Live a Sexier Live

Tuesday, 7 August 2012

Twitter Tales (Part 1)

Recently I got heavily into writing poetry rather than prose as you can tell if you've been following my poetry blog. However, I decided to set myself the challenge of composing mini erotic stories that will fit into the 140 characters used by Twitter. Like poems, they can be written quickly but still require some thought.

I've written six of them so far and thought I'd collect them here.

The Vibrator
Parting her legs, she inserted the vibrator and slowly increased the speed, stifling a cry as multiple orgasms swept over her body in waves.

The Reader
As her eyes devoured the words on the page, her hand slipped between her legs. Soon the book lay forgotten as she brought herself to climax.

Premature Ejaculation
He was excited when she agreed to do the dirty deed. But, as she took off her top, he came on the spot. The night was over before it began.

The Guilty Wish
She lay there in the semi-darkness, eyes closed, as her husband climbed on top of her. Guiltily she wished it was someone else fucking her.

The Voyeur
Walking in a wood he discovered a couple fucking in a clearing. Unnoticed, he took out his cock and began to play. Once he had cum, he went.

The Itch
She walked into the club, saw him and took him home; fucked his brains out then kicked him out. No regrets: just an itch needing scratching.

Saturday, 30 June 2012

Venus: My Mistress In Leather and Lace

I enter the room and get undressed, neatly folding my clothes and placing them in the corner. I remember the first time I was here; how angry my Mistress was when I just tossed my clothes to one side. Now I am more careful.

Once undressed I stand in front of her, my Venus: my Mistress in leather and lace. Hands on head, eyes straight ahead, and legs apart. I am so nervous: my heart beats so fast. Will I be getting dressed and leaving? Will I stay and serve her? I stand, exposed, waiting for her decision: her approval.

She walks around me, eyes looking me over. The occasional touch as she runs a finger over me, probing, testing. Eventually she gives a nod, as if satisfied, and walks over to a low unit at the side of the room. She returns holding a collar and dog leash. She orders me to turn round then places the collar around my neck and attaches the leash.

"Down on the ground! All fours! Now!"

She doesn’t shout, but the tone of command is so strong that, almost without thinking about it, I kneel, placing my hands out in front of me. I feel the pull of the leash bringing me to my Mistress’s side; calling me to heel.

Then, my Mistress begins to walk around the room.

I feel the leash pull against the collar and I begin to crawl; tight into her side, feeling the carpet under my hands and knees, her leg brushing against my side. At first I feel a sense of anticlimax; this is not what I expected, I feel awkward and a little silly. My limbs protest at the unusual mode of moving; my knees feeling the burn of the carpet.

But still I follow my Mistress: I exist to serve my Venus.

Eventually she stops in front of a high back chair and, with a quick yank on the leash, brings me to a halt. She unclasps the lead, folding it in her hand, leaving me on all fours. She walks around me again, letting the leash trail across my body, down my back and over my buttocks.

“Stand up, hands on head.” She commands, the order accompanied by a light slap across my rump with the leash.

I quickly obey.

She sits down in the chair in front of me, legs crossed, and gazes at me with a sardonic smile on her face. Then, slowly, she runs one leather encased foot up the inside of my leg until the toe of her boot is nestled against my balls.

I feel so horribly exposed with her foot against my groin, and yet the fear itself is arousing: it would take so very little for her to hurt me. I love her and trust that she would never cause me more pain than I can handle but part of me still wants to flinch at her touch.

She smiles, as if aware of the conflict that runs through me, then she stands and speaks, “Look at me!”

For the first time since I have entered the room I let my eyes meet her own. Her pupils have dilated making her eyes appear almost black. She is so beautiful and I feel my arousal grow.

Softly now, she speaks again, running her hands over herself, “Look at my body. Worship me with your eyes.”

I let my gaze wander over her body; from the mounds of her breasts, pale against the dark leather of her Basque; down past the lacy panties to the thigh high soft leather boots that encase her legs. I watch, almost hypnotised, as she slowly removes her panties to reveal the trimmed triangle of her sex.

She sits down and parts her legs, pushing her body forward so that she is on the edge of her seat. Leaning back, she runs her hands sensuously over her inner thigh, watching my reaction. Finally, she speaks, “Kneel before me!”

I fall to my knees between her legs and gaze at her moist pussy. Part of me is desperate to place my mouth between her legs, my tongue between her swollen lips, to worship her sex with kisses. However, I am careful not to make the least little contact with her body. I know that if I took such a liberty then our time together would be over. She'd be kind, but I would still have to leave. Oh, we'd talk and she'd explain the rules again, but I'd still have to wait, complete more tasks, prove my obedience before I could see her again. So I resist temptation.

After what seems an age she speaks, “I want to watch you play with yourself. You may touch yourself but do not ejaculate. Begin!”

I spread my knees apart, revealing my semi erect penis. I start to run my hand along the shaft, barely making contact. Nevertheless my cock begin to harden and I slightly increase the pressure until I feel the skin sliding over the firmness underneath. As my erection grows I grasp myself firmly, my hand moving more quickly, until I am nearly at the point of climax.

Briefly I consider continuing, letting myself go, but my Mistress has trained me too well. Her infinite patience has slowly taught me the meaning of obedience. I cannot stop until she tells me: I mustn't cum until ordered. I slow the pace and pressure until, once again, I am barely caressing myself. I feel the orgasm begin to subside until it just the faintest sensation deep within.

When I am sure that I am safe, that I won't accidentally fail, I increase the speed. Slowly I work my cock until, again, I am almost overwhelmed by the need to cum, then I let the need almost fade away before starting again.

How many emails, how many texts has my Mistress sent me, schooling me in this discipline until I could control myself? Then came the day when she sent that message, “Today you may ejaculate. Remember to say ‘Thank you Mistress!’ as you cum.” Now that training comes to fruition as I bring myself almost the point of climax. Again and again I reach the point where I think I must cum then until my balls ache with the need for release.

“Stop! Stand up! Come here!” She speaks quietly but there is anger in her tone.

Inwardly I flinch, wondering what I have done wrong, but I obey her command, moving forward until I stand before her.

“What's this?” she asks, reaching forward and touching the tip of my penis. She withdraws her hand and there is a small amount of pre-cum on her finger. “You really are a disgusting slave!” A sneer crosses her face; “Kneel!” She holds out her fingers with the offending substance; “Lick them clean.”

I do as she commands; taking the offered fingers in my mouth and sucking them, running my tongue across them until my Mistress is satisfied.

She removes her fingers and wipes them across my chest. “Of course, you will have to be punished,” she says with just a small amount of satisfaction. “Over to the bed. Now!”

I hurry to the bed and stand there, waiting. I don't know what my punishment will be but I am grateful she had not dismissed me: that alone would be a punishment I couldn’t bear.

My Mistress walks behind me and reaches into the bedside cabinet, removing a black velvet glove. As I watch She pulls the glove onto her left hand before reaching into the cabinet again and taking out a riding crop.

“Lie down!” she orders.

I quickly obey, lying face down, raising my ass to receive my punishment.

“Oh no,” she says with just a hint of amusement. “That would be too easy. On your back!”

I turn over quickly and lay there with my hands by my sides, feeling myself tremble with anticipation as my Mistress slowly gets onto the bed and straddles me. I look upwards to see her delicious ass and pussy descend towards my face. I half hope that she will continue all the way until I can taste her, although I cannot see how that would be a punishment.

To my disappointment, she stops inches away from my face and settles herself, making herself comfortable. I am left gazing up at the pale lips of her labia and the small hood of her clitoris, framed by a dark mass of pubic hair. The scent of her sex in my nostrils both arouses and frustrates me.

“Right! You will not cum, move, or make any noise. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.” I respond meekly.

“If I am satisfied with how you have taken your punishment I will allow you one request.” her tone is almost kindly.

I feel my Mistress's gloved fingers briefly caress the shaft of my penis before she takes me between finger and thumb, slowly proceeding to wank me. I feel the pressure of orgasm building low down in my body but, just when I think I must disgrace myself, my Mistress removes her hand.

Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain as she brings the riding crop down smartly on my cock. My body jerks at the surprise but I quickly hold myself still, silencing the cry that almost burst from my lips. Did my Mistress notice?

If she did, she says nothing but places her gloved fingers around my shaft and starts again. Twice, three times, four, five and then a final time she uses the riding crop on me, playing with me between each blow until I am caught between the extremes of pain and pleasure.

Finally she stops. “Well done. I am pleased.” she says at last. “And what would my slave ask of me?”

“Please Mistress,” I ask nervously, “can I lick you out?”

There is silence and I think I have gone too far, then I hear her laugh, “You want to put your tongue inside me?”

“Yes please Mistress.” I beg.

“Very well, close your eyes.”

I do as I am asked and wait. I feel the heat of my Mistress's body coming closer and anticipate the taste of her sweet sex. Moments later her flesh is pressed against me but, instead of her pussy, my tongue encounters the puckered skin of her anus. In my surprise my body must have reacted because my Mistress gives a wicked laugh.

“My poor slave,” she whispers sympathetically, “you didn't really expect me to give you everything you wanted did you? Now lick me!”

I do as she commands, driving my tongue into her, feeling the wrinkled flesh of that little hole part slightly under the pressure. I can smell the scent of her soap overlaid with the stronger scent of her arousal. Without thinking I lift my hands to caress her thighs and buttocks as I would any other woman in that position.

But Venus isn’t any other woman.

I hear the sharp command, “No!” and the sharper pain of the riding crop as it is brought down smartly on my groin making me start with surprise and pain. I quickly realise what I have done and my arms return to my side, but it is too late.

Venus quickly slides off the bed and turns on me with a look of anger on her face, “You know the rules: you do not touch your mistress without permission.”

“I’m sorry Mistress, I forgot.” Even to me the excuse sounds pathetic.

My Mistress ignores my words; just sighs and shakes her head as if in despair; “I can’t look at you at the moment. Go stand in the corner: hands on head.”

I pick myself up off the bed and do as she commands. The session had been going well: why did I ruined it with such a simple mistake? As I stand there I hear the door go and presume my Mistress has left the room. Part of me wants to turn around, to check, but I resist the temptation; I’m in enough trouble as it is.

It feels like I have been stood there for hours although, in reality, it has probably been a few minutes when I hear the door go again and the sound of footsteps crossing the floor. Seconds later I feel fingers running down my spine and a gentle kiss on my neck. Then her breasts are pressed against my back while her hand snakes around me and begins playing with my nipple.

“My poor slave,” a voice whispers in my ear, “I sometime forget how new you are. You’ve done well, very well. I think you need some encouragement.” Now her hand descends until she can caress my cock, swiftly bringing it back to hardness.

“You know,” she says softly, “sometimes the thrill of bending someone completely to my will gets me so horny.”

I feel my orgasm starting to build low in my stomach as my mistress continues to tease me with her hand and words.

“And sometimes, if I’m really turned on, I like to let my sub service me. I like to lie back and let them thrust themselves into me until I cum.”

Desperately I try to control myself as my Mistress continues to whisper seductively in my ear, her fingers playing lightly with the shaft of my erection.

“Would you like that?” She whispers. “Would you like to fuck me?”

My voice emerges as a croak, “Yes Mistress.”

Whether I would be of any use is another question: my legs have already started shaking as I attempt to hold back the climax. My Mistress hasn’t given me permission to cum yet and I daren’t break another rule, but if she did ask me to fuck her I know I wouldn’t last long.

My Mistress’ voice breaks into my revere, “Oh my poor little sub, I don’t think you are ready for that honour yet. I think you will need more training, don’t you?”

“Yes Mistress.” I say, feeling dejected.

She removes her hand from my shaft and takes a step back before turning me to face her. Her tone is soft and gentle but her words are harsh, “Okay, get dressed and leave. I’ll email you some instructions soon, until then you are not to touch yourself. Understand?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and watch as my Mistress leaves the room before getting dressed. I finish and adjust my clothing before making my way to the front door. I hope she’ll be there to say goodbye but the hallway is empty. I let myself out, reluctantly closing the door, hearing the lock click shut behind me. All I can hope for now is that her email arrives soon but, knowing her, it may be a while.

I love my Venus: my Mistress in leather and lace, but sometimes she’s a bitch.