayed no emotion at all. He simply pointed to the bed. She found herself moving towards it, not even remembering making a conscious decision to do so. She lay on the bed on her back. For the first time, he smiled.

The intruder stood in the glow from the lamp next to the couch, giving Marina her first good look at him. He was tall, a couple of inches over six feet. His semi-longish black hair and strong jawline gave him a naturally dominant look. Then he began taking off his clothes. He started with his black jacket, revealing that he had on nothing underneath. His chest was heavily muscled and his arms looked massive and powerful. His abs had a well-defined six-pack, and his deeply tanned skin contrasted sharply with Marina's pale, petite figure. He then took off his boots and pants. Apparently, he had gone commando, as his large erection quickly sprang free. Now nude except for his black leather gloves, he advanced towards the bed.

Marina's mind was flooded with confused and conflicting emotions. She was still fearful, and she was still angry. Yet there was a part of her that seemed to be saying that everything would be all right if she gave this man what he wanted. In addition, a dampness was beginning to grow in her pussy. How could she actually feel attraction towards this man, this rapist? She was ashamed of it, but the attraction wasn't going away. There was just something about him, his natural dominance, the way he had so easily defeated all her attempted attacks seemingly without effort. She had met many macho, obnoxious guys who loved trying to prove how tough they were. She had always simply rolled her eyes at them. But this man was different. His power and control just seemed so...real.

He joined her on the bed. His massive cock looked even bigger close up. It had to be at least eight inches, probably eight and a half. Longer than anyone she'd had before. His dark brown eyes looked into her frightened blue ones. She sat up slowly.

"You want this, don't you," he whispered.

The defiance that was still in her found its way to the surface. "No!"

He laughed. "We'll see."

Marina hung her head in shame, realizing he could somehow sense her thoughts. She had always considered herself a strong, independent woman. She had always been proud of being financially self-sufficient at a young age and making it on her own in a new city. She had always despised women who tolerated abuse. How could she be turning into what she had always hated?

He reached for her chin, tilting her head back upwards. "Shhh." He placed his other hand on her chest, his large hand covering both of her petite breasts, and pressed her body back down.

Then, without further ado, he mounted her, penetrating her with his huge, steel-hard cock. Her wetness and her previous sexual experience reduced the pain somewhat, though it still hurt. He fucked her dominantly and hard, letting her feel his muscular bulk on top of her. He was easily more than twice her weight.

Marina began to wriggle and struggle. Though fit, she was far too small to have any chance against his strength. He suddenly hit her, backhanding her across the face. She stopped squirming.

As he began fucking her harder and faster, something changed in Marina's mind. She no longer felt the need to stop him. Rather, she wanted to show him that she could take this. She wanted to show that despite her slender frame and delicate looks, she could handle the rough sex. She knew that many of her fellow models, similar in size to her, wouldn't be able to handle a fuck this rough from a man this big. But she was different. She wasn't like those weak girls...

She began moving in rhythm with him. Looking up, she could see him smirking. He increased his pace, really pounding her, and backhanded her face a few more times. It was a struggle to keep up, but she didn't falter, and the blows to her face only increased her determination. Finally, he came hard, shooting a massive load of semen deep into her. Simultaneously, she had an equally powerful orgasm, shrieking as the pain turned to pleasure, her whole body shuddering. He slid out of her, cum dripping everywhere, and lay down next to her.

"Well, I guess I don't need to ask if it was good for you too," he laughed. Marina turned away. Her mind was still dazed and confused. She remembered all the public service announcements and Tumblr postings. "If you have an orgasm during a sexual assault, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You have no control over..." She repeated the words over and over in her head.

"You did very well. Most girls your size can't take a pounding like that." At that, she felt pride rise up inside her, then more hesitation. Why did she have anything to be proud about? She'd surrendered to him. But, on the other hand, was surrender really such a bad thing...

"This doesn't change who you are, Marina," he said.

At that, she whirled around. "You know my name?"

"I know a lot about you. Do you think I did this on a whim? Do you think I chose you at random? I've been following your modeling career for a while. You work on your own, without the help of an agency. You find your own gigs and negotiate your own rates. You're smart, strong, and determined, and in this city of sharks, girls with thicker portfolios and thicker wallets have crashed and burned. But you've not only stayed afloat, you've managed to avoid getting bitten."

"Until YOU bit me," said Marina.

He chuckled. "True."

"Then WHY?" she demanded.

"You have to be strong, every moment of every day. Everyone from producers to photographers to other models wants to take advantage of you. You have to constantly be on your guard, constantly be the responsible one, constantly make good decisions, because a single bad one could destroy your career. It's tiring, and you want a break from all that. You want someone else to take control, to take the lead, to give you a break from all that responsibility and decision-making."

Marina turned away again.

"Come on, admit it. It's true, isn't it."

She turned back slowly. "Yes," she said in a quiet voice.

He simply lay there, expression unchanging.

"What, no 'I told you so'?" she asked.

"No. I figure you hate that sort of thing."

"Oh, now you're all respectful? Did you ever think that I also hate being fucked without consent?"

"Ah, but do you really hate it? That's the real question."

Marina couldn't honestly say she had a definite answer to that. Finally she said, "So what now?"

He sat up, smirking, and pointed to his re-growing erection. "I'll let you off easy. Just a hand job this time."

"Gee, thanks," said Marina sarcastically.

He looked at her with his piercing stare. She gulped, hoping the conversation hadn't distracted her mind too much and made her overstep the bounds of good sense in a still-dangerous situation.

"You've got spunk, kid. I admire that, I really do. But never forget that there's a fine line between having spunk and being a brat. And never forget how dangerous I can be. That's what you like about me, after all."

She nodded.

"Good. Now get to business."

She grabbed his raging erection. It was huge, as big as her slender forearm. She clenched her fist around it and began moving it in a rhythmic up and down motion.

He grinned. "You have a lot of experience with this, don't you."

She shrugged. "Yes."

"I can tell. For such a skinny chick, you've got quite a grip." He held his forearm next to hers, his massive, heavily muscled one with its dark brown tan in sharp contrast to her thin, pale one. She couldn't help feeling attraction again. She had always liked guys with big, powerful arms. A distant memory of a high school boyfriend floated through her mind. She had felt so safe when he was holding her...

"Find something you like, Marina?"

The slender model said nothing.

"I could make you answer, but I won't. We both know what the answer is, anyway. I like yours too." He reached for her free arm and touched her slim wrist. She was still wearing her watch. "That's a man's watch. Little big for you, isn't it?"

Marina shrugged again. "I like the look." She was still jerking his rock-hard cock. Somehow, he was able to hold a normal conversation with her while she was doing it. Most guys lost their dignity completely when she gave them hand jobs and turned into blubbering, squealing fools. She should hate this dark and mysterious man for what he was doing to her, but instead she felt intrigued.

"Ooh, baby. Gonna cum." He suddenly grabbed her wrist and aimed his penis in a different direction. A second later, several waves of cum shot out from his huge rod, spraying the white jizz all over her small breasts. Laughing, he got up, heading towards his clothes.

"You're a sick miserable bastard," said Marina, half angry and half joking.

"Guilty as charged." He began getting dressed. She sat there, her little titties drenched with his cum.

Fully clothed, he headed for the door. "I could call the cops as soon as you leave," she said.

"You could." He shrugged. "Somehow, I don't think you will. A girl like you has certain needs that other men can't fulfill. I'll be back. Sometime."

"I could shoot you the next time you break in here."

"You could. Somehow, I don't think you'll be doing that either."

An hour ago, Marina would have been certain that she would have shot him. Now, she found herself thinking that he might be speaking the truth. What was happening to her?

"Goodbye, Marina," he said simply, closing the door behind him.

She got up, went to the small space that called itself a kitchen, and wiped herself off with some paper towels. Then she got dressed.

Was she a different woman now? Or was she not? Did she hate the man who had done this? Or did she need him? She didn't know the answers to any of those questions. What she did know was that she needed some wine. She took out a bottle that she had bought with a fake ID and poured herself a glass.

THE END



The Edge of Consent



"What did you say, whore?"

"Fuck me," I repeated shakily, arching my back to lift up my ass.

Much to my shame, an involuntary squeal of pleasure escaped my lips when I felt his thick shaft sliding up the valley of my butt. I gasped when the bulb of his cock slid down not to my waiting slit but my clenched asshole. When I tried to wriggle away his strong hands on my hips trapped me in place. In desperation my hand shot back towards his crotch, guiding his cock down instead to the entrance of my wet pussy.

"Please... fuck my c-cunt." I hung my head in defeat.

Luckily, he did not insist on plundering my tight anal passage, plunging his engorged member into my pussy- my... my cunt. My surrender seemed to inflame his passion further, and gripping my shoulders for traction, he started laying into my pussy with an almost animalistic frenzy, his body slapping obscenely into the back of my thighs with every thrust.

On my elbows, the savage fucking made the pearl necklace around my neck sway to the rhythm of the thrusts. Though I was blindfolded, the feeling of the smooth pearls sliding against my skin was a shameful reminder, anchoring me to my real self and preventing me from disappearing into ecstatic fantasy where I was just a nameless, anonymous slut. I was Julia, my Ama's necklace reminded me every time it bumped into my collarbone, and these people, more likely than not, knew who I was. It was, in truth, more humiliating than any collar could have. At that moment I detested Woody, for always knowing which buttons to push, but more than that, myself for being a slut. His slut.

On an impulse, my hand shot up to clutch at the necklace to stop the swaying, which elicited a bark of laughter from Mr. Thomas.

"I have to give it to you, Woody boy. The necklace was a nice touch." He reached forward and wrenched my hand back. "But whores like you, little munchkin, wear a different kind of pearl necklace."

He pulled out of me and easily flipped me onto my back. I started when I heard him straddle my chest and felt his veiny cock, still slimy with my pussy juices settle itself in the valley between my breasts.

"Push your tits together, bitch."

When I reluctantly obeyed, he began titfucking me, his cock bumping occasionally into my chin. I had never been titfucked before. I'd always assumed that it was for women with larger boobs than mine. It was as dehumanizing as anything that's been inflicted on me tonight. I was a piece of fuckmeat, furniture that he just happened to be frotting against. Worse, his position astride my chest meant his legs pinned my arms to the carpet, putting the tips of my fingers frustratingly out of reach of my clit.

His cock sliding vigorously between my breasts, he didn't take long to finally cum, spurting warm jizz all over my chest and neck. I felt some pool in the hollow of my throat, but the rest of it trickled down the sides of my neck, where it congealed against the pearls of my grandmother's necklace.

"Now that's the pearl necklace a slut should wear," he said as he clambered off me and inserted his softening penis into my mouth. Reflexively I began sucking it, tasting my own juices and his. He gave a satisfied groan and wiped his flaccid cock over my lips.

Tears of humiliation stung my covered eyes. My blindfold had by then been soaked all through, sticking to my eyelids. In this moment of despair it felt almost as much a part of my face as my nose or ears.

The respite was a short one, and I soon felt another cock at my pussy lips. In the ensuing gang bang a succession of cock after anonymous cock pounded furiously into me. When I felt a cock nudge against my lips I sucked on it without protest, though some simply held my head in place as they fucked my face. Thankfully, however, none seemed interested in more than teasing my puckered entrance to my asshole, drenched as it was with my pussy juices. I lost count after the fourth or fifth cock as I was consumed by a haze of arousal, riding from an uncontrollable climax to the next. I must have cum at least half a dozen times.

After... fifteen minutes? an hour? it finally began to wind down, as the last man pulled out and came with a roar, his cum joining the rest coating my belly and breasts. I felt sore and thankful that my ordeal was over, but also sated in the afterglow of my multiple orgasms.

The party, however, was not over, but simply moved into low gear as the room gained an air of post-coital conviviality. I was led to a corner, where I knelt, the congealing semen on my body slipping down my shaven crotch to drip on the carpeted floor. The necklace was resting on my shoulder blades. Sometime when I was on my back, the necklace had slipped backwards so that it hung between my shoulder blades. The pearls, stuck to the front of my neck with dried semen, felt like I was wearing a collar.

As if on cue, I felt someone tug lightly at the necklace from behind. "Come, whore," a voice said. I heard the sounds of a football match in the background as I was passed around, sucking semi-erect penises back to hardness as the strangers watched the game or carried out conversations. On some of their cocks I tasted a hint of my own juices, and blushed at the memory. Throughout they paid me no mind, only occasionally deigning to give me terse instructions. In a way, it was even more humiliating than it had been when I had been overwhelmed by their desire, instead of merely a pleasant distraction. I felt a fresh rush of shame when I realized I craved their attention. I pushed the thought to the back of my head and focused on blowing the cock in my mouth, and did not stop when I heard someone beside us.

"...so, I hear you're getting your Master's degree soon?" he said casually, as if he wasn't getting a blowjob. A pause. "Oh, don't worry about her, Woody's done a good job. She knows what she is. You used to be her teacher at St. George's, right?"

My heart skipped a beat, and I froze mid-stroke.

"Yeah, maths, eighth grade. I'd never have guessed she'd turn out to be such a raging whore."

A face flashed before my shrouded eyes – bespectacled and unassuming, with mousy hair and a wispy goatee. Mr. Robson. I remember him being well-intentioned but completely unable to control his class. I had been one of his better students.

"It's always the quiet ones," the man whose cock I was sucking said, stroking my hair fondly. "Keep sucking, Ms. Chang. Oh yes, we know exactly who you are, Julie," he added when I gave a muffled cry. Very few people from my childhood have ever called me 'Ms. Chang'.

I could not help but sob in humiliation as I processed this revelation that the sliver of anonymity I had clung to all night had been a sham. When I tried to pull away, the man who I now knew was the janitor at my old high school instead pushed my head towards his crotch, ramming his shaft down my throat in one stroke.

"Did you think that blindfold would hide your identity, little slut? That none of us would recognize Henry Chang's little girl the moment you came in?" He punctuated his taunting with forceful thrusts that pushed it deeper into my throat with every stroke. I gagged, my throat constricting painfully around his invading cock. I was sure I was going to puke, but fortunately he tensed up and came first, pushing incrementally deeper in with every orgasmic jerk. I felt his load slide down my gullet, though I was thankful he came so deep in me that I didn't have to taste it.

When he released me I fell on my elbows, gasping and choking at his feet. "I thought... I thought you were my friend," I rasped shakily.

"Tonight, slut, we're all your friends," he replied glibly, though I thought I detected a hint of remorse.

The rest of the night, thankfully, went in a gentler vein. Mr. Robson had a turn with me, as did a few others, but they were happy to just let me suck their cocks. When the football match ended, I heard them making their farewells, and I felt a hand on my head. "Let's go, my whore," a familiar voice said.

In the car Woody tore off the blindfold. After hours in complete darkness, even the grimy colors of the back alley appeared sharp and distinct. It was like a splash of cold water, and it left me shivering. I wrapped my arms around myself. What have I done?

"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?"

I found that I wasn't sure what to reply. It had been something I'd long fantasized about, but yet- I swallowed, and the lingering bitter aftertaste of a dozen men at the back of my tongue made me feel defiled.

He reached out, and I shrank away, but his hand cupped my chin and turned my face forcefully to regard him. "I said, bitch, did you have fun?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Yes, sir." Despite myself I felt my pussy getting moist again at his rough touch.

We didn't speak as he drove me home. My emotions were all tangled up, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of them. Woody for his part seemed content to let me stew in them.

I broke out of my reverie a few streets from my house.

"Woody, I- I want out," I said, thumbing the knob that unlocked the door. "I don't want to do this anymore." I wasn't sure myself what I meant by this.

I glanced at him, almost expecting to flinch from the sudden force of his anger. His face was unreadable in the shadows, but at length he nodded, and the car shuddered to a stop by the sidewalk.

"Out you go."

I gaped at him. "Here?"

"I won't force you to get out, but I'm going home right now." I saw the corner of his mouth curl up slightly. "What'll it be, cunt?"

I hesitated, my hand hovering over the car door handle.



The Edge of Darkness



All characters are simple figments of my imagination and are 18 years of age or older.

*

"Is it the beast you fear?" She asked quietly. 

The small, dark skinned girl in front of her did not look up to where the soft, feminine voice came from. Her dark, tight curls were matted to the side of her face, sweat trickling down the tip of her nose only to be knocked off when her young body was slammed forward repeatedly by the man behind her.

This had gone on for over an hour and the youthful body of Rhonda Jameson was beginning to bruise as the large man behind her continued to pound his cock into her nearly dry pussy. The price for a rock was one that she had paid numerous times over the last year, a piece of ass for a bit of relief in her drug driven life. She didn't mind fucking, it was her second favorite pastime next to drug use and if she could get both then life was good...except this time. Oh, she had been beaten and roughed up before, even had rough sex numerous times, but never fucked until it hurt like tonight. 

Her pussy had started to go dry after her third orgasm had taken her. The size of the cock stretching her pussy and the rough hands on her black tipped nipples had driven her over the edge but he had still not released his load inside her. When the first signs of soreness set in she had tried sucking the large mans cock with the hope of making him cum so she could get out of here but he just stayed rock hard until finally grabbing her and flipping her on the stomach. The saliva that was still on his cock served as lubricant for only a handful of strokes back inside her before the friction began to cause pain again.

'If only the pale bitch hadn't come in', she thought to herself. The thrusting from behind had not let up and she didn't want to look up into the face of the white woman that had come in only moments after they had started fucking. Knowing that some dealers liked to watch her eat their girlfriends pussy was nothing new so she didn't say anything about the woman being in the shabby room and seeing her get fucked. 

"Go ahead," The voice whispered, "Taste me, taste what so many have died for."

The young black girl lifted her head, the intoxicating scent of the pale woman's pussy filling her nose, the smooth, white thighs spread before her only inches away. Her mind blocked out the pain coming from between her legs as she stared forward, mouth opening, tongue slipping out and stretching forward. The smooth thighs led up to a clean shaved, puffy pussy with slightly darker inner lips flowering out beneath a thick, swollen clit. A trickle of pussy juice was leaving a clear trail from the small gap at the entrance of the pussy onto a tight, hairless asshole, the moisture reflecting the light from the single bulb that hung from above.

Rhonda really didn't mind eating pussy and this one was absolutely beautiful to her. Her tongue reached for the huge, swollen clit just as the man behind her slammed deeply into her own pussy, the force pushing her face into the narrow strip of dark pubic hair that started just above that beautiful clit and ended in a neat rectangle several inches up.

"You are not very good at this."

"I'm...I'm sorry," She stammered out in between thrusts, "I will try harder to, ugh, please you." Her tongue finally found the large, fleshy clit and began licking up and down, her saliva wetting the sensitive area.

It wasn't that Selene didn't enjoy having her pussy eaten by crack whores but her true pleasure came from watching the humiliation they were willing to submit to for a quick fix. She would often reach an orgasm from the nasty street dwellers but rarely anything that left her satisfied for more than a few minutes. She had often been called a predator who fed on sex and humiliation, a reputation so severe that even her fellow Vampires were unwilling to bed her any longer leaving her twisted tastes to feed on humans and shifters.

Vanak, the man fucking Rhonda Jameson raw, was a shifter, part man, part beast who reveled in the sexual ludeness that Selene constantly offered him. Rhonda had no idea what this fix had gotten her into or that this would be her last night in this world.

"Vanak?" Selene called to him glancing down to the black curls buried between her thighs.

"What?" Vanak growled, his thick hands each clasped one of the girls big ass cheeks as he continued to pound her mercilessly, sweat dripping off his shoulder length hair and running down the back of the girls dark thighs.

"Shift." She ordered, a smile crossing her beautiful face.

"What?" He asked again, his thick cock pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in.

"Shift." She ordered once more, eyebrows dipping in a demanding stare that locked with Vanak's eyes, "Now."

Rhonda knew something was wrong by the tone of the woman's voice and by the fact that Vanak had stopped fucking her for the briefest of moments. Then she knew pain.

When the thick shaft of Vanak's cock slid all the way back to the hilt he paused. His cock was large compared to most that she had seen but now it was impossibly swelling inside. Her eyes bulged as she felt him slide amazingly deeper into her womb, the wall of her pussy stretching, the pain nearly unbearable. The hands that gripped her ass were suddenly digging into her, sharp pricks of pain, until finally she felt the skin of her ass cheeks punctured by the tips of the claws. She cried out in pain, her face pulling away from the pussy in front of her only to feel two hands grab the back of her skull and roughly force her face back between the soaking wet lips, her nose buried in the wetness between the two flaps of moist skin. She couldn't breath and couldn't get loose of the pale woman's grip that held her tight against the wet, swollen pussy.

Vanak completed the change, his snout elongating several inches to resemble a wolf head, his teeth becoming sharp fangs, ears pulling back. Dark grey and silver hair covered his body, his legs bulged with muscle his nut sack growing and hanging down. His eyes, a supernatural glow to them, traced down his ripped, fur covered chest and stomach to where his cock now stretched the whore's pussy beyond its limits, the animal in him panted heavily.

"Now fuck her Vanak, fill her with your Wolfen seed." And he did.

Vanak pounded the black ass in front of him, his cock tearing into the screaming whores pussy as Selene encouraged every one of his mighty thrusts. His eyes now locked on Selenes as his pace quickened, she licked her lips, "Time to cum Vanak." She said before lifting her left breast, firm and round, towards her mouth, the nipple set high atop the smooth curve, hard and extended from the excitement. Her tongue flicked out between pearl white teeth, between two razor sharp fangs, and licked the rock hard nipple before she sucked it longingly between her full, dark painted lips. The hard nub was sucked in and out of her mouth accompanied by slurping and moaning as her other hand effortlessly rubbed Rhonda's face up and down her gushing slit.

The huge beast flexed its powerful thighs, muscle rippling with power beneath a thin coat of fur, his hips thrusting forward violently and with amazing speed. The whore continued to try and please the sweet, intoxicating pussy in front of her but was having difficulty as the force of the thrusts from behind drove her harder and harder into the beautiful pussy. A mixture of severe pain and intense pleasure overtook her as she felt the massive inhuman cock bury itself as deeply as possible before unleashing a hot stream of cum. She screamed out as her damaged body gave into a mind shattering orgasm, her pussy throbbing as the beasts cock continued to pulse before finally all movement ended. Rhonda had blacked out.

Vanak's cock quickly began to soften and slipped from the whore's pussy with a squishing sound. A flood of cum with a hint of blood ran out of the whores stretched hole, her inner canal bruised and bloodied from the vicious fucking she had just received.

"Oh very nice Vanak! You've rocked the poor dear to sleep." Selene grinned, the tips of her teeth barely visible. 

Shifting back to human Vanak was already pulling his jeans up and buckling them, "I don't think I should meet with you anymore Selene."

"Oh why is that my pet?" She asked rolling the unconscious black girl from between her wet thighs and onto her back. "She really does have a tender young body," She said looking at Vanak, "don't you think?"

"You already know why." He said gruffly pulling his dirty muscle shirt on.

"Oh yes, now I remember." She ran her hands over the whores dark, firm breasts, pinching the nipples back until they were firm once more, "You don't want your precious Rachel to know that you fuck around on her, that she can't satisfy your animal nature. Is that right?" She smiled satisfied.

"Yes, that's exactly right!" He stared at her, "I do it because you make me do it."

"Oh Vanak, always so dramatic. I could let you out of my servitude but then you would wonder every day if beautiful Rachel was going to find out how her older sister died." Selene finished smugly.

"I should kill you and be done with it." 

"Vanak, how many times do you think I have heard that?" She asked sliding her body over the top of the prone whore, hands running down her thighs.

"Maybe I should just let you tell her. Then you would have to find someone new to be your twisted sex toy."

"Hmmm, that wouldn't be much fun," Selenes long, black fingernails slid between the whores closed inner thighs where they grasped the flesh and eased them apart, "besides, who else would do such a masterful job of getting my prey ready?" The whore's pussy was swollen, her hole still gaping with a steady flow of cum that had turned a shade of pink smeared down her ass crack, her inner thighs, and finally a puddle on the table. 

Selene slid her tongue out, the tip slipping between the spread black lips of the unconscious whores pussy, scooping up a thick glob of the pinkish liquid, "Mmm," She grinned, "A bit of blood, a bit of cum, almost perfect. I wonder if your precious Rachel would taste as delicious?" She said before stabbing her tongue down between the girl's ass cheeks to lick at the thick glob of cum that had settled there. Greedily she lapped at the unconscious whore's pussy and ass until there was no sign of Vanak's cum or the girl's blood. Looking up, perfect face smeared with the mixture of fluids, she was surprised to see that Vanak had left without even saying goodbye.

'Pity.' She thought to herself before finally feeding her true hunger.