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The Little Death

By: jjsharshaw



It was a quarter to 3 in the morning. Harris Craig, early morning TV anchor in Kansas City, was sitting nude at her bedroom vanity. She was getting ready for work. 

She leaned into the lights around the mirror, stretched her neck and gently ran a hand from her chin down her throat to her collarbones. She was looking at the distinctive bruising: a thumb shaped, dark purple bruise on one side of her throat and two finger shaped, lighter purple bruises on the other side. 

She ran a hand along the side of her right breast, hefted it gently with her palm and thumbed the nipple. There were bruises there too. 

And her ass burned.

She closed her eyes remembering the moment. 

The bruises and the burning in her rectum were cherished souvenirs of her lovemaking that night. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Harris and Bruce lay side-by-side facing each other. 

They were slowly kissing and petting. His hands were roaming over her body, gently caressing, probing. From time to time his fingers would find their way under her panties and shallowly enter her ass and sex. 

She reached for his cock and held it, slowly pulling on it in a slow, continuous rhythm. 

She lifted her head to give Bruce access to the underside of her neck and the shoulder she was laying on. 

Before she bent her head down to return the soft bites and licks Bruce was administering, Harris snuck a glance at Melissa, sitting in the overstuffed chair in the sitting room. 

Melissa was wide eyed as she watched the couple, Bruce's back to her, the couple's legs intertwined. 

This was not the first time she had watched as Bruce and Harris made love; occasionally she even participated. 

But tonight was going to be different. 

Very different. 

Harris bent her head to Bruce's neck moving up to his shoulder. She made eye contact with Melissa again. 

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply as Bruce obviously hit a pleasurable spot and she let it course through her body completely taking in the feeling. 

Harris re-established eye contact with Melissa after the wave had passed. Keeping her eyes locked with Melissa's, Harris bent to Bruce's shoulder and kissed it. 

The kiss turned into a bite. 

Bruce's body jumped slightly but he made no sound. 

Harris raised her face so that Melissa could see Bruce's blood smeared on her lips. 

Not acknowledging Melissa's shocked looked Harris dropped her head back down and kissed Bruce on the lips. She moved her right leg over the top of his hip and pulled herself closer into him.

Some silent signal passed between the lovers.

Bruce rolled Harris onto her back and sat on his haunches between her splayed legs. He brusquely pushed her oversized t-shirt up off her thighs to her belly and swiftly seized the top of her panties and yanked them down. 

Harris made a startled, urgent noise and hurriedly, clumsily helped Bruce get her panties completely off by pulling her legs back and out of them.

Harris again turned her head and sought Melissa's eyes. 

She raised her pelvis in response to Bruce's hands on her hips. She took two short gasps of breath as Bruce penetrated her. 

She wiggled her hips to help seat herself on his cock, making sure she was pressed tightly against pubic bone.

She smiled inwardly at Melissa's astonished look. Harris felt such wantonness; such abandon, such anticipation and Melissa had never seen her like this. 

Harris' body slowly rocked as Bruce took his first thrust forward and back. 

Harris smiled a small smile to Melissa as if to convey the bliss was just starting. 

Harris held Melissa's eyes until Bruce pulled her t- shirt over her face and then she fell into sync with Bruce's slow rhythm.

Bruce alternated between light caressing touches along the sides of her chest, across her belly and over her breasts with roughly massaging a breast, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it until Harris' body twitched slightly in pain.

Harris never made a sound except for her the increasing sound of her breath. 

Bruce pulled the shirt back down off of Harris' face and in a violent, fluid motion ripped it open so that Harris' face, throat and breasts were fully exposed.

Harris's face was covered with sweat, her hair plastered against her forehead. She reached for Bruce's shoulder and pulled him down to her. 

Bruce grunted as he shifted position, ripped the pillow from under Harris' head and pressed Harris fully to the bed with his weight. 

Urgently Harris sought his mouth. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him. 

They sucked each other's tongues urgently, wetly. 

Bruce suddenly sat back but the two lovers never broke their slow steady rhythm. Bruce rocked Harris' pelvis up a bit as he took a deeper position inside her. 

Harris made a whimpering sound and then hissed, pleaded, "Yes, please..."

Bruce caressed the side of Harris' face and then forced his thumb into her mouth. She sucked greedily on it. 

And then as she whimpered, snorting air out her nose loudly, he pressed his thumb down on her tongue and gripped her chin, tipping her head back and arching her throat. 

She struggled, her arms flailing by her sides, sounds of protest coming from her. She tried to shake her head "no" but his grip was absolute.

Bruce seemed to enjoy having her arched as she was. He ran his free hand over her belly; massaged it roughly. 

The hand moved up and took a breast. Harris seemed on the verge of getting loose from his grip. She managed to turn her head toward Melissa and find her eyes again. 

She thought to herself in that split second of time - which for her was beginning to distend - if Lissa could only feel this. 

Oh Melissa, you have no idea...

Harris was jerked back to reality as Bruce slapped first her breast and then her face. 

He forced her head back even further. Her strangled sounds of protest increased in volume, her arms moving on the bed, fingers tightly gripping the sheets and then letting them go to convulsively grip again. 

He rode higher against her mons and as he changed position this time he released her mouth, sliding his hand down her throat to take a grip. 

Harris seemed to enjoy this new position. She smiled mockingly up at Bruce and mouthed, "Yes." This was rewarded with another slap of breast and face.

"Cock-suck-ing Moth-er-FUCKER!" Harris spat at Bruce.

"Fucking CUNT!" Bruce spat back with equal venom. 

Harris didn't care, it was part of their "dance." And they were dancing so well tonight.

She wanted his grip. 

She wanted him to take her by the throat and thrash her. 

She increased her rhythm against him. 

Their roles suddenly changed. 

Harris now controlled the pace of the rhythm and Bruce controlled her throat and breasts. 

She was completely flat on her back, her legs still tightly holding his hips, her arms extended to her sides, fingers crushing the sheets. 

Harris violently shook her head - their sign for Bruce to readjust his grip to a more comfortable spot - and tighten it. 

She stepped the rhythm up, rocking harder against him. 

He reciprocated. 

Her eyes started to flutter. 

Time completely elongated. 

Harris watched a drop of sweat fall from Bruce's chin in slow motion and then felt it like a pleasurable shock wave as it hit her breastbone. 

Bruce tightened his grip more, increased his thrusts and pulled viciously at her right nipple. 

Harris' breathing was raspy, ragged in its rhythm and much louder. She threw a hand up to grip his arm that was pinning her to the bed by her throat and missed.

She moaned plaintively, her eyes partially closed.

Her second attempt to grab his arm succeeded but she only gripped it for a moment and then her hand slid down his arm and fell by her body.

She was starting to cross over, to get in the "zone." 

She could feel the anticipation building. She was so near. 

Bruce eased his grip just a bit. 

He waited until he felt the contractions start in her cunt and then tightened up again briefly and then eased off almost completely. 

Harris' legs slid away from his hips, her body went completely limp. 

"Harris?" Bruce whispered, stroked her face gently. 

She heard him from some long distance. She dimly knew she was supposed to respond to signal she was okay. 

She smiled slightly. 

The sensations...

God, the sensation was floating. It was euphoric.

She felt transcendent.

She mused in her altered state: Bruce has killed me. He was so sweetly violent. The world no longer exists. 

Ohhhhhhh, dearest Lord Jesus, my Lord. This is so sweet. Soooo incredibly sweet.

Harris was vaguely aware of Bruce penetrating her ass. Her body was jerking loosely, like a doll's body, to Bruce's frantic movements inside her. 

Hmmmm, have fun with me, my lover. She thought in her altered state. Yes...possess my body, possess me. Use me. So sweet...

Oh, yeah Bruce...I feel your cum...very nice, lover.

Then she was dimly aware of Melissa beside her, kissing her, talking to her frantically.

Was she crying? Was she angry?

"Harris? Harris? God! Harris? Bruce, you fucking bastard, what did you do to her?!" Melissa was frantic. 

Time to come back, Harris thought. 

So sweet. Ah...well.

"Liss...Lissa...lover..."

She felt Melissa's body move over hers and then heard her hit Bruce several times. "FUCKER! FUCKING BASTARD!"

Harris struggled to sit up with Melissa still over her. "Melissa! I'm okay! I'm okay, baby. I'm feeling very good. It's okay. Shhhhh."

~~~~~~~~~~

Harris smiled to herself, chuckled a bit under her breath at Melissa's fierceness with Bruce. 

Poor dear Bruce.

She turned and looked over her shoulder as Melissa Brant came out of the master bathroom, her hair down and damp and a towel wrapped around her. She was getting ready for work too. 

"Morning," Harris said cheerfully, as if the night had been a normal night, and then turned back to the vanity and started applying concealer to the bruises.

"Hey, girlfriend," Melissa said as she sat on the end of the bed and watched her lover. 

"God, Lissa, thanks so much for getting this concealer for me. It works better than anything I've ever used."

"My pleasure. You know, when we first hooked up and I saw the bruises I thought you'd either been mugged or raped or your husband was a real bastard of an abuser.

"I had no idea."

"Hmmmm," Harris smiled, "this was the first time you've seen us in action like that since we've been partners so now what do you think?"

"I'm not sure what to think. 

"Let's see, you are one freaky white woman, I know that. 

"Uh, I was so turned on watching you, watching your face, hearing the noises you made, seeing your body move like it did."

"You know Lissa," Harris interrupted, "you and I could do...we could have fun like that too." 

"Yeah, but lover, at the same time you and Bruce scared the living shit out of me. 

"Why on earth do you do it? Aren't you ever afraid?"

"I do it because it is the most wildly pleasurable feeling I have ever experienced," Harris looked at Melissa in the mirror and then applied a little more makeup. 

She stopped, thought a moment. "Well, there was that time I was on assignment in Ecuador," she continued almost wistfully, "and this local tribal shaman shot me up with something - heroin, I think - and forced me to have sex with some female college intern studying the tribe..."

"Oh, yeah," Melissa laughed, "Harris Craig 'forced' to have sex with a college intern. That's a good one!"

"Hey! Shut up!" Harris protested in mock hurt. "She wasn't that attractive so, you know," her voice trailed off, "but she gave great head and God, was she was fun to fuck..." 

Harris seemed to be lost in the memory for a moment. 

Melissa took notice. "You are getting wet sitting there thinking about that intern, aren't you? Aren't you?! You SLUT."

If Melissa only knew. 

Remembering the night in bed AND the intern, Harris Craig was on the verge of coming. 

But...work. Damn!

"But I'm your sweet slut, don't you forget that. Anyway," Harris snapped out of her reverie and completely sidestepped the question, "for consistent dangerous pleasure, there's nothing like what Bruce does to me. 

"Besides he loves me and he's very good at what he does."

Melissa stood and dropped her towel. "Uh huh," she did not sound impressed. 

"Baby, throw me those blue panties next to your jewelry case, please."

Harris picked up the panties - a pair of silk high cut briefs - held them to her nose with both hands, inhaled deeply and smiled gleefully. "MMMMMM, how long are you out for this time?"

"Uh, the panties, please, missy?"

"Oh, sorry - NOT," Harris giggled and threw the panties at Melissa. "Remember when we first met? The panties?"

"You are never going to let me forget that are you?"

Harris picked up another pair of Melissa's panties from the vanity and pressed them to her nose, her eyes dancing with mischief. 

"Um, I don't think so: miss former Marine Harrier pilot, little miss tough ass Marine aviator. You were so out there!" Harris laughed. 

"Well," It was Melissa's turn to sidestep, "I'm doing O'Hare to JFK for the next couple of days," she said as she hooked her bra and stepped into her panties. 

"I'll have to check my schedule. Then I think I promised another pilot I'd do his LaGuardia to Miami run for a day or two. I'll call you when I get to Chicago."

"I'll miss you."

Melissa came over to Harris, put her arms around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "I'll miss you too. I'll call you everyday, promise."

"Okay." 

Melissa went to the walk-in closet and finished dressing in her captain's uniform; she was a commercial pilot. 

When she came out Harris was already dressed in a formal green suit jacket and a pair of fashionably torn jeans. 

"No field work today?" 

"Nope, my viewers just get me from the waist up. And then I'm shedding the bra and putting on my 'I'm With Stupid' t-shirt and meeting Bruce for lunch."

"You are so bad!"

"I have my moments. Hey, sounds like your ride's here."

Melissa hugged Harris, kissing her lightly on the lips. Harris gave a little whine and kissed her back, harder.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Melissa pulled back slightly but not out of Harris' embrace, "Your lipstick! You'll have to redo when you get to the studio."

"Mmmmm, so? I love you."

Melissa returned the kiss, softly, "And I love you too. I gotta go. Kiss Bruce for me. Tell him I am SO sorry."

Harris laughed gently, "He knows though I think he's going to be sore for a day or two. You can punch, you know. Have a safe tour."

Melissa picked up her bag and then she was out the door headed for the airport van in the driveway.

A few minutes later Harris leaned over her sleeping husband, kissed him twice on the cheek, whispered, "I love you and so does Lissa, she says to tell you she's sorry." 

Bruce stirred without opening eyes, grunted, "I know. Love you - and her - damn she can throw a punch."

"See you at lunch."

~~~~~~~~~~

It was 15 minutes before Harris was supposed to meet Bruce for lunch when Harris called him on her cell, disappointment in her voice.

"Honey?"

"Hey, you running late?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking. I'm afraid I'm going to have cancel our lunch date..."

"What's up?"

"You know what a klutz I can be..."

"Harris, what happened? Where are you?" 

"Well...I'm very comfortable right at the moment in the ER at St. Luke's. I, uh, well; I twisted my ankle getting out of the car. Tore something in my ankle and my knee AND wrenched my back really bad. Can you come be with me? I think they're going to operate." Her voice cracked a little. 

"I'll be right there. Don't be scared." 

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce Craig was in far southern Johnson County and by the time he made it to midtown and St. Luke's Harris was already in surgery. Krista Daniels, one of the morning assignment reporters and Toby Helling, her co- anchor were in the surgery waiting room. 

Bruce was winded from running in from the parking garage and flustered when the ER clerk told him Harris was already in surgery.

"Guys, what the hell's going on?"

Toby stood and shook hands with Bruce, "Bruce," then he deferred to Krista.

Krista got up and hugged him, "She's okay, big guy. She said to tell you she'd see you later, she loved you." 

"She was a little scared, upset that they were taking her before you got here but, they gave her the celebrity treatment, you know." Krista smiled, laughed slightly. 

"They took extra good care of her in the ER and gave her something to calm her down and now they're just doing arthroscopic surgery on her ankle and knee."

"Well, so, what happened?"

"She thinks her ankle rolled under her when she stepped out of the Explorer and that took her knee with it and then she twisted to grab hold on to the door to try to keep from going down and screwed her back up."

"Where'd it happen?"

Toby was staring intently at the floor, barely able to suppress a grin, "Uh, Bruce, she was in her parking space. She said there was a butterfly on the hood ornament and she wanted to see it up close."

There was a moment of silence; an awkward moment and then Bruce cracked a grin. "Jesus, she is such a klutz. Her parking space?"

Toby and Krista relaxed, trying (not very hard) not to laugh, "Yeah."

They all sat down to wait. 

~~~~~~~~~~

His cell phone roused him from a catnap. 

"Uh, yeah?"

"Bruce, hi, it's Lissa. How's your arm?"

"Bruised. Severely."

"Sorry - again. Really Bruce. Hey, uh, where's Harris? I've been trying to get her since Chicago." 

"Lissa, you sitting down?"

"In the left hand seat. We're waiting to push back at LaGuardia."

"Ah. Well, Harris had a little accident. Nothing terribly serious but she messed her knee and ankle and back. I'm waiting for her to get out of surgery."

"Oh my God, Bruce! Was she in much pain?"

"No, I think they kept her very comfortable. Anyway, I get to take her home after she wakes up. She's going to be laid up for a while. I'm not sure what I'm going to do, I'm working down in Lynn County this week and next..."

"Hang on a sec, Bruce."

In the background Bruce heard Melissa's silky, contralto voice on the radio, now brassy with military authority. 

"LaGuardia Ground this is UAL 5-4-2 for O'Hare. I got a spouse in emergency surgery in KC. Just when the HELL are you going to let me push back?"

"Ah...UAL 5-4-2, LaGuardia Ground...sorry, must have been some ah...radio interference. Uh, say again, are you requesting an immediate push back?"

"LaGuardia, 5-4-2, that's affirmative."

"5-4-2, LaGuardia Ground, we just so happen to have an immediate opening to push back. Looks like you'll be third in line for runway one three. 5-4-2 cleared to taxiway P, runway one three."

"LaGuardia, 5-4-2," Melissa's voice was now inflecting the way she talks when she 'seduces' Harris, "you are most gracious, sir. 5-4-2 pushing back, taxiway P, runway one three."

"5-4-2, LaGuardia, certainly my pleasure, ma'am. UAL 5-4-2 pushing back, taxiway P, runway one three. God's speed, 5-4-2."

She was back on the phone. "Bruce, I'll be home by 10 or 11 tonight. Gotta go. You take care of our girl."

"Don't worry, Lissa, I will. Love you."

"Love you too, Bruce. See you soon."

Bruce clicked the 'end' button on his phone, rubbed his shoulder where Melissa had pummeled him. "That'll be the quickest flight ever flown New York to O'Hare in a passenger jet," he said quietly to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce and Harris Craig were not the average couple. In fact, in their minds, they weren't a couple at all. 

They were in a committed relationship with Melissa. 


The Little Death



But to the guy on the street, the average TV denizen, complicated social constructs are, well, complicated. So to polite society, they were a model couple and model citizens. 

He was a cardiologist. She was a morning TV news anchor on the number one morning news program in the market.

Their private life was just that: private. In fact, it was very private and only a handful of carefully chosen people knew of their marriage arrangement and their sexual proclivities. 

Two years ago Harris met Melissa on a flight from Chicago to Kansas City. 

It was an unusual first meeting. 

Melissa knew Harris from the television and had a huge fantasy crush on her. 

On a tour through the first class cabin, after making polite chitchat with Harris, Melissa got really brazen. 

She hit on Harris - with all the subtly of a fart in a phone booth. 

But then she was just out of the Marines. Subtly wasn't in her pilot's lexicon. Her call sign when she was flying close air support was "Blunt Instrument," "Blunt" for short. If Marine 1st Lieutenant Melissa Brant couldn't kill you with her Harrier attack jet she could hold her own in any bar fight anywhere in the Fleet and pummel any attacker like a blunt instrument. 

She leaned close to Harris and half whispered, "You know, Ms. Craig, I'm a huge fan of yours and I'm also a lesbian and quite often when I'm up getting ready for work I'll lay back in my bed and watch you and masturbate. 

"Care to have a drink a little later after we land?" 

And Melissa stood up to wait for the response.

The smile on Harris' face froze, as she looked up at the tall, lean, beautiful pilot with skin the color of warm, milk chocolate. 

There was a very awkward silence then, a nervous laugh, "Ahhh, you know Captain Brant..."

"First Officer Brant. You can call me First Officer Brant, ma'am." Melissa interrupted, seemingly deadly serious, like her title was very important. 

"Sorry. You know..." Harris giggled a bit, "you know, uh, First Officer Brant, uh, no one's ever said that to me before. Though I guess people frig themselves and beat off all the time fantasying about people on the TV." 

"And, uh, you just hit on me, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I think I did."

Melissa had an earnest/mischievous/foolish, half embarrassed smile on her face that showed she wasn't completely insane and in that instant - though Melissa wouldn't know it for six months - Harris Craig fell madly, deeply in love. She knew she'd found the third for her and her husband's three-way marriage. 

Harris was simply that way. She lived in the moment. 

"Okay, well," Harris looked down to her lap, pulled some imaginary lint off her skirt and cleared her throat, "uh, I have to be on air in the morning so I've got to get home as soon as we touch down but I've got tomorrow night free. Drinks, maybe dinner?" 

Before Melissa could respond - it was her turn to be shocked - Harris motioned her to bend down so she could whisper something, Harris' mouth mere inches from Melissa's ear, "We could talk about your masturbatory technique." 

"Maybe I could give you some tips or...I'd give you my panties, the ones I wear to our date! I'll sign them for you. 

"I bet you pull a nipple while you're frigging yourself and you have big, beautiful areolas. 

"And you can also tell me whether that undoubtedly beautiful black pussy of yours is shaven smooth or big and bushy or something in between."

Melissa stood up, a confused expression on her face. Harris was still smiling the smile she had when Melissa had made her "proposition." 

Melissa broke into a smile and then a nervous laugh. 

"Ah. Ah-hah-hah! You know, I'm sorry. It's been a long day. I was so out of line talking to you like that. You're getting me back, aren't you? Having a little fun? Okay, I deserved that."

"No, really. I meant it. Tomorrow night? Here's my card. My cell number is on the back. Call me tomorrow. Please."

Melissa took the card and looked at it in disbelief. 

"And the part about uh, techniques and stuff, that was a put on, right? Just a little joshing around with the nasty, tactlessly stupid first officer?"

"Only if you aren't a lesbian and aren't interested in having me. Uh, but I don't give it up until about the third date, uh, except, I'll usually let you cop a feel under my shirt and panties sooner - and," Harris hesitated but watched Melissa's face intently, "only if my husband approves."

Melissa looked disappointed. 

"I uh, I'm not into swingers. But thanks anyway. Maybe the panties though - you know, as a souvenir?" 

Melissa smiled, tried to recover gracefully from this situation she'd impulsively gotten herself into.

Harris reached for Melissa's hand to keep her from leaving, "Oh, we're not swingers but you're going to have to invest some time in me to find out what's up. I don't think you'll be sorry."

Melissa kept the date and "officially" joined the couple six months later. 

Bruce, Harris and Melissa were a "Vee" in the parlance of polyamory. Harris was the "pivot point" at the bottom of the "V". Bruce had legal standing as Harris' husband and was at the end of one of the arms of the "V". Melissa was on the end of the other arm of the "V". 

Bruce and Melissa had their primary emotional and sexual relationship with Harris though Harris could see the relationship slowly flowering between Bruce and Melissa. Maybe this would turn into a "triad," a true three-way relationship.

Harris had been the pivot point for their second poly "marriage" and now she was serving as the pivot for a second time. (Their first Vee lasted 8 years and Bruce was the pivot.)

So Bruce and Melissa were intimate with Harris but except for a few times, never with each other though they all shared the same bed oversized bed when Melissa was in town.

Melissa, 4 years Harris' junior, had what might be best described as a fierce love for Harris although they shared an easy-going, vanilla lesbian sex life. 

She was funny and brazen and "out there." And Harris loved her dearly. 

Bruce, 12 years Harris' senior, also had a fierce love for Harris though he was less public about it. He and Harris were very "cool" and easy-going - except in bed where the rule was always rough and almost always on the edge.

There was little the couple hadn't at least tried sexually. 

Neither were into scat though Harris craved a golden shower now and again and Bruce was only to happy to oblige. 

And it was mutually agreed that Bruce did not have the figure to cross dress in a sexually appealing way. 

When Angelina Jolie was married to Billy Bob Thornton, Harris experimented with knife play and cutting her body and assaulting Bruce sufficiently to draw and suck at his blood.

Once, she even had Bruce stage a mock crucifixion.

After being urinated on, flogged, tortured with chains, nipple and labia clamps and candle wax and repeatedly raped and sodomized by Bruce over an 8 hour period she was then hung tied to a Roman Tau cross.

She was "impaled" cunt and ass on an improvised dildo made from cow and goat horns. That was her "seat" as she hung on the cross for 12 hours. 

It took her a week to recover. But she said she'd do it all over again - in a few years. 

The thing she liked best now was, in her words, "getting really, really fucked up and having Bruce be really, really rough and choking me into unconsciousness."

Though the fake crucifixion was physically daunting and psychologically battering, compression of the carotid arteries in the neck is one of the most risky acts in playing on the edge. 

Without any warning, the one being choked in this manner can suffer cardiac arrest that is difficult to revive - even if the paramedics are standing at the bedside when it happens.

It was this aspect of Bruce and Harris's sex life that completely freaked out the younger Melissa. 

Melissa was a hopeless romantic at heart. 

When they would make love in the afternoons, Harris would almost always fall asleep lying on Melissa's breast, an arm across Melissa's chest, her hand on Melissa's shoulder and her head snuggled into the hollow of Melissa's arm.

Melissa would simply lie there and watch her lover sleep, marveling at the contrast between Harris' white skin and short ash blond hair against her warm chocolate skin tone and listening to the rhythm of her soft breathing. 

Deadheading from O'Hare to KC in the jump seat of a Southwest 737, Harris was the only thing on her mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harris' surgery turned out to be more extensive than originally planned. They had to open both her ankle and knee to repair torn ligaments and provide some internal stability. She had pins in her ankle and a mid-thigh to foot fiberglass cast/brace. Still, Bruce got to take her home that night - heavily medicated. 

Melissa got home around 11 that night and found Harris in bed, propped up and surrounded by pillows. Bruce was asleep in a chair beside her. 

All three of them had a rough night as Harris began having muscle spasms from her back to her ankle. The pain med she was sent home on wasn't enough. Harris slept fitfully, if at all, because of the pain. Bruce and Melissa took turns holding her, trying to ease the pain. 

The next morning the surgeon upped the strength of the painkiller and added diazepam for both the muscle spasms and Harris' anxiety and frustration of being stuck in bed except to hobble on crutches (with help) to the bathroom. 

Things improved slowly.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Harris awakened Melissa around 2 AM on the third night home. 

"Psssst. Lissa, Lissa, wake up." Harris gently nudged Melissa. 

"Hmmmm? Wha- What is it, baby?"

"I have to pee."

"Okay, okay," Melissa mumbled sleepily. 

Melissa gingerly crawled over Harris and off the bed. She got Harris her crutches and helped her up and to the bathroom.

Melissa stood in front of Harris at the toilet and wrapped her arms under Harris' to help her lower herself down onto the toilet. 

"Oh, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus!" Harris hissed between clenched teeth as the muscles tightened up and went into spasm. 

"I'll check the clock. Should be time for something for pain. Sit tight."

"Oh, SHIT! God DAMN IT! You're funny, you know. I'll be right here when you get back. Do me a favor and HURRY your black ass up."

Melissa came back with two oxycodone's, two hydrocodone's and a 10 mg diazepam with a glass of water. 

Harris was almost in tears from the pain, hissing obscenities between clenched teeth and trying to shift her weight on the toilet seat to find some relief from the spasms. 

"Which ones?" Melissa held the pills out in her palm. 

"I'll take them all."

"Uh, honey...this is a lot of narcotics. Last thing I want to do is help Bruce drag your cute ass and that cast to the ER because you've overdosed."

"Really, Lissa, let me have them all...I've done more than this before - uh, recreationally."

"Well, okay," Melissa had never seen Harris do recreational drugs though sometimes before they made love Harris would take a pill and chase it with two fingers of brandy and be very mellow as they lay together. 

She handed Harris the pills and the water. Harris gulped them down followed by the water, which she drank so fast that some ran down her chin and onto her t-shirt.

"You want to try going back to bed or sit here until the meds kick in?"

"Uh...Owwww! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" Harris hissed again, yelling the last 'fuck.' 

"I think...I think I'll stay...here if that's okay with you." 

Harris gingerly leaned back against the toilet tank, her face covered in sweat and her t-shirt rapidly soaking with sweat as well as the spilled water. 

Melissa ran a washcloth under cold water, wrung it out and gently wiped Harris' face. 

"Oh, God, that feels good." And with that Harris broke down and sobbed. 

Melissa was gently shushing her; gently she moved her body as close to Harris as she could. She cradled Harris' head against her belly, kissed the top of her head and patted the washcloth down her face, throat and top of her chest. Whispering gentle encouragement to her. 

Time past. 

Melissa got a couple of pillows from the bed and put one under Harris' ankle and one behind her back. She turned out the main light and they sat in the darkness: Melissa, knees to her chest, on the vanity and Harris on the toilet. 

"Lissa?" Harris' voice was quiet, sleepy. The drugs were kicking in. 

"Yeah. Ready to go back to bed?"

"Almost. Stand by me; hold my head like you did a while ago. Please."

"Sure."

Melissa gently took Harris' head as Harris leaned toward her. Harris nuzzled Melissa's belly through Melissa's nightshirt.

"Things will get better soon, lover. You just need to hang...Harris? Harris? What are you doing?"

Harris was caressing Melissa's thigh, about to reach her shaven sex. 

"Endorphins," Harris whispered. "Shhhh."

At the last moment Harris' hand took a detour. Her fingers had played lightly at the hollow of her leg just next to her sex and then traced the curve of her ass around.

"Take off you shirt Melissa." Harris' voice was still sotto voce, her other hand now caressing Melissa's belly through her nightshirt. 

Melissa obeyed; gently pulling the shirt out from under Harris' head that still rested on her belly. 

Harris turned her face and ever so lightly kissed her lover's belly in that delicate area between the belly button and the top of the mons. 

"Hmmmm," Harris trailed her fingers near the spot where she kissed. "That's nice."

Melissa took a sharp breath in at Harris' touch. "Oh, yeah...my sentiments exactly." 

Harris trailed her fingers over Melissa's mound, tentatively pushed at the hood of Melissa's clit while placing another soft kiss on her belly, Harris' other hand still caressing Melissa's ass. 

"Damn! You know I just want..." Melissa was stopped in her sentence as Harris' finger moved into Melissa's slit. 

"...ah...ah...I just want to point out a couple of things here. JESUS CHRIST!..." Harris leaned back to put her hands on the vanity for leverage and involuntarily rocked her hips against Harris' probing finger. 

"Hold it! Hold on, baby! Stop!" Melissa stood and flipped on the nightlight.

Harris withdrew her hands and looked up, smiling, the effect of the drugs visible in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I just want to point out that, 'A', I think the endorphin thing is supposed to work when YOU'RE receiving the pleasure and 'B', don't be starting something you can't finish, because severe pain or not, you can't rev me up and then leave me hanging. 

"I'll have to go fuck Bruce and have you forgotten I'm a lesbian?"

Harris chuckled, took Melissa by the hips and looked up, "Okay. Look, feeling you, touching you in the dark, smelling you like this - " Harris paused, laughed softly, mimicked a child's playground taunting voice, "You've been playing with yourself today, haven't you, lover? I can smell it."

Melissa laughed, "Busted." 

"Anyway, Lissa, I am soooo wet right now.

"The drugs are feeling very, very nice and pleasuring you is making the endorphins pump away like crazy. I can feel them too. 

"And, don't worry, I'll finish what I start. Promise. 

"Now, turn the light out and stand beside me like you were."

Harris snuggled her head back against the flat of Melissa's belly, fingers going to Melissa's hip and ass. 

Fingers trailed down from the Melissa's hip through the hollow separating Melissa's belly and sex from her thigh while the fingers caressing her ass moved to her slit and slid upwards toward her clit. 

Melissa loudly sucked in her breath as she felt the pleasure run both directions - up and down her body. 

Harris' probing finger slid down to the mouth of Melissa's cunt and together with another finger, entered and went right to Melissa's G-spot and proceeded to rub lightly. 

The other hand went back to her hip and Harris' lips and tongue were lightly placing kisses all over Melissa's belly. 

Harris put her forehead against Melissa's belly and smiled in the darkness, waiting. 

Melissa was making short yelps, taking in short, sharp breaths and Harris could feel Melissa's vaginal muscles starting to contract around her fingers. 

Harris knew exactly where to pull Melissa's trigger. 

"Now I'm ready to go back to bed."

Melissa did not respond at first, lost in the pleasure, then, "Uh...give me a minute, white she- devil." 

Harris still had her fingers deeply in Melissa's cunt. "Want me to rub some more?" she teased. 

"No, no." Melissa's voice was high and breathy, "I'm just fine. Just hold still for a minute."

"Okay."

Melissa blew out a long, slow breath and lifted herself off Harris' fingers. Harris put them in her mouth and sucked noisily. 

"Well, I guess we're feeling better?"

"Hmmmmm, as long as I am immobile. I'm a little worried about getting back to bed. It's gonna hurt."

"That's alright. I'll return the favor when we get you back to bed."

~~~~~~~~~~ 

6 Months Later...

"Caress my hips, baby, just a little bit," Melissa hissed quietly. 

Harris looked up at Melissa, trailed the fingers of both hands down from Melissa's breasts and nipples where she'd been playing to Melissa's hips. 

Melissa rode up on the strapon dildo she was impaled on, came back down, rocking her hips to feel its full length inside her, and rubbed slowly against Harris' naked mons. 

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm...I am so close."

"Lissa...look at me...I want to watch your eyes."

Melissa obeyed. Her eyes were only half open and defocused, a slight smile twitched on her face. 

Melissa took several small, sharp breaths and then blew them out slowly. Her body froze in its position momentarily and then she sunk her full weight onto the dildo and Harris' hips. 

She closed her eyes and absentmindedly played with a hard, distended nipple. 

The ripples of her orgasm were slowly radiating through her belly. 

Harris smiled, caressed Melissa's belly. "It looks like that felt good."

Melissa gave a short laugh, "Mmmm, yes indeed. Very..." She sucked a breath in and froze again then blew out the breath as she enjoyed an aftershock, "Very nice."

"Come here."

Harris pulled Melissa down on top of her so that they were breast-to-breast and belly-to-belly. They kissed, long and slow. 

Shortly, Melissa sat back up, Harris leaning up, trying to follow Melissa's breasts, kissing as she went. When Melissa was fully upright Harris dropped back to the bed with a plaintive whine. 

Melissa smiled. 

"Give me a sec, Harris, I'll be back down. I want to snuggle. You know, it's usually you on top and then you get to fall asleep on my tit."

"You've found out my secret pleasure."

"Uh-huh," Melissa smiled down at her lover as she slowly lifted herself off the dildo, the dildo making a wet slithering noise as it came out, and dropped down beside Harris' body. She slid up against her so she was above Harris' head but her breasts were right at Harris' mouth level. 

Melissa cradled Harris' head against her breasts and pressed her mons into Harris' hip using her thigh as leverage; her knee and calf bending up to cover Harris' mons and up into her belly. 

They didn't speak. This was unusual for them after their usual slow and gentle lovemaking. 

Harris was occupied gently suckling Melissa's large areolas and stiff nipples. She stopped occasionally to lightly lick sweat from between Melissa's breasts. 

Melissa pressed her cheek down on Harris' head, her arms loosely around Harris' neck and was slowly and gently rubbing against Harris' hip. Occasionally she would move her knee and calf and give Harris a little rub.

Without warning Harris powered Melissa onto her back and lay on top of her, the top of her thigh firmly planted against Melissa's sex. 




The Little Death



"You want to come again," Harris teased. 

"Yeah, yeah, I do," was Melissa's slow and breathy response. 

"Would you let Bruce do you?"

"You want him to "do me," don't you?"

Harris smiled, dipped her head to one of Melissa's nipples, sucked hard, her teeth dragging as she pulled off, "Yeah, yeah, I do.

"Are you still afraid? You know he loves you as much as I do; he'll be very careful."

"No, I don't think I'm afraid and I know he loves me. It's fun to kiss and pet with him."

Harris looked up, a bemused smile on her face, "And just when have you guys been kissing and petting?"

"Ummmm...when you have a long day at the station...or when I was sleeping next to him while you were laid up and drugged out..." Melissa let the sentence hang, "Besides, Bruce can be so needy, you know."

Harris laughed, "You naughty - needy - little bitch! You're the one who's needy!"

Melissa made a mumbling noise to try to get past Harris' accusation and then, "But why can't we do it? You and me? You said we could that one night."

"Hmmmm, you need to feel him come. I can't explain it." Harris pulled the nipple she had sucked slowly until Melissa flinched, but she didn't let go, "It's so violent.

"He's penetrating you, fucking you, stabbing you with his cock. You can feel it pulsate." Harris released the nipple but then quickly and gently bit the edge of Melissa's areola. 

Harris pulled the nipple again with her teeth and then as she released it she slapped the side of Melissa's breast. Hard. 

"Hey!..." Melissa started to protest at the slap, still feeling the sting, but Harris scrambled further up her body and took Melissa's mouth. 

The kiss was rough. 

Harris drove her tongue as far into Melissa's mouth as she could. Melissa started to give her tongue to be sucked but Harris seized it, sucked it hard and then scraped her teeth over it as she released it. 

Harris' face was millimeters from Melissa's face. A drop of sweat was about to drip off Harris' nose. 

Harris was starting to breath hard. "He's fucking you," she hissed. "He's stabbing you. He's slapping and pulling and rubbing you like you are a piece of meat to be tenderized and eaten."

The sweat drop fell onto Melissa's lips. 

Melissa was panting now. 

Harris followed the drop down with her mouth. This time the kiss was tender. But then the follow up kiss was as rough as the first one.

Harris rubbed her knee deep and hard into Melissa's labia and felt Melissa's body tense from an orgasm. Harris smiled to herself, ignored Melissa's orgasmic pause and continued her assault on Melissa. She knew that Melissa was multi-orgasmic - something she always envied her for - and she was determined to drive Melissa insane with lust. 

There was something deep down inside that drove her to be rough with Melissa. She had her doubts at first about her motivations. She talked to Bruce about it. 

She prayed for guidance and for peace of mind and spirit. 

She still had doubts as their night together began with Bruce watching football in his study. But now; now the doubts lifted. 

She wanted Bruce to ravish her. To be rough with her, choke her, to give her the little death. 

She wanted to watch. She wanted to see Melissa come this way, to masturbate as Bruce fucked her. 

She wanted Melissa to feel and enjoy what she had felt and enjoyed since the first time she had surrendered herself to Bruce on their wedding night. 

"A piece of meat, fuck meat, you cunt, fuck meat," Harris hauled herself a little higher on Melissa's body so she could reach her ear. Harris rapidly stuck her tongue in Melissa's ear, withdrew it followed by a slow, hot breath and then sucked her earlobe and bit it. 

Melissa almost came as she felt that wave of pleasure. 

"Fuck meat," Harris breathed slowly into Melissa's, "to be possessed and eaten." She bit the earlobe again. 

"And you can feel that knife, that fat cock stabbing and pulsating," Harris' mouth was practically in Melissa's ear. 

"And with each thrust you can feel your cunt and your clit pushed and pulled...and the sensation, god damn!..." Another drop of sweat rolled of Harris' nose onto the side of Melissa's face and Harris stopped to lick it slowly, "it's so fucking, decadently delicious. You can't take it..."

Harris slid her body down Melissa's and took a nipple. Harris slapped Melissa's labia as hard as she could with the flat of her hand, rapidly dragging a finger up through her slit and flicking her engorged clit. 

Melissa screamed.

And then she moaned. 

And despite the stinging pain she had come again. 

Harris was back on top of Melissa's body, one hand tangled in Melissa's hair, holding her close to Harris' face and the other viciously working one of Melissa's nipples. Harris was panting in Melissa's ear, "You feel his hand on your throat...you want it...

"Lissa, you f-u-c-k-i-n-g c-u-n-t," Harris practically sneered, "you can feel that pressure in your belly, your cunt, it's pulling back...pushing forward...his pubic hair scratches and tickles with each thrust...his grip tightening around your throat.

"You're pinned flat on your back, his weight pressing you at your hips and your throat.

"You getting this girl?" And Harris again took Melissa's earlobe. 

Melissa was panting too, her body trembling, sweating. 

Harris was driving her insane. 

She couldn't think. She was so turned on but Harris had never, ever been this way in bed with her. 

All Melissa could do was nod slightly in response to Harris' question; she felt Harris' knee back and rubbing hard and she felt the warmth building in her cunt. 

Harris sensed the orgasm coming too; saw Melissa's eyes rollback. 

She breathed into Melissa's ear then pulled as hard as she could on the nipple she was playing with. "Come for me, baby, come for Harris. Come now." Harris licked up Melissa's jaw line and back into her ear. 

Melissa cried out, her body shook, Harris continued talking - whispering, hissing, the pace of her words incredibly quick and agonizingly slow by turns. The quality of her whispering intensely antagonistic and so seductive by turns. 

"Ummmmm, that was nice, baby...You don't want me to stop, do you...

"No, no... of course not...

"You're thinking of that knife, that fat pulsating cock in your cunt - pushing, pulling...

"You're imagining my weight as his...skin to skin...you're skin is so slick...hot...

"...His hands are choking you...they're pulling your nipples...they're slapping you...b-i-t-c-h slapping you...because you're..." Harris let the sentence hang in the air and Melissa whimpered. 

"Oh...shhhh, baby..." Harris stroked Melissa's hair and tenderly kissed Melissa's neck. 

Slowly, very gently, Harris whispered, "You just want to surrender, you want to give up control, you want the oblivion...

"It's like nothing you've ever felt...nothing...you want it...There's no fear, only trust."

Harris slid off Melissa's body, Bruce stood at the end of the bed, his erection flat against his stomach.

Melissa raised her head and stared at him. 

Harris cradled Melissa's head in her hands, whispered in her ear, "And when you feel him come...you can feel his cum, cool and slick, flowing into you, flowing out between your legs - you're reborn...that's why you and I can't do this with a rubber dildo..."

Melissa wiped sweat from her face with the back of her hand, still panting. Harris was quietly, softly kissing her. 

"Come take me Bruce..."

"Hmmmm...no, he's not going to force you, baby, you've got to give it up for him. You've got to want him and that cock. This isn't a rape."

Melissa turned and kissed Harris slowly and deeply. Then she turned back and faced Bruce, "Bruce, do you love me?"

"You know I do, Lissa." 

"I love you too," she spread her legs slowly, "come show this lesbian chick what you can do with that dick of yours," she hesitated, "just be careful."

~~~~~~~~~~

Simultaneously with the building and coming of an orgasm - the likes of which she had not felt before - Melissa felt her consciousness slipping away and into an altered state. 

Her legs slipped from Bruce's hips, her eyes were glassy and defocused. 

She sensed her body jerking as Bruce took his pleasure in her. 

She sensed Harris softly stroking her face, planting light kisses on her face, murmuring soft, loving words. 

She could sense Harris' scent...thought she sensed Harris moaning now...was she getting off?

Oh! Yeah!...she was floating...it was indescribable! She loved it and - 

Ah! Ah! She took two sharp breaths as she sensed Bruce flow into her. 

It was cool. All the erotic literature said it was supposed to be hot cum but it was cool. It was refreshing. 

She was reborn. 

Melissa coughed a couple of times. She sighed a plaintive sigh as she felt Bruce's weight lift and his cock slide from her. 

Harris helped her sit up. "Lissa? Babe? You okay?"

Melissa smiled a weak smile, first at Bruce then at Harris, "Oh, you are both white devils, you are...that was so fucking wild!"

She started to cry and laugh at the same time.

Harris hugged her tightly and laughed and cried with her, "Told you."

Melissa tried to compose herself. She looked deadly serious, in a comical sort of way as she was covered in sweat, tears and sweat streaking her face and trying not to giggle. 

"I just need to warn you both. You do this to me again without telling me it's coming and I will open up the biggest can of whupass either of you have ever seen and Bruce, you know I can hit."

Bruce grinned, "Semper Fi."

"Fuckin' A and don't you forget it. Come HERE."

Bruce leaned forward and Melissa wrapped her arms tightly around him. She whispered, "So you do know what to do with that dick of yours besides beat off and fuck my girl."

"Hey, Fuckin' A."

Melissa fell back in Harris' arms and pulled Bruce with her. 

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a quarter to three in the morning. Melissa Brant sat naked at the bedroom vanity getting ready for work.

She leaned into the lights around the mirror, stretched her neck and gently ran a hand from her chin down her throat to her collarbones. 

She was looking at the distinctive bruising: a thumb shaped, dark purple bruise on one side of her throat and two finger shaped, lighter purple bruises on the other side. 

She ran a hand along the side of her right breast, hefted it gently with her palm and thumbed the nipple. There were bruises there too. 

She closed her eyes remembering the moment. The bruises were cherished souvenirs of her lovemaking that night.

Harris Craig came out of the master bath with a towel around her and toweling her short hair. 

She walked over to Melissa, hugged her from behind, holding Melissa's bruised breast. "Who's the freaky woman now? Hey," Harris kissed Melissa's throat, "nice bruises, babe."

Melissa leaned back against Harris, turned her head and kissed her. "Hey, shut up and go get me some panties out of the laundry basket."

Harris returned the kiss and hugged her again. "The clean or dirty basket?"

"Freak."

~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: Compression of the carotid arteries is the most dangerous form of breath play that exists, whether done by a partner or solo. 

Compressing the carotid arteries not only blocks oxygen rich blood flow to the brain but pressing on bodies surrounding the arteries known as the "carotid sinuses" produces reduced heart rate and lowers the blood pressure. 

Oxygen deprivation, slower heart rate and lower blood pressure coupled with the rigors of rough sex or intense masturbation gives the feeling, at orgasm, of extreme euphoria and intensifies the perception of the orgasm in both men and women. 

My wife, whom has had the pleasure many times over the years, calls her experience completely transcendent, if only for brief moments. 

However, for all the reasons just listed, erotic or autoerotic asphyxiation by carotid artery compression is not to be taken or done lightly. 

The person being choked is literally placing their life in the hands of their partner. Cardiac arrest can occur from the slower heartbeat, lower blood pressure and electrical disruption of the cardiac rhythm at just the right moment in the cardiac/electrical pumping cycle. 

Though studies have not likely been done - yet - it is probably safe to assume that men and women who take Viagra or other chemical substances that effect cardiovascular dilation (amyl or butyl nitrates for example) suffer increased risk of cardiac arrest during erotic asphyxiation. 

Nitroglycerin for chest pain should not be administered to people with chest pain within 48 to 72 hours of taking Viagra due to the possibly of irreversible hypotension and cardiac death. 

Each year hundreds of men and women die from autoerotic asphyxiation, either from cardiac arrest or from strangulation when they lose consciousness while having a rope, towel or belt around their throat as a noose while they masturbate.

Like the Sergeant on "Hill Street Blues" used to say as he dismissed roll call, "Be careful out there." 



The Little Death



The most addictive feeling in the world is that between panic and arousal. The feeling that submitting to overpowering lust will bring you pleasures you never dreamed of…in exchange for an eternity of death and damnation.

And I should know.

I felt it the night I died.

I was not an adventurous woman. I worked an ordinary nine to five job, in an ordinary office. I wore the same gray suit, answered the same boring phones, and distracted the same bitchy clients my boss avoided everyday. 

I didn't fit any beauty standards. I wasn't blond, with perfect skin, big breasts and soft curves. I was tall and slender, slightly muscled from the variety of martial arts classes I'd taken, with an above average strength men found irritating. I was of Asian and Slavic descent, and the result were lips that were overfull, B cup breasts, pin straight dark hair, and ruddy gold skin. It was the signature slant to my eyes and their piercing blackness that gave my Asian heritage away. With an identity as ambiguous as my looks, I had no self-esteem, and as a result, I sold myself short during my short time on earth.

I'd had sex all of twice in my life. I lost my virginity to an overweight deadbeat who'd get so lost in incestuous fantasies about his sister that he couldn't get me off. Next in line was a selfish frat boy, who, like many frat boys like him, told me he loved me, and fucked everything but the light sockets behind my back. After that, I gave up on relationships, sex, and men. I knew it was pathetic to let two assholes ruin it for me, but in my brief lifetime I had so little confidence I didn't think there was anyone who'd want me. So I gave up. I bought a decent vibrator, and made sure to keep my best friends: Ben and Jerry, and Jack Daniels, near me every night. I had orgasms, but I realized they were a cheap thrill, satisfying me just enough to keep me sane. Between that and the odd martial arts class, I had a lonely, simple life…and I was miserable.

It all changed when I got the package. 

I had just gotten home from work. It was October thirtieth, Devil's night. As usual, I threw my keys aside, and was undressing when I noticed the box in the middle of my floor. 

It wasn't much to look at, about two feet long and half a foot high, wrapped in brown paper with a label bearing my name. I had no idea where it came from. There was no return address, and I'm not the type to order stuff online. I shouldn't touch it, I thought. It could be drugs or a bomb, and then, cursing myself, I tore the paper aside and threw the box open. 

It was beautiful. 

A red satin corset, designed in such a way that a woman wouldn't have to worry about small breasts and a slender frame. This was the type of thing made to produce cleavage and a curvy body in someone like me, who couldn't look in the mirror with a friendly eye. With it was a pair of skin-tight leather pants that laced up on both sides, and a long black cloak. At the bottom of the box, was a piece of paper.

"The Funhouse. 9 pm. Be There"

It was signed simply "Your Secret Admirer".

I didn't know whether to be flattered or horrified. The Funhouse was the local S&M club, and I'd always thought the people who frequented that sort of place were freaks. This so-called admirer of mine was undoubtedly one of them. What was it about me that had attracted someone like that? It didn't matter. The fact was that I needed to get out. I needed freedom from the misery of my ordinary life; I needed freedom from all the boredom.

To hell with the risks.

A half an hour later, I was showered and scented, and lacing myself into the corset. I eased the pants over my legs and zipped myself into black leather boots. With a steady hand, I painted my lips the blood red of the corset, and lined my piercing dark eyes in black. Tying my hair to the back of my head, I threw the heavy cloak over my shoulders and looked at myself in the mirror.

I couldn't believe what I saw. It wasn't me, but it was gorgeous, and the surge of confidence it gave me made me leave my panties at home. Tonight, I was a sex goddess. My admirer might turn out to be a freak, but his gifts gave me a feeling of power I had never felt. Meeting him was the least I could do. With the heavy cloak over my shoulders, I grabbed a tiny pouch with a twenty in it, fastened it 'round my waist and headed out the door.

The Funhouse wasn't quite what I expected...but let's be fair; I'd never been in a place like that before. The first thing I noticed was the darkness. The only light in the room came from one of those multi-coloured dance club lights and the dim glow that seeped through the door of the dungeon. Around me, people dressed in a variety of leather, velvet and PVC sipped their drinks from benches shaped like paddles. I could see in their eyes the knowledge that I was, until now, an outsider. They watched from their seats in that lazy way animals eye fresh prey. The hunger of the club's patrons was thick in the air and I inhaled it with every breath. It pulsed around me, filling my body with warmth…but that wasn't what made me so uncomfortable. In their watchful eyes was a look suggesting that they knew something I didn't, and that put me on edge. I decided at that point, that I would meet my admirer, thank him, or her, and leave. Little did I know that the second I set foot in the door the decision was no longer mine to make. 

I scanned the crowd for my secret admirer, but he had yet to appear. In attempt to calm my growing unease, I went to join the few people dancing. As I approached the floor, they parted, allowing me entry. They were beautiful, I thought lazily as I began to sway to the music. Their skin, black, white and gold, was liquid smooth and seemed to glow in the darkness of the room. Their eyes, in varying shades of brown, blue and green, had a silvery gloss to them, and each pair seemed to bore into me with their penetrating stares. In a panic, I shut my eyes against them, and as my hips moved instinctively to the music, the club's patrons danced around me, hissing softly as they brushed against me. The hunger of the people around me was becoming stronger and it affected me like a drug. I hardly noticed when the dancers began touching me, for I was so lost in the music, and in the hunger, that I didn't care. As one brushed against me from behind, a beautiful blonde trailed her fingers over the tops of my breasts above the corset. Strong hands slid over my leather-covered ass and squeezed me firmly, while others slipped behind the cloak to trace the length of my spine between the laces of my top. As one man ground his cock against me, a woman slid her hand up the inseam of my pants. I gasped, and my head fell back against the shoulder of another dancer, who slid his fingers beneath the corset to tease my nipples, before releasing the clasp of the cloak I wore. The cool air of the room now teased my bare back, and fleetingly, I realized that the ground had been shifting beneath my feet. I opened my eyes when the movement stopped, and realized the group had led me down the stairs, and into the dungeon. 

Consciousness returned in a rush, and in a panic I looked to the door, but one of the dancers was already locking it. He was a beautiful, androgynous looking male, clad in a leather pants and a shirt of crimson silk that hung open, displaying his pale skin and lean muscles. He ran his fingers through his long, dark red hair, and with a smile tugging at his lips, he held up the key. 

"Looking for something?" he asked; his mild Scottish burr that only made him sexier. With shocking horror, I realized he was my secret admirer. As if reading my thoughts, he smiled and nodded in simple acknowledgment, and with a wink and a snap of his fingers, made the key disappear.

There had to be another way out, I thought. These people were going to rape or kill me, and I refused to go gently. I ran down the stairs and saw the door at the opposite end of the room, but the remaining dancers, staring and hissing at me, formed a wall that kept me from leaving … and then, one by one, they attacked. I was no slouch in a fight. I'd won medals in martial contests in the past, knowing that someday I would need those skills. It was the only thing I had ever accomplished. As the first one came at me, I delivered blows to the face, neck, and solar plexus, barely dodging lightning fast strikes at my neck and stomach. The second one attacked, and landed a blow to my jaw, but high on bloodlust, I whacked mercilessly at the back of his knees, and then sent a punch to his nose. One after another, I fought them, but they were unnaturally strong, and their endurance was endless. By the fifth attacker I was weary, and as a sixth came at me, I was prepared to die.

"That's enough!" 

It was the man with the key. He was clapping as he descended from his perch atop the stairs. 

"I'm impressed, Morgana. Most men don't last that long." He said as he approached me. Reaching into his pants, he offered me a red silk handkerchief and I stared down at it as though it were a scorpion. Sensing my hesitation, he laughed, "It's not poisoned…" he said, "…we wouldn't stoop that low". With a grimace, I snatched it from him and began to dab at my sweat soaked temples. 

"…and besides" he added, "we don't really need drugs to get what we want, the hunger is affecting you, I could feel it in you on the dance floor, and you're not even one of us yet" "Why am I here?" I demanded, ignoring his comment.

"You're so rude, Morgana. You're normally such a passive, polite person. Why not ask my name first?"

"Why am I here?" I repeated.

"Since you won't ask, my name's Lachlan. You've been brought here as a gift."

"For whom?" I asked slowly. 

Lachlan smiled, a smooth, arrogant smile, and that feeling of panic caused my fist to tighten. "For me of course…and for my Master."

There was fear when he approached me, boring into my eyes with his own. I tried to move, but my feet were rooted to the ground. He moved so close I could smell the sweetness of his breath; feel the hunger in him; and be seduced by the waves of unnatural warmth seeping from his body. Lachlan stared at me with a desire stronger than any I'd ever seen, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I was pleased with it. His nostrils flared as he smelled me, and his tongue lashed out to lick his lips. Moving his eyes to the frantic pulse at my throat, his mouth opened and I saw the fangs slide out of their sheaths. In horror, I realized now what I was dealing with, and though I tried once again to flee, I couldn't. Something the group was doing had me rooted in my place; I could see it in their eyes.

"You see, Morgana, we have no need of drugs to keep you submissive." He said softly, taking a step back. "Undress her." He ordered to the group behind him, and moved back to give them room.

Two vampires approached me, a beautiful, slender black woman with long fingers and ebony skin, and another, the same lovely blond who'd caressed me on the dance floor. With deft fingers, they undid the corset, and tossed it onto the nearby bench. They did the same with my boots and as they pulled my pants down over my hips, they stared at the secret between my thighs in wonder.

"Oh it's beautiful, Lachlan. The master will be pleased." Said the blond, staring the ring in the hood of my clit. I'd gotten it years ago under the influence of the frat boy, and it had been my dirty little secret ever since.

My skin flushed in shame under the scrutiny of the people in the room. I'd never been comfortable naked, and I couldn't bear it from all these people. I moved to cover myself, but a third vampire moved behind me, and with effortless strength, pinned my arms behind my back. I had realized by now that they were far stronger than me, and that they'd been going easy on me when we'd been fighting. As the two women left, I was held there, naked for all to see, and squeezed my eyes shut against the shame.

"You are lovely, Morgana." Lachlan said with a note of wonder in his voice, and I felt a single finger slide down my collarbone, over my nipple, which tightened under his touch, then down over my stomach, only to flick the ring between my legs. I gasped at the contact, my skin flushed with shame and arousal. My eyes flew open as Lachlan slid his finger beneath the hood to tap at my clit; I was locked in his eyes as he lifted it to his lips and tasted me.

"I thought you only craved blood." I said uneasily.

"That's a myth," Lachlan smiled, "With an eternity of time to spend, the most basic of pleasures are often the best…food" he trailed his fingers over the vein my neck "…and sex." his hand slid over my breast and touched it knowingly.

"Why me?" was all I could say.

"Blood is sweetest when it is most alive, and people are never more alive then when they're in the throes of pleasure. You, as we all know, have never experienced true pleasure…your blood will be delicious when you finally submit to it." 

Lachlan gestured to the man holding me, and fighting him, I was dragged to what looked like a large wooden crucifix. With the help of the blond and ebony woman, my arms were bound wide on either side of my head, and I was made to wait as they summoned their master. The hissing in the room grew louder, and around me, a heavy mist began to fill the room. The mists twirled in the air, and then, they disappeared, leaving a man in their place: their so-called master. 

He was tall, at least six inches taller than Lachlan's five seven. While Lachlan was androgynous in his beauty, his master embodied everything women found temptingly unnerving about the opposite sex. This was the alpha male, huge and muscular, with a sprinkling of dark hair over a chest of smooth tanned skin. He wore jeans that fit over muscular thighs, fastened by a leather belt with a large silver buckle. On his upper body he wore nothing but twin gauntlets, one on each forearm, and a silver ankh hung from his neck. A pair of piercing dark eyes, not unlike my own, dominated his face but like the other vampires in the room, his irises bore the same silvery sheen. His hair was long and black, falling like silk over his broad, muscular shoulders, and his strong jaw bore a shadow of stubble. Lachlan had frightened me, but the terror I felt for this man was so potent I began to struggle violently against my bonds. I wanted him the instant I saw him, but I knew I was brought here for him to kill me… and the knowledge caused me to fight the leather bindings with all my strength. 

My struggles caught his attention instantly. Turning towards me, he slowly looked me over with male appreciation, and smiled a feral smile. Under his scrutiny I felt more naked than ever, and I pulled at my restraints, hoping to find a weakness in them so that I could be free to cover myself. All thoughts of escape were lost when he locked his eyes with mine. He moved towards me with the smooth grace of controlled power and lifted his hand to my neck. I stared defiantly into his eyes, thinking that he was going to kill me, but all he did was reach behind me to unbind my hair. He ran long his fingers through it, seeming to marvel at its texture, before moving his warm, strong hand to my chin. Without taking his eyes from mine, he gestured to Lachlan with his free hand.

"Give them their feast." Was all he said, and without a word, Lachlan jerked the back door of the dungeon open, letting in a stream of young men and women. 

The crowd of vampires smiled at their master, and with his gesture of approval, attacked their new playmates. Clothes were torn from beautiful bodies and within minutes the dungeon had erupted into an orgy. Female vampires were sucking eagerly at the cocks of young men, while others writhed and moaned as male vampires held them firmly in place while they fucked them in the ass, forcing them to enjoy the unwelcome invasion of their bodies. Some female vampires clutched frantically at human men, thrusting their willing flesh onto cocks all too eager to fuck them.

All the while, I was locked in the gaze of their leader, bound and helpless, with no means of escape. His grasp on my chin was gentle but firm, and as people neared orgasm all around me, their master dipped his head and kissed me. His lips slid firmly over mine, once, twice, three times, before a sharp bite on my lower lip caused them to part. Sliding his tongue between my lips, he tasted me long and hard and deep, all the while rasping his chest hairs over my sensitive nipples. By the time he released me, I was dazed and panting, my skin flushed with arousal. 

"She's delicious, Lachlan." he said, sliding the pad of his thumb over my lower lip. Irritated that I'd been so easily seduced, I bit at his finger. The master threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Do you know who I am, little one?"

"I know that you're patronizing me." I replied curtly, hissing when he slapped me across the breast.

"I am your master," he said, as though he hadn't heard me. "After tonight you'll be like, Lachlan, my lover, my warrior, and my slave." 

The thought of being his lover sent shivers of anticipation down my spine. It was the thought of being his slave, anyone's slave, which kept me afraid. "Prepare her!" he ordered, and obediently, Lachlan reached for a riding crop on the table nearby. 

"Please don't do this." I begged as Lachlan raised his arm. 

"Relax, Lassie. You'll learn to love it." and with that he brought the crop down on my body. He whipped me everywhere, my thighs, my breasts, my stomach, and legs until the welts rose on my tender skin, and my body burned with every lash. The pain stung in its intensity, and as I writhed and screamed, my eyes remained locked on those of my new master, who stayed Lachlan's hand only to slide a long finger deep inside me.

"You can fight this all you want, Morgana." He'd say, massaging my g-spot, "I don't have to use my special abilities to make you want this. I can feel you squeezing me in your desperation. But you won't come… not until I let you, and by that time, you'll already be mine." Then the lashing continued, until my skin darkened, and my body was hot from the kiss of the whip. When the master decided I was red enough, he ordered Lachlan to tie me face down over a padded bench, where Lachlan switched the crop for a paddle and worked by buttocks until they burned. Over and over he beat me, smacking me mercilessly with the paddle until the twin globes burned like fire under his ministrations. Once again the master stopped him, only this time he slid a long finger over my wetness, before inserting the length of it into my anus. No one had ever done this to me before, and I bucked, rising as I high as I could off the bench, writhing against the new sensation.

"Shhhhhh…" the master soothed, stroking his finger in and out of me as my muscles tried to repel the invader "You have been brought to me as a gift… your defiance has only persuaded me to keep you. As my slave you will give all to me. No intimacy will be spared you. Every part of you…including this…" he added another finger and continued to stroke me, amidst my gasps, "Is mine."

He pulled his fingers out and pushed Lachlan aside. With his warm hands he continued the punishments, spanking me ruthlessly as I writhed and moaned on the bench. As my flesh warmed, I could hear the people around me nearing climax. Grunts and moans grew louder as the hunger of the vampires increased in intensity. When the master was satisfied with the color of my flesh, he took up the whip and worked my back until it matched my buttocks. I was sobbing now, the arousal becoming almost painful, but I knew by the way Lachlan and the master touched me that they would never be done with me. 

With unnatural strength, they untied me from the bench only to fasten me to the ceiling with my arms high above my head. Then the master kissed me once more, his mouth claiming mine with teeth and tongue before sliding his lips down to my breasts. He sucked on them violently, massaging my nipples with his tongue before grazing the tips with his teeth. While he worked my breasts, Lachlan sank to his knees between my legs and began to tease my clit with the tip of his tongue. As my master trapped my nipples in the fiery bite of a pair of nipple clamps, Lachlan continued to lick furiously at my cunt. It was too much. As the madness increased, I could hear everyone, vampire and human alike, reach orgasm, and the smell of sex swamped my senses. While the humans reached their peak, the vampires began to feed, sinking their teeth into the necks and thighs of people too lost in the moment to realize they were dying. Everywhere hungry mouths moved to lap up the flowing blood, but I was too lost in what was being done to me to be frightened by it. Lachlan continued to eat me, while my master slid two fingers inside me from behind, mercilessly stoking my g-spot, while pulling on the chain of the nipple clamps. My body strained, searching desperately for release, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't come. 




The Little Death



"You need it badly don't you?" my master hissed in my ear, "Only I have the power to give you what you want. All you have to do is tell me you belong to me"

I fought it; fought it with every fibre of my being, but I knew that if I didn't give in, I would never make it out of that dungeon alive. I needed release, and under the hands of Lachlan, and the vampire king, I felt more alive than ever. These two men wanted me, craved me, and despite the fighting, the defiance and the frustration, they had made me feel pleasures I never dreamed existed. 

So I gave in; I surrendered.

"I am yours my master." I breathed at last, "Do with me as you will".

"Then come, my pet." The master said with a triumphant laugh, and as my body quaked violently and convulsed in the throes of my first orgasm, he sank his fangs into my neck and made me his. As he drank of my blood, Lachlan rose to his feet, licking his lips, before kissing me. The master drank long and hard and deep, until I could no longer feel the puncture wounds in my neck. I had become so weak, I thought I was dead. When the master stopped drinking, he seized Lachlan by the nape of the neck and kissed him, sliding his tongue deep into the other man's mouth, sharing the taste of my blood between them. Before I could fade away, Lachlan's nail extended and sliced the master's wrist open.

"Drink, Morgana." the master hissed, holding his bleeding wrist to my lips "…drink and be mine forever." and without hesitation I drank his blood, filling my body with his warmth until I couldn't take it any more. Having swallowed all I could manage, I pulled my lips away and hung limply against my bonds. Slowly, I felt my breathing stop… and my whole world go black. 

I awoke several hours later, shocked to find myself still alive. Thank heaven, I thought; snuggling into the soft sheets of the bed I was lying in, it was all a dream. Reaching up to rub a hand through my hair, my hand paused at my neck, feeling the steel and leather collar I now wore.

"You're awake, my pet." My master said, moving closer to me on the bed. He was naked, and his large muscled body glistened in the moonlight. 

"I didn't dream it all." I realized as he handed me a glass of blood. I drank it thirstily, licking it from my lips when he plucked the glass from my hand and set it aside. Locking my eyes with his, he pinned my arms above my head and slid between my thighs. Even as a vampire, he was far stronger than I.

"Relax." he said, possessively touching the collar around my neck, "You have an eternity to figure that out." and he slid deep inside me, stretching me; filling me; completing me. 

My feral cries of pleasure rang into the night, and in the years I've spent as the sexual plaything and warrior of my Master, I realized I'd traded a human lifetime of boredom, for an eternity of pleasure and damnation as one of the undead. 

And to this day, I don't regret it.



The Little Death



She shivered as he slowly dragged his lips wetly across the back of her neck. His teeth lightly nipped her earlobe and she felt his hot breath as he nuzzled, then whispered. 

"Hello, beautiful."

As the shock waned, she realized she didn't even know who this was. And he was already pushing her sexy-feel buttons. She sniffed coldly and told herself to be angry not aroused.

But by the time her head turned to him he was gone.

His voice came from the other side of her. Her head whipped around. If he kept this up, she'd be even dizzier.

"I hope I'm interrupting," he said with a smile. "You look like you enjoy a good interruption."

Okay, now he was just being...well, she wasn't sure what he was being. Not weird exactly, but different. Obviously hitting on her, but not with the obvious techniques. She was intrigued, but also glanced up and down his body. Trim, wide-shoulders, narrow hips, and...something sizable between his legs, she noticed with a smile. 

"I'm up here," he said laughing and casually tilting her chin in his hand.

His touch was casual, easy, and yet obviously sensual. It was the touch of a man who knows and appreciates its sensual power. He didn't just grab her face. His fingers firmly guided her jaw upward as his thumb lightly grazed her chin. His touch was hot, too. It made her almost graze his caressing thumb with her lower lip and boldly bite his skin.

But she didn't. She wouldn't have to be that wild. He'd do that for her.

She couldn't even remember how long it had been since she'd experienced a man like this. In control of himself and also capable and easy enough to let his animal passions burn through. He'd fuck her hard and fast at first, she imagined. Then spend long hours in slow sensual explorations until they fucked each other down through the social crusts and swim in the hot pools of crazy monkey sex. The thought made her nostrils flare and she took in his scent: musky, slightly salty, like a humid forest.

Her reverie shattered as she felt his tongue back on her neck and the growing-familiar whisper.

"Love your perfume," he said.

Oh, yeah, she thought. He's going to mind fuck me first, There weren't many good ones around anymore. She'd known maybe five or six in her whole sexual life. Half of them faded out in the physical real world though. She was trying to remember their names when his eyes suddenly fixed on hers and he leaned closer.

She got lost in his gaze.

"Do you have any idea how much I want to fuck you right now?"

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she froze.

He brushed his lips across hers. "Yes," he answered. "I have several ideas."

She couldn't help laughing. She couldn't help pretending to push him away until her hands touched his chest. It felt strong, wide, taut. His fingers slid up her forearm to her wrist, encircled it like a handcuff, and dragged it across his chest to his left nipple. Her fingertips brushed its hardness.

"I want yours to feel like mine now," he murmured.

And it suddenly felt like his lips were engulfing her nipples. His teeth raking them. His tongue licking intricate patterns on the very tips. 

"Magic," he whispered in her ear. "Isn't it?"

He took up her other wrist in a strong grip and began rubbing her limp fingers over her own breasts. In moments, her nipples were achingly tight. He kept her fingers cupping her breasts as he lowered his lips to her nipples. His tongue made them wet. His sucking lips made them harder. His teeth nipped and dragged. 

Her eyes closed. "Yes."

She shivered again at the first touch of his tongue there. There where she wanted his tongue right now. Wanted, needed, had to have it. Teasing long licks along her pussy lips - and then doing his own Cirque du Soleil tongue acrobatics on her clitoris. Needed that. Now. Or she might die.

Life or death cunnilingus brings out the best in both partners. The French say a woman's climax is la petite morte, the little death. She wanted that sexual fainting. Craved it. Needed.

His tongue was Fred Astaire and Miley Cyrus. Sheer creative dexterity and performance at peak. His tongue tap danced across her clit like a gild-decorated ballroom, waltzing and trotting, gliding and sliding. Then he'd lick and suck more roughly. 

"Just lie back and feel me fuck you with my mouth," he growled from between her thighs.

Her eyelashes fluttered. "Yes."

It began at ecstasy. She had no idea what the red line area of the eroti-meter was called but the needle stuck there forever it seemed. Her body went through every position and was sure invented a few new ones. He licked; she writhed. He cupped his lips around her clit, sucked lightly; she spasmed. On and on until she lost all sense of measurement, all sense of anything but the cosmic connection between her pussy and his mouth. 

Before she lost consciousness, her lips parted. "Yes." And she fell into quick blackness.

Le petite morte.