darkness

Obsidian

My obsidian soul

My hidden places

And murky corners

All within

Dark and needy

Loud and greedy

A taste for sin

In those corners

Opaque and bleak

He can see

The light within

Despite the sin

Taking all of me

As I am

Without fear

Without shame

He knows my heart

He knows my name

As do I…

I am his

He is mine

unmasked

(Photo credit: Pinterest)

Stay Tuned…

A few weeks ago, my dear friend and fellow blogger, the lovely Lady G, recommended a collaboration, of sorts. She commented that due to our similar sultry subject matter, perhaps Braeden Michaels and I should collaborate on something together.

As the resident naughty girl of my neighborhood, I took that suggestion as an open invitation to introduce myself to Braeden, a most talented and mysterious gentleman. He writes with such depth and darkness. Since our demons play so well together, we instantly connected and came up with a little something we think you may like.

Stay tuned…it’s coming.

T and B

 

No Turning Back

It was the summer of 2014 and I was on a journey to sexual freedom and enlightenment. I’d always been adventurous, but my tastes were evolving. I traveled this winding and treacherous road at full speed. The experience was exhilarating and terrifying. I could have taken a turn onto a safer road, or I could have slowed my speed.  Instead, I went faster. There was a deep, insatiable need to go further into the abyss.

And the sadist was happy to take me there. Into the darkness.

We spoke everyday after our first encounter. Sometimes we would talk for hours. Other days we would have brief chats. We were becoming close. I began to understand more about him and he learned more and more about me. He was in my head. I longed to see him again.  We made plans a couple of times, but life got in the way.

One Sunday morning I received a text, “Come to me. Today.”

I was surprised. I replied, “Where?”

“I will send you the info as soon as I check into the hotel.  I will see you around 4:00.  It will be close to where you are.  Make arrangements to stay over, if possible.”

That was a challenge.  With three kids, almost impossible.

I sent a response, “I will do my best to stay as long as I can. I am excited to see you…and a little scared.”

His response, “Don’t be scared. Same rules apply as last time with safewords. Text me when you have made arrangements.”

I called my babysitter and came up with a reason to be gone for several hours.  I knew an overnight was out of the question.  She agreed to come over at 3:00. I texted to let him know. I finished up everything I needed to do for the week (my typical Sunday routine) and readied myself for another session with the sadist.

At 3:30 I received a text, “Room 432, Marriott.  Be here by 4:15”

I felt nervous and yet relaxed as I drove to meet him.  I didn’t know what to expect from our second session, but I didn’t feel any real trepidation about meeting him again. I pulled into the parking garage and made my way up to his room.  I was wearing a black and white, body-hugging dress and strappy wedge sandals.  My skin was tan from a recent visit to the beach and I’d just had my hair highlighted. I’d straightened it, to change things up. I approached the room and as I knocked, he opened the door and snatched me into the room.

He stood behind me, pressing my face into the wall. His voice was strong and assertive, “I said, 4:15, slut.  It’s 4:17.  Turn around and face me.”

I peeled my face from the wall and faced him.  He looked agitated. I felt a sense of panic.  My voice was wobbly as I began to apologize, “I am sor..”

And before I could say the last syllable, I felt the sting of his open hand on my cheek.  I was shocked. I’d never been slapped in the face. And before I could mutter another word, he slapped my face again. Tears began streaming down my face as I tried to regain my composure.  My mind raced and I wanted to say my safeword, but I felt paralyzed by fear.

“Your tears are what I want. It’s so fucking sexy. Cry for me. Cry more for me.”

I was shaking in my skin, as I didn’t know what would come next.  I finally managed to verbalize a sentence and said, “I put no hitting in the face on my questionnaire. Why did you hit me like that?”

And holding my tear-stained face he looked into my eyes and grinned at me.  “You are so beautiful when you let yourself go. When you allow yourself to be vulnerable.”

I didn’t care what he thought because he violated my limits. “But I said not to hit me in the face. Please don’t do that again.”

He just smiled at me as he led me to the bed.  I questioned whether or not to go any further. I was so shaken by what had just happened that I did feel the trust I’d felt during our first meeting.  He could sense that I was on the brink of leaving.

“I know I should not have done that, and I sincerely apologize, Tess.  Your tears arouse me and I became too excited when I saw you.  I didn’t want to wait for you to give them to me. I wanted them now. Please forgive me.”

It seemed like a sincere apology so I reluctantly decided to stay.  He slowly undressed me, taking his time as he purposefully peeled off every piece of my clothing. He pulled my hair back as he removed my earrings and necklace. “I have some other ‘jewelry’ to put on you, Beautiful”  I stood naked in front of him and as he placed silver nipple clamps on my nipples. There was an adorned chain that connected them, and he gave it a tug to make sure it was secure.  He had me lie down on the bed placing the cuffs on my wrists, looping red silk rope through to tie my wrists to my ankles. “Open your legs wide and bend your knees up, so I can secure your ankle to your wrist.” The silk rope was soft on my skin and I was bound, open and exposed.  He tugged on the chain as he massaged my clit with the violet wand and again, I was not allowed to orgasm.  I held on for as long as I could and then begged for release.  He finally allowed me to cum.

He blindfolded me and I heard him rummaging through his bag for something.  Not being able to see what was coming added to the excitement.  Soon, I felt the sting of the flogger across my stomach as struck me and then tugged on the clamps. I was helpless and under his control when I heard a faint knock at the door. I panicked, “Who is that at the door? Cover me up please.”

I heard him snicker as he said, “There’s no need to cover you.  The fun is just getting started.”

I heard the door open and could tell someone had walked into the room.  Still blindfolded, I could not make out who it was.  Was it a man? A woman? Why were they here? I was naked, bound, blindfolded and helpless.  I didn’t hear any voices, but I heard what sounded like a wrapper being opened.

“Hurry up and get the condom on.  Fuck the hell out of her.  She wants it rough. She will love your big cock”

I felt every part of my being, freeze.  I was paralyzed with terror. What was happening?  I struggled to find my voice…to scream my safeword…and I couldn’t say anything.  I just lay there, motionless as I felt him push himself inside me.  I then felt someone sit on the bed beside me as I was being taken. I recognized the cologne, it was the sadist. “On the questionnaire, you expressed a real interest in being fucked by a stranger, didn’t you?” his voice was deep and breathy.  “Answer me, now.”

My mind raced as I began doing a mental review of all of my answers.  And it was true. I did have a stranger fantasy.  I managed to find my words, “Yes. I did.”

He moved in closer, hissing in my ear. “Indeed, you did. How does it feel to be fucked by a stranger, Tess? Is it what you wanted? Do you feel scared? Does it feel perverse? How does his cock feel? Talk to me.”

And with that, the terror of the situation began to dissolve.  It was true…I wanted to be taken by a stranger.  I wanted to feel fear.  “Please remove the blindfold and I will tell you everything.”

He pulled the blindfold away and I laid eyes on the man fucking me.  He was younger than I, in his late 20’s.  By his haircut and physique, he seemed military.  We stared into each others eyes as he sank into my wetness.  The sadist was growing impatient, “Talk. I want to know what you are thinking.”

My voice was sultry as I moaned with pleasure. “He feels good.  His cock fills me and I love that I don’t even know his name.  I am tied and helpless and he keeps fucking me as you watch us.”

He seemed pleased with my answer as he quipped at the young stranger, “Fuck her harder. I want to hear her scream.”

The stranger quickened his pace as he pushed further into me. I gasped as he pulled my hips into his, going even deeper. I was close to the edge and I felt the sadist’s hand on my throat.  His grip was strong and I felt myself fading…almost losing consciousness as he released his hold on me and pulled on the nipple clamps.  I moaned from the pain and he pulled again, and again.  The stranger was aroused by my sounds and in a matter of minutes we both exploded.

“You fucked her well.  Now get dressed and leave.” the sadist’s tone was direct.  The young man quickly dressed and walked out.  The sadist turned to me, “How are you, Tess?”

“I’m okay. I have finally calmed down a little, but that was beyond terrifying. Who was he?” I asked.

The sadist smiled and said, “He is someone who owes me a favor.  He is one of my students, in the physician’s assistant program. I knew you’d enjoy him.”

That was a relief. He wasn’t a total stranger and everything was safe. I said, “I did enjoy him, but my legs and wrists are beginning to hurt. Could you please loosen the ropes?” I knew it was a risk, asking him to untie me, but I was really sore. And if he didn’t, I was at the point of saying my safeword.

“Sure. I will loosen them.  In fact, I will take them off.  And then I am going to have my way with you, slut.” He untied me and had me roll over onto my stomach.  From under his pillow he retrieved that huge dildo he’d used on me the first time. “Remember this?” he grinned.

I tensed up as I didn’t know if I could withstand that in addition to what I’d just experienced.  “Yes. How could I forget?” I answered.

“I want to make sure you don’t forget. Open your legs.” I noticed that he had not used any lube, like he did before. I braced myself for the pain.  Instead of putting it in my ass, he pushed into my sore cunt. Pushing it all in with one stroke.  I screamed from the pain and the pleasure.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” he growled as he began to finger my ass.  “I am going to fuck your ass with my cock this time and you will take it until I tell you otherwise.  Got it? Both of your holes will be filled until you can’t take any more.  Don’t beg me to stop because I know how badly you want this.”

He was right. I wanted it all.  I wanted the pain. The torture.  The pleasure.  I wanted him to take it all from me.  The feeling was so intense that I cannot recall when or how we finished.  I think I may have passed out for a minute.  When I came to my senses again, my entire body was shaking and began to weep. It was too much to keep bottled up. I let it go again. Everything. I let it all go.

He held me in a warm embrace until I stopped shaking and came back to my center. I will never understand how an acutely intense sexual experience can purge so much from a person.  After I settled down, I felt energized and free.  I began to recognize that I released emotional pain when I experienced physical pain.  It was beautiful and powerful.

I didn’t linger there, as I needed to get home.  My mind was racing with questions, but I no longer felt confused by my feelings. Once again, I recognized who I was. Walking out of that room, I decided it was the last time I would ever see him. He served his purpose by helping me remove the mask.

And I have never looked back.

walking-away

(Photo credit, Pinterest)

 

 

The “M” Word

I awoke to the sound of a loud knock at the door. Room service. He had ordered enough food for five people and for a moment, I wondered if he planned to return.  But I knew he wouldn’t.  He was giving me space to process.

After what I’d experienced the night before, I should have been starving, almost ravenous.  But I wasn’t that hungry.  I felt sated…in a strange sort of way.  I noshed for a bit on the plates before me and then I ventured into the bathroom for a shower.

I stood there and looked in the mirror and outwardly, I didn’t really look any different. I felt different. I felt more aware. I was beginning to notice an outline of a small bruise on my neck when I noticed something on the counter by the sink. He had left me a note: “You will need to use ointment where you were punctured. After you shower, wipe down the areas with alcohol and use this Neosporin.  Do it for today and all will be well by tomorrow.”

He’d left me some alcohol wipes and packets of Neosporin.  I’d not even looked at my feet.  I sat on the side of the tub and examined them closely.  There were tiny scabs where the needles had been, but didn’t hurt when I touched them.  I got into the shower and began reflecting on the evening.  As I washed my body I was reminded of all that we did.  We were together for 8 hours.

Looking back, I reflected on some of the other things we did that I didn’t share in the other post.  He seemed to understand my need for fear, my need to feel vulnerable.  Prior to moving to the bedroom, he’d outlined my form with a large hunting knife.  He never broke the skin, but I could feel the point of the knife moving across my body…the cold steel again my warm flesh.  I know this sounds strange to many people, but I loved the feel.  It is not that I wanted to be cut, or hurt.  I liked the sensation of being that vulnerable. I liked that we were doing something taboo and dangerous.  I felt a level of arousal I’d never felt before.

I was lost in thought as shampoo began running in my eyes, snapping me back to reality.  I finished up my shower and got dressed.  Putting on my clothes, I remembered how his hands felt, how his body felt, how his breath felt in my ear, coaxing me, taunting me, reassuring me.  I put my hand on my neck and I was reminded of the moments he held me by the throat and how I loved that feeling. Had I always been this way?  Had this need for darkness been lying dormant in the recesses of my obsidian soul?

On the drive home I received a text from him, “Don’t forget. Text me when you get home. Be safe.” I didn’t know what to respond, or how to respond, or if I wanted to respond.  I drove in silence. No radio. No distraction other than the flood of thoughts vying for attention in my head.  When I pulled in to the garage, I instinctively texted him. “I am home.”

His reply, “Good.  I want you to send me an email of your thoughts about what we experienced.  You have until midnight to get it to me.  Be transparent. ”

I was a bit put off by this request, but I decided to do it.  Maybe writing it out will give me more perspective.  So I wrote him a missive from my vantage point and sent it to him.  He responded with his thoughts and a question, “when can I see you again?”

I didn’t answer.  I went to bed that night, sore and pensive.  I liked how I felt, but I was conflicted…it’s not “normal” to like pain.  It’s not “normal” to play with knives and needles.  It’s not “normal” to feel this way.  So I got up and emailed him.

“I don’t know when. I don’t even know if. I am trying to figure out who I am in all of this.”

And I went to sleep. Early in the morning I heard my phone ding.  I’d received an email…from him.

“You now know exactly who you are.  For once in your life, you know yourself.”  Initially I didn’t see it, but it was a new email, not a response.

The subject line consisted of one word, “Masochist

I’d been revealed.  He saw beneath the mask.  He knew who  I was.

And so did I.

the-mask

 

Desire

Today is just one of those days…

Nothing spectacular happened.  Nothing horrible happened.  Work is work.  It was filled with a nice blend of meaningless drama and monotony.  The most exciting part of the day was when someone’s popcorn caught fire in the microwave.  But that was fleeting…however, the smell lingered.

Today, I swam in the quagmire…treading water in a bottomless pool of menial tasks and my thoughts drifted to a very dark, very decadent place.  All I could think about was hot, dirty, rough, consuming sex.  The kind of sex where you feel it in your bones the next day…with every step.

I want it.  I need it.  I need my One to fuck me senseless.  I need to be taken.  Have him use my body for his pleasure.  I want to cum so much that out sheets are saturated.  I want to be so parched from the intensity that I can barely swallow and the only thing to quench my thirst is his sweet seed.  And after he fills my void, he will kiss me on the forehead and tell me I am his “good girl.”

I am such a naughty girl to crave such lust, but I can’t help it. My desire is overwhelming. I will kneel before him and beg for it. I will look up to him from my place below with wanton eyes.  And if I am lucky…he will give it to me.

And then I will write about every delicious detail, so I can relive it and share it with you.

knelt

Photo credit Pinterest

View From the Top…

I’ve been a bad, bad girl.

For most of my life.  At least for the last 30 years.

There have been so many (so very many) tantalizing trysts in my past, that I find myself forgetting about some of them.  And then, all of the sudden, I am transported back to a different time and place.

Just like that.

During lunch today, I drove through downtown.  My city is rather small and the downtown area is less than impressive, although they do try to “revitalize” it about every ten years.  The sun was shining.  The air was crisp. it was a gorgeous fall day.  I breathed in the air and began to reminisce about some of the fun times I’d had downtown. Then my jaunt downtown turned into a trip down memory lane.

It was the summer of 1991.  I was working in a pharmacy while attending college.  I had more suitors than I could keep track of.  A few remnant boyfriends from high school.  A few older gents, some married, that I saw from time to time.  A handful of college guys that wanted more than a study date.  Life was good.  I could take my pick any day of the week. I was never without a date, if I wanted one.

And then there was Vernon.  Yes…his name was Vernon.  He sat next to me in my Microeconomics class.  He was attractive and smart…and a bit cocky.  He wore a tie to class each and every day…even in the hot Southern summer.  He dressed better than the professor.  He set his sights on me and was relentless in his pursuit.

I declined his offer to “study” together.  I declined his offer for coffee.  I declined his offer for lunch.  But he was not deterred.  He was a nice guy, and for me…that was the issue.  I didn’t want a “nice” guy.  I wanted the bad boy…or better yet, the bad man.  And Vernon wasn’t my type.  But finally, one day I decided to take him up on coffee.  I was shocked  because we really hit it off.  His anal-retentive ways blended well with my fly-by-the-seat of my g-string ways.  His uptight demeanor was a nice complement to my free-spirited attitude.

We went out on a few dates and he was the perfect gentleman.  (And always dressed like he was on his way to a corporate meeting)  Things progressed at a snail’s pace and I found myself becoming bored with him.  I had my “exit speech” planned and was about to let him down easy, when I saw a glimmer of hope.  He was driving and looked over at me with a devious smile.

“Let’s take a drive.” he said.  There was a confidence in his voice that was sexy.  He then pulled in behind a Sherwin Williams paint store.  He worked there.  We parked in a place that could not be seen from the road and he began kissing me.  His tie came off.  And then my shirt.  All of my clothes.  All of his clothes.  We fucked on the trunk of his car and he wasn’t that bad.  The guy had some chops.  I could tell I was more experienced than he, but I still had a good time.

We fucked often, usually in his car or on his car.  And then one evening, after dining downtown, we took a drive up a winding parking garage at the Bank of America building.  Although I enjoyed our time together, I was becoming bored with our typical routine.  He wanted us to stay in the car, since we were on top of the parking garage, in plain sight.  I decided to take control of the scenario and insisted we get out of the car.  We put a blanket down on the parking spot beside us.  I pulled his pants off and sucked him right there in the open.  I told him to lie down on the blanket.  I wanted to control him.  I felt the beast inside me clawing to come out.

Channeling my inner Domme, I mounted his cock and fucked him as if he were my sex slave.  I paid no mind to his needs. I rode him furiously.  Ramming my body with his body with each movement.  Harder and harder.  I was high on the adrenaline.  I was high on making him…the anal-retentive, uptight Vernon…my bitch.  I used him for my pleasure.  When I felt he was close to orgasm, I would stop.  I wasn’t finished with him and didn’t want him to cum until I was ready.  I honestly cannot even remember if he said anything, or protested when I made him wait.  But I didn’t care.  He was mine.  His cock was there for my pleasure.

My knees were getting sore, as the blanket had moved exposing my skin to the bare concrete.  I quickened my pace and we came together.  In the aftermath I noticed abrasions on both my knees from our intense session.  I didn’t care. The inner beast craved pleasure and nothing kept me from my goal.  Looking back, I was in a very dark place.  If ever I was a sadist, it was then.

We were quiet on the drive home.  The beast began to retreat and I morphed back into myself again.  We kissed goodnight.  After I got home, I took a shower and tended to my poor bruised knees.  I felt a sense of pride from my battle scars.  It represented a different version of me…one I’d yet to embrace.  I liked it.

The next day, Vernon wasn’t in class.  He never missed class.  NEVER.  I worried that something was wrong.  On a break between classes I used the phone in the library and called him.  There was no answer.  Later that day, I called his work and they told me he wasn’t there…he was in the hospital.  WHAT???  Had he been in a wreck on the way home?  What happened to Vernon?

His co-worker told me which hospital and I called his room.  Vernon answered.

“Hey.  What’s wrong?  Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m okay.  Just had a tear from last night.”

I was puzzled.  A tear?  What could he have “torn”?  After all, I was the one with the bloody knees.

He whispered into the phone so the patient in the other bed couldn’t hear him, “You fucked me too hard last night.   You split me and I am in so much pain, I can’t pee.  They have me on pain medicine.  They are sending me home soon and said I will be okay in a couple of days.  But we can’t do that again”

I didn’t know what to say. I was shocked and embarrassed.  I apologized and then tried to relive the evening in my mind.  As I reviewed it, I remembered hearing him moan.  I remembered hearing him beg me to stop. I was so consumed with lust.  So consumed with my pleasure, that I didn’t care.

Our relationship fizzled immediately afterwards.  I think he was a bit “gun-shy” after that incident.  I felt terrible.  I would never want to put anyone in the hospital.  I resolved to never venture into “Domme-mode” ever again.  Then, a few weeks later…a fellow classmate and I were chatting, when she said, “He’s such an asshole.  Plays like he is all about business, like he’s a nice guy.  He is all about who he can screw.”

I was surprised that anyone would ever say anything like that about the super straight, squeaky clean Vernon, I knew.  She went on to say, “He pretends to be so nice, but treats women like shit. He begged me to go out with him and about 3 dates into it, he got forceful with me.  When I broke up with him, he talked about me terribly.  Such a jerk.”

And just like that…I no longer felt bad for injuring him.

In fact, I laughed out loud.  And today, as I drove past that parking garage, I laughed again.  Poor Vernon.

Wonder if he still wears a tie everyday?

on top

 

 

Wicked Wednesdays with Tess, Presents…Diabolically Yours

(Due to some unforeseen technical issues, I am wrapping up the Wicked Wednesday Series, a little late.  But I hope you find this worth the wait. Presenting a tale from my own darkside…the devil is in the details.  Hope you enjoy!)

The Halloween season always brought him to mind. It had been years since they’d been together. Regardless of space and time, he left an indelible mark on her psyche. This man, stirred her to the core unlike anyone else. And on this dark and desolate evening, she pined for him.

He was an enigma and almost seemed as if he was not of this world. Larger than life. There was a darkness within him that drew her in. It engulfed her like the flames and embers from hell itself. The burn….the wonderful slow burn.

I wonder where he is now, she thought to herself. And in the same breath, she dismissed the thought as a lost cause. He had moved far away and reconnecting would be difficult. For all she knew…he was married with kids and a lovely wife, living in the suburbs…blending in with the rest of society.

But again…this was him. He wasn’t the type to “blend in” anywhere. He was a different breed of man and not the type to settle down. She knew that type of personality well….as she found herself still single. She could never find anyone who understood and embraced her restless spirit.

After reliving their tumultuous affair in her mind, she decided to look him up online. It only took a few minutes and she found him. He was not married with kids. And he was not halfway across the country. He was less than an hour away. Her stomach stirred….her heart raced. What to do? Do I contact him…she thought. Do I leave it alone?

And before she knew it, her phone rang. There was no number, it simply read “unknown” and she surmised it was likely a telemarketer, as she had been bombarded with them since changing her number. After a few seconds, she noticed the caller left a voicemail message. And she also noticed it was after 10:00 pm…not a typical time for such calls.

She played the voicemail and immediately recognized the voice. It was dark and brooding. It was HIM! It had been less than fifteen minutes since she’d looked him up. Her cell number was new. How could he have found her so quickly? How did he know? Was he thinking of her too? It just seemed weird and predestined.

His message was short, “It’s me. You know who I am. I was just thinking of you and would love to talk. Call me.” Just hearing his voice gave her butterflies. She composed herself and dialed his number.

“Hello, Elise. I am happy you called.”

“Hello, Jude. How are you?” she asked

“Better now. I’ve been thinking of you a lot lately. I would love to see you. When can we meet?” he was direct and to-the-point, as always.

Taken aback and burning with excitement, she managed to stutter her response, “I am free tomorrow, if you are?”

He paused for a few seconds, “That works, but I was thinking about now.”

She looked around at the disarray in her house. She had been working long hours all week and hadn’t tidied up at all. There’s no way she could have him over, but she found herself saying, “Okay. Good”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in an hour.” And before she could respond, he hung up the call. Does he even know where she lives? She attempted to call him back and the number he gave her was not valid. What the hell?

She got herself ready. She recalled what he liked her to wear…corsets. She fumbled through her lingere chest and found the perfect one. It was black lace with silver accents. It laced up in the back. She shimmied herself into it, tying it as tightly as she could. She looked at herself in the mirrot. “wow…i’ve still got it” she muttered. She drew closer to her reflection. Her eyes looked funny. The hazel/green color looked darker. Before she could look any longer, her phone rang.

“Is this Elise?” it was a woman’s voice on the line.

“Yes, it is. Who is this?” she asked. After all it was almost 11:00 pm.

“I am Jude’s driver. I am in route to pick you up. Are you ready?”

“Yes, well almost. I will be in a few minutes.” and the phone went silent.

Moments later, she heard a knock at the door. Standing there was a tall blond woman wearing a tight black turtleneck sweater, black skirt and boots. She was gorgeous. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail and her skin was as white as porcelain. Her eyes were dark and her lips were red.

She grabbed her keys, purse and phone and followed his driver.

The driver ushered her into a large black SUV. She felt the tightness of the corset through her black dress. Her stilettos looked amazing with the dress. She felt sexy in her clothes. She wondered if he would approve.

And just then, her phone rang. It was him.

“Did Tasha pick you up?” he asked.

“Yes. You must be very important to have your own driver.” she jeered.

He laughed and said, “I will see you soon, Elise.”

Elise had no idea where she was going. The driver mentioned the location, but it was not anywhere that Elise recognized. They crossed over a river on a old rickety bridge. It rattled and swayed as they made their way to the other side.

“That’s it up ahead.” Tasha said.

There was a stone wall around the property and the wrought iron gate squeaked as it opened for them to pass through. The house was enormous. It looked like a medieval castle, or a royal estate. She was puzzled. She didn’t recall him being wealthy. The last time they saw each other, he lived in a loft apartment on the river.

“What kind of work does Jude do?” she asked the driver.

Tasha replied, “He’s into a lot of different things. He’s very good at what he does.”

And just like that, she pulled into the side garage. He was standing there to greet her.

“Hello, Elise.” he held out his hand and helped her out of the vehicle. He was still as handsome as before.  He was wearing all black also.  His physique was perfect.  She could tell by the way he looked at her that he liked what he saw. “It’s been a long time. You look great. Just as I remembered. Come with me, I’ll show you in.”

They entered the large dining room. The table was huge and could easily seat 40 or more. There was a place set for the two of them. He guided her over to her place and pushed her chair to the table.

“I thought we would have a light meal as we catch up.”

She was speechless. It was almost too much. The house…no the mansion was gorgeous…the stuff of celebrities. The meal before them looked to be gourmet. And he was as striking as always. Tall. Dark. Brooding. He hadn’t changed at all. In fact, he looked like he had aged in reverse.

They ate as they caught up on the last 10 years. He spoke of his new business and how he been very fortunate to land a couple of profitable deals that lead to his success. She told him about finishing her Masters degree and opening up a counseling center to help troubled children. They chatted on an on, picking right up where they left off. The chemistry between them felt more intense than before.

“Were you surprised to hear from me tonight?”

She smiled shyly, “Yes and no. I was actually looking you up online when you called me. How did you get my number?”

He grinned, “I have my ways.”

“How did you know where I live? You’re not a stalker are you?” she joked.

“No I am not a stalker.” His tone was a bit different. He moved in closer to her. He moved her hair back from her neck and whispered, “No, Elise. I am not a stalker. I conjured you”

She snickered, “You conjured me? Ha! Maybe I conjured you! I have been thinking of you a lot lately.”

He was very serious, “Yes I know. That’s how I was able to find you. Your thoughts led me to you.”

She was beginning to get a bit creeped out. Had he gone mad since she last saw him. What the hell was he talking about???

“You don’t remember, do you?” he asked.

“Remember what?” she asked.

“Your promise to me. What you promised to give me?” he said.

Her mind was racing. What had she promised him so many years ago? What was it he wanted from her? They were never really a couple. They were more of a physical thing. He was a sadist who found pleasure in pushing her limits. There was no real relationship. They fed off of each other. Their sex was ethereal and molten hot. But she began a serious relationship with another and they soon went their separate ways. She tried to piece together their last encounter.

“I don’t remember. I am sorry. What did I promise you?” she nervously asked.

He laughed and took her face into his hands. He kissed her and she was transformed back to their last tryst. She was tied to his bed, legs spread wide as he poured hot wax all over her form. The sting was painful and sweet and he tormented her for what felt like hours. He asked her, “who do you belong to?”

She could hear herself…from 10 years ago, say, “I belong to you.”

“Do I have your mind? Your body? Your soul?” he asked.

In a breathless whisper, she said, “Yes. You have all of me.”

He pulled away from kissing her and looked deep into her eyes. “Now do you recall? You promised me your soul. Now I am here to collect, Elise. I want you. All of you. Give yourself to me.”

She felt an ominous sense of fear and trepidation as she asked, “Who are you, Jude? Who are your really? Tell me.”

He chuckled, “Oh Elise, you know who I am. You’ve always known.”

She felt his hand around her throat as she blacked out.  When she awoke she was bound to his bed, as like ten years before.  He was staring at her naked body.  There was a look in his eyes.  He wanted her.  And as terrified as she was, she wanted him.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked.  Her voice was trembling in fear.

“I am going to fuck you, Elise.  I’ve never stopped thinking of you.  I want you to be here.  With me.  Will you be mine forever?”

Before she took another breath, she said, “Yes”

He entered her in one movement and she felt ecstasy unlike anything before.  She had an orgasm, instantly. Followed by another and another.  He ravaged her and she welcomed him into her body with each thrust.  And as he unloaded inside her, her entire life played before her eyes.  She saw her entire existence.  From birth on.  He could see it too, after all he had been there the entire time.  Lurking in the shadows.  Waiting to take her.

And now he had her.  She was his.  Mind.  Body.

And Soul.

For eternity.

devil

 

Wicked Wednesdays with Tess Presents, “Carried Away in The Big Easy”

Continuing on with the Wicked Wednesday series, I am eager to share the following post with you…a decadent tale of fun and cloaked debauchery in the Big Easy, written by one of my favorite soulful Southern siren’s, Lennon Carlyle. Check out her guest post below and be sure to visit her blog at, https://fabulouswithglitches.wordpress.com

One of the Partners at the firm invited me to his Halloween party. Rarely had I been out in the last two years since I was trying to prove myself. I was the youngest attorney and had just won my eleventh case. Cause for celebration don’t you think?

The party was going to be one of a kind. He had rented out an old funeral home and was having an open bar with an incredible DJ spinning some serious beats.

Now, what will my costume be?

Witch? Devil? Maid?

I needed something unusual and something that would hide my identity. This was just in case I wanted to prowl around and get into something out of the ordinary.

That’s it! CAT WOMAN! Yes! Why not show off my curves tonight. Let’s face it, I’m blonde, blue eyed, 5’9”, 129 lbs, nice rack, hourglass is in check.
Purrrrfect!

The night had arrived and I was beyond ready. I must say I looked incredible. My full lips were shimmering with my favorite lollipop red lipstick. Although I was wearing the mask I decided to wear my hair down. Why not show off the blonde locks since every single day I wear it up in a bun. I wanted to be someone other than Poppy tonight. I wanted to be someone reckless and daring.

The leather felt righteous against my skin. This costume really showed off my hips and my tits. The thigh high platform boots made me feel superior. The limo picked me up and off I went. As I entered the party a Lurch greeted
me with a glass of champagne on a tray. Oh! How I love the bubbly. It always makes me feel kittenish. I walk over to the bar where I see Luke Skywalker AKA “The Partner” the one who is throwing this magnificent Halloween party.

I might actually need to check out Star Wars because Luke was killin’ it.  Yes, I know, where have I been to have never seen Star Wars?

Honestly, “The Partner” and I really don’t know each other well at all. He knows nothing about me personally. He makes eye contact with me and asks “Would you like another drink?”

I’m shaking in my platform boots at this point and wondered to myself…does he recognize me? In a Jersey accent I quickly reply “Of course I would love another drink.” (Note: I was in drama club in High School and had it perfected)

He orders me a Tombstone Tea. He leans into my ear and whispers “It’s refreshing but will put a spell on you.”

Is he hitting on me? Well, this could be the dare that I’m looking for this evening. Yes! Winning!

I’ve never noticed how green his eyes are. He has this extremely deep voice and even with these kick ass boots I’m wearing he’s still towering me. He introduces himself and I stretch out my hand introducing myself as Finn, a girl that came with a date that I can’t find and how I’m really not “feeling it” and how I’m trying to ditch this guy. He assures me that he can help with that. Hmmm…Oh really?

After three tombstone teas and four glasses of champagne I find myself arm and arm with “The Partner” walking down Frenchmen Street passing the bars and giggling at whatever he’s saying in my ear.

He stops abruptly and says “I’m going to take you to one of my favorite haunts.” We take a turn down a dark alley and just a few feet away I see a wrought iron archway. There’s a sign but it’s dark and my vision is blurry at this point. I’m feeling fantastical and will go wherever “The Partner” wants to take me.

As we enter the gate he suddenly scoops me up like a child and carries me. “I wouldn’t want you to stumble and hurt yourself in those boots Finn.” This cobblestone is broken in some spots.” I could get used to this…I put my arms around his neck and within just a few steps I realize we’re in a cemetery. The full moon is shining on the graves as if covered in glitter. This is nightmarish but also enchanting.

He carries me up a couple of steps and gently puts me down while he opens this shrill sounding door. He grabs my hand and pulls me into this tiny little dark room. He suddenly grabs the back of my hair and pulls my head back and begins kissing my neck. I immediately get chills up my spine. He then lifts me up onto his waist and I wrap my legs around him as he walks me over to something behind me and props me up on it. His kisses are hard and wet.

He’s drinking me in. He tastes like caramel and whisky. His tongue is delicious and wanting.

My mind says Stop – Don’t do this. I kept thinking, this is “The Partner” at my firm and I really shouldn’t be making out with him. Truth was, I wanted him badly. His lips were full like mine. He bit my bottom lip and the blood tasted so sweet. God, this man was fucking hot.

He picks me up off of whatever I was propped up on and flips me around facing the wall and I put my hands on something to hold myself up and realize it’s a casket. What the fuck? Oh my god, this is fucking incredible. I’m about to fuck “The Partner” in a crypt.  As he unzips my cat suit and rips it down to my knees the anticipation of him touching me is beyond intoxicating. I’m wearing no panties or bra. All access approved!

He put his arm around my waist to hold me in place and then began teasing my nipple with his fingers. He grabs my face and turns it towards his and starts kissing me again. His taste is addicting. Soon his tongue is licking my ear and he whispers “How bad do you want me to fuck you Finn?” Words couldn’t escape my mouth. I just whimpered under his grip. He took his knee and pushed my legs apart and brought his hand down to my clit. His fingers were melting.  My knees were weak and I held back on screaming his name.

He suddenly stopped and I heard his zipper come down and instantly he gained entry into my tight little passage. As he entered me he let out a rough low “Fuck.” He stood there not moving with that superb cock inside of me taunting me by standing still. I wanted him to fuck me until I collapsed but instead he was taking it all in, literally.

He whispered in that deep voice, “Are you ready Finn?” I was ready but also edgy, could I handle him? I loved the feeling of fullness in my narrow tunnel.

He grabbed my hips tight, pulled me backwards and then pushed my back to where my head was between my legs. I could see his knees at this point due to the moon glaring through the stained glass. I loved the way he was taking control over me, but I wanted more.

He knew how to take me and he knew how to make me beg. I finally had all I could take and I started grinding into him. He took me by surprise with this strength and fucked me hard and fast and with ill intention. Right when I was about to cum he pulled his cock out and pulled me up and turned me to face him. My mask was still on and he reached to take it off and I quickly got to my knees and licked and sucked his glorious shaft. He was growling and then pulled me up and looked me in the eyes and said “Just let me fuck you.” The way he said it sounded like he couldn’t live without it.

He had to have it.

He picked me up and I put my legs around him and he did exactly that. He fucked me like I’d never been fucked before. Every time he would thrust I would bounce breathless. There was a connection between us. We were driven and consumed with each other. When I came with him it was the feeling of being upside down in a roller coaster. It was absolutely thrilling.

As he hailed a cab for me he hands me his card and asks “Can I see you again Finn?” As I slide into the cab and look up at him I wink and whisper “Maybe” and as the cab pulls away I sigh with my kittenish grin.

Monday Morning arrives and I’m going over my notes for my case. I hear a knock on my office door, “Come in”. A delivery guy has me sign for a long white box with a beautiful black bow. The card reads “Finn AKA Poppy, Please enjoy these beautiful red poppies. I have to see you again. Meet me in the lobby downstairs at 8 pm. Since you’ve never seen Star Wars I thought it was about time. Your Jersey accent was outstanding but I knew it was you all along.”

He sent me poppies? Really? No one has ever done that before. How did he know? Fuck.

catwoman

Into the Woods (Wicked Wednesday Series)

Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest.

Her senses were attuned to everything around her.  The air smelled of pine mixed with the scent of rain.  She could hear faint raindrops as they hit the forest floor.  It was a soft, gentle rain.  In different circumstances she would have found this sound soothing.  But not tonight.  There was a bit of a chill in the air around her.  It was the first cool autumn night of the season.   Her hair was damp from the mist as it clung to her face.  The dusk quickly approached, she strained to see what was around her.

She was in the middle of the woods.  Alone.  Her wrists bound with rope, between two small trees.

The evening had begun innocently enough.  She and her boyfriend were visiting some friends, Justin and Marley, at their lake house for the weekend.  They arrived early Saturday afternoon and spent most of the day cooking, drinking cocktails and playing board games.  The drink she enjoyed the most was a spiked apple cider, served warm.  It tasted so good, she had not realized how potent it was.  She found herself buzzed when she recommended they play a game of truth or dare.  Everyone was eager for some fun.  Over a warm fire they shared some of their deepest, darkest “truths” but no one had accepted a dare.  Feeling a bit uninhibited from the cider, she wanted to stir things up.  On her next turn, she chose the dare.  Her boyfriend Jamie instructed her to finish her drink and walk outside towards the woods.

Little did she know the dare would land her in the middle of the woods, helpless, tied and frightened by what would come next.

You see, that’s what happens when you play truth and dare with the wrong people.

As she stood there, she couldn’t remember just how she got into the position she was in.  She recalled drinking a lot…she remembered walking along the path in the woods.  She remembered Jamie lagging behind her.  But she had no recollection of being tied to the trees.  It was as if she passed out or something.

Trying to piece it all together, she was startled to hear footsteps behind her.  She tried to turn her head to see who was there, but the darkness around her made it impossible to discern.  She tried to move her wrists, but the rope was secure and didn’t budge.

Her voice was shaky as she tried to sound confident, “Who’s there?  Jamie, is that you? This isn’t funny, you know!”

There was no response.  The footsteps stopped and she could feel someone standing close to her.  She desperately tried to see who was there.  She could feel them watching her.

Suddenly she felt someone touch her face.  “Shhh…don’t worry.  You are fine.  We are just having some fun, remember?”

She recognized the voice as Marley, Justin’s girlfriend.  What was she doing out there?  What was going on?

Marley stood behind her and pulled her hair back from her face.  She whispered in her ear.  “You’re really going to enjoy this.”  And she walked away.

Amanda was terrified.  She called to her, “Marley, wait!  What is happening?  Please untie me.”

In all the commotion, she didn’t hear Jamie walk up.  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.  “You look so sexy like this.”  He was holding a lantern and the flame provided enough light for their eyes to meet.

“What is going on, Jamie?  I don’t like this.  Untie me!” she demanded.

Jamie smiled and said, “I wish I could, but the dare is not over.”  He began to unbutton her shirt slowly as she protested, “What are you doing?  Not here!  Someone could see me.”

“Why are you worried, it’s just us out here.  Relax.  It’s dark.”

“I don’t like this.  Untie me, please.  I just want to go back to the lake house.” she begged.

“Not yet.” his tone was dark and ominous.  Just then, she felt his hands on her breasts, moving down between her legs.  With one hand on her sex he held her by the chin and said, “I am going to fuck you here, in the woods.  And here’s the dare…they are going to watch us.”

As scared and panicked as she was, she was immensely turned on at the thought.  She looked him deep in his eyes and said, “Then get on with it…if you dare.”

He loosened the rope from the trees and told her to put her arms around him.  He then pinned her to the large oak tree as he rammed himself into her wetness.  She let out a scream and threw her head back against the tree as he pushed himself further into her.  The bark scratched her back through her open shirt, but she didn’t care.  She could feel the others watch them by the light of the lanterns around.  Now there were three couples there.  A few of them completely nude.  Watching him take her on that tree.

He let out a growl that sounded like a wild animal as he unloaded inside her.  She could see her warm breath in the cool mist as she came with him.  It was so hot.  So primal.  So taboo.  They both fell to the ground and found themselves covered in the wet leaves and cold earth.

A hand reached out to her to help her up to her feet.  It was Justin.  Half naked and ravaged, she shyly stood up and as their eyes met, she found herself wanting him.  Wanting him to take her as Jamie did.  Wanting Jamie and Marley to watch them.

It was as if he could read her thoughts as he laid his robe on the ground and pushed her to her knees, filling her mouth with his large, hard cock.  She sucked him furiously, on fire with lust.  He joined her on the ground as Marley greeted her with a wet kiss. Marley began to feel her breasts as Justin moved behind her, pushing himself into her slick cunt.  Amanda began to scream in ecstasy as another couple approached them, wanting to watch more closely.

It was a wicked scene.  Justin fucking her from behind while she and Marley explored each other.  Both of them hungry to taste of the other.  Amanda writhed with pleasure as they continued to have their way with her, in front of Jamie and the others.  She heard Justin say to Marley, “Now.  Do it now.”  Marley was sucking her nipples and Amanda felt her soft lips move up to her neck.  It was heavenly, and then…the pain.  Excruciating, wonderful pain.

She wailed as Marley’s teeth penetrated her neck.

The light from the window awoke her.  She found herself in their guest room snuggled in the bed, under a white down comforter.  She heard someone walk in.  It was Jamie.  He was fresh out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.  He kissed her on the forehead and said, “It’s about time you woke up!  Bet you are hung-over after all the drinks.  How are you feeling, you lush?” He snickered as he walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

She was dazed.  Was it all a dream?  It felt so real.  She rubbed her neck to feel for the bite.  But there was nothing. She looked in the mirror and there was nothing.  She looked at her wrists and there were no marks from the rope.  Her body didn’t feel sore.  Her nails weren’t dirty.  Her body was clean and she was wearing the pink cotton gown she’d packed for the weekend.  She looked for her clothes from the night before.  They were in a heap on the floor by her suitcase.  Nothing was unusual.  They weren’t dirty or stained from being in the woods.

She thought to herself, “I guess it was a dream.”

She readied herself for a shower, pulling her hair back to put it in a ponytail, when she felt a small twig tangled in her mane….

Just then, outside her bedroom door she heard Marley say to Justin, “Hey baby, breakfast was good, but I’m still hungry.”  They both laughed a sinister laugh, as they continued down the hall towards the deck.

darkness

Wicked Wednesday with Tess presents, “Wrong Way In”

Good evening readers!  Thank you for joining me as we begin the Wicked Wednesdays with Tess series.

This is a deliciously sinful yarn spun by the intriguing erotica writer, Eon.  I hope you enjoy it as much I do.

Make sure you check out his bloghttp://www.eonserotica.wordpress.com

Wrong Way In

Jessica smiled at my offer.

“Really?  You would do that?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She stood on her tip-toes to kiss my cheek.  Her small warm hand squeezed my bicep.  Feeling my muscles?  Or just expressing gratitude?  God, I could never tell with her.  Everything she did seemed to mean two things.
“You’re such a sweetheart.”
You see what I mean.  Friend zone?  Or hint?
She began to gather her things.  I held up her jacket.  When she looked up to find it waiting for her to step into, she beamed at me.
“You really are.  Thank you again, Jeff.  I can’t handle him when he gets like this.  Remember, once you get him sobered up, he’s supposed to meet me at the haunted house at midnight.  His costume is in the trunk.  You’ll be able to find it?”
“Sure.”
She passed me the keys to his car, then turned to go.  Pausing, she glanced back over her shoulder.  Our eyes met over the keys still held up in my palm, like an offering.  She shook her head, then stepped in quickly and gave me a quick peck on the lips.
“Get a move on, you big dummy.”
Then she was gone.
My free hand touched my lips where hers had pressed so briefly.  I looked over at Max, Jessica’s fiancee.  Like her, a lifelong friend.  Unlike her, who had had only a single glass of white wine, he was half comatose with drink, mostly rum, mumbling to himself as he slowly slipped lower in the booth where he sat.  I heaved a sigh.  Struggling this brawny bastard into his car was going to be a helluva chore.  It was a good thing we were of a size.  Always had been.  I can remember people getting us mixed up as kids.  We’d always thought it was hilarious, and used it to our advantage when we could.
Now, that size was a definite advantage.  I left a generous amount of money on the table.  He’d been increasingly boorish as his drunkeness progressed, and I felt bad for the waitress.  Then I heaved him into a fireman’s carry and made my way out to the parking lot.  Bastard better not puke on my good suit.
A lot was going through my head, and not all of it was pleasant.  Lifelong friends look out for each other, sure.  But lately it was feeling very one sided.  I was worried about Max’s drinking.  I was even more worried for Jessica’s safety.  I’d known Max a long time, and he was an agressive drunk until he reached the blackout stage.  He’d done some things when we were in our teens, and she was such a tiny little thing.  Five foot tall in heels, if that, hardly more than 110 pounds.  I pictured lifting her up, her lithe little legs wrapped around my waist…
No, stop that.  Get this drunken fucker home and figure out what to do about the situation.  Odds were he wouldn’t be even halfway funcitonal by the time midnight rolled around.  Not the way he’d been slamming it back.  Sure, he was big, but I knew him.  He was teetering on the edge of blackout, and if that happened, there’d be no waking him for twelve hours.
Mumble, mumble.  Twitch and drool.  Cuss at me for driving too fast, making him feel sick.  Fuck you, Max.  You’re sick?  I’m fucking sick, too.  Of all of it.
Drag the guy out of the car, chivvy him up the stairs, half pushing, half dragging.  Get him inside.  He flops on the couch.  Well, at least he’s moving.  Maybe I can salvage the night after all.  I think about Jessica, that smile, that sudden unexpected kiss.  Yeah, okay.  I can do this.  For her, I can do this.
Put the coffee on.  Use the washroom.  Dig through Max’s CDs, find some good heavy metal, get the stereo cranked up.  Back into the living room.
“What the fuck, Max!  No, man, you’re done.”
He’s found the energy to get up and grab the whiskey from the liquor cabinet.  He hasn’t even bothered with a glass.  I move to take the bottle and he gives me a shove.  Roars at me, guttural, a beast.  I can see in his eyes that this won’t go the easy way.
So I raise my hands, placating, back away a few steps.
“Okay, okay.  You’ve made your point.  Fuck.”
He drops back onto the couch and takes a big swig.  I cringe.  Sit on the armchair opposite and watch him drink, listening to the savage scream of Sylosis’ vocalist echo demonically through the room… where the wolves come to die… before that brutally heavy guitar groove segues into the next track, Victims and Pawns.
So which am I?  Victim?  Pawn?  Which is he?  I’ve never seen him hit the bottle so hard.  It’s frightening to watch.  And which is she?  I know I should stop him.  For him, for her.  But what about me?  I don’t want to get into a scrap with a fucking gorilla who’s already numb to pain and reason.  And I’m beginning to think there are possibilities here, a way to take a little back for all I’ve given this asshole lately.
So I let him drink until he passes out.  Eventually.  It takes more than I expected.  But now he’s done, and it’s 23:00.
I go down to the car, grab the costume.
Ha.  Perfect.  Frankenstein.  A mask to cover the upper half of my face and everything.  I go back into the house to try it on.  Yeah, it’ll do.  We’re of a size.  I steal his boots and put them on.  Do my hands and neck and lower face up corpsey grey-green.  Only my eyes give me away, staring out of the Frankenstein mask, green as grass.  Max has brown eyes.  But it will be dark where I’m going, or dimly lit.
I arrive early at the haunted house, park Max’s car a ways down the street.  Walking through the dark, I’m greeted by goblins, ghosts, and witches as they flit out of the late night fog and make their way towards the abandoned mansion at the end of the street.
The house party held here every year is always nuts.  Last year a group purchased the estate, fixed it up, and began making the yearly bash an official Halloween event, selling tickets and everything.  Max’s ticket had been with his costume, and was now in my pocket.  Tradition dictated that everyone arrived alone, without telling anyone in advance what their costume would be.  I knew my size would give me away, and likewise, Jessica’s slight stature would let me spot her easily.  But I had no way of knowing who anyone else was.  That was sort of the point.  This was a party where anything goes.  Let the demons out into the night, in true Bacchanalian style.  In the morning, when the sun came up, the costumes would come off and we would all be divested of sin along with the getups.  Reborn.
I spotted Jessica right away, but didn’t approach.  Better to play up the Max role a bit; I went straight for the punch.  It looked like eyeballs floating in something greenish brown.  What the fuck are those?  Peeled grapes? I popped one into my mouth.  Yup.  Grapes.  I down a full glass of the punch and then ladle out another.
Whew!  Strong stuff.  I wander off to check out the mansion.  I figure she’s had plenty of time to spot me by now, and she’ll follow along if she’s interested.  I have a sneaking suspicion she’s not too impressed with Max, and so she might avoid me for the night, but I can always find her later.
The place is huge, of course, and every room has been done up in a different theme.  Dracula’s castle is already in full swing, the lord of vampires himself presiding over a bevy of sultry vamps in various states of dishevelment.  I wonder briefly if he needs to suck blood in order to get it up. Whatever.  The two vampires hungrily sharing his meat don’t seem inclined to complain how it got hard.  Those teeth, though!  Laughing, I move on.
There’s a dancehall, with a fog machine, eerie lights, and all the spooky Halloween favorites.  Gotta be fifty or sixty monsters gyrating out there.  The total abandon is a thing to see.  Something about a costume and a mask that gives a person complete license to indulge.  I can feel it working on me, too, eyeing up the scantily clad witches, the linen wrapped girl with the dancer’s body, a yummy mummy if I ever saw one.  I’m being checked out, too.  My size alone gets me a lot of attention, but there’s a reason people are here, and one monster is as good as another if you haven’t found a partner (or two or three) by the time the hour gets late.
Upstairs the game room is done up like a dungeon.  Some werewolves are shooting pool with a ghost.  A couple of zombies are playing strip poker and laughing at all the rotten flesh revealed.  I finish my second drink and find a third.  A blonde witch who is far too beautiful to play the role pulls me into a closet for a brief fumble at my zipper, but she can’t fit my cock in her mouth, and declines to try it elsewhere.  As we emerge the look on her face is one of stunned awe, and I enjoy the looks from the others in the room as I step out of the closet, slowly putting my length back into my trousers.  The werewolves howl and a mad scientist runs by, cackling madly, his lab assistant thrashing at him with a whip.
Jessica finds me one of the bedrooms.  It looks like the chamber of a voodoo priestess, perhaps, or a caveman shaman, all animal skins and dangling bones.  A nun is on the bed, being ravished by Jesus.
“Max.”
I turn at the sound of her voice.  I can only stare.
Black stiletto heels, buckled and strapped to the top of her shapely calves.  Fishnets, a tantalizing glimpse of white skin.  Clining black miniskirt, shockingly pink panties peaking out from under the scandalously high hemline.  Black corset, leather and lace, small firm breasts pushed up invitingly.  Black gloves past her elbows.  Slutty black and red makeup, incredibly luscious lips pouting below gigantic innocent little girl eyes.  Fuck me, she’s so tiny and perfect. I can’t breathe.  I’ve never wanted her so badly as I do now.  And right here, right now, I could have her, and she would forgive me for taking advantage of the situation, wearing the mask, pretending to be Max.  In the morning, she will understand.  I had to have her.
She approaches.  Her wings are large and black, feathered thickly.  They move when she does, an impressive illusion.  I notice her devil’s tail swishing behind her as she walks, hips swaying seductively.
“Max, are you avoiding me?”
I don’t answer.  I toss back my third drink, feeling the buzz creeping through my veins.
Our eyes lock.  The last of my inhibitions fall away.  Lifting her easily, I carry her into the next room, another bedroom, this one empty and dark.  Placing her gently on the bed, I push her onto her back and lean in, framing her with my arms.  She raises her face to my kiss and I taste her for the first time.  Her tongue meets mine.  She is wanton, hungry.  She lifts her hips and rubs her crotch against my stomach.  Sensation surges through me.  My erection suddenly strains at my slacks.  My mind stops spinning and I am completely, blissfully immersed in the sweet strain of the moment.
My hands are massive, engulfing hers.  I press my palm against her pubic mound and she grinds against it.  I feel her heat, her dampness, soaking through her pretty pink panties.  She gasps as I curl my thick fingers and deftly slide first one, then another, around the edge of the fabric.  She is slick and tight.  My fingers force their way inside, and she moans.
“No, no, don’t make me wait, I don’t want fingers, I want you.”
She is a fallen angel in truth, now, as she frees the serpent and succumbs to sinful urges.  Holding her panties aside, she guides me to the gates.
“Here,” she says, “here is where I fell from,” and I’m sliding inside her, her muscles stretching to accomodate my girth, her teeth gripping her lower lip as she struggles not to cry out in pain, and then the slippery fluids are working, and I’m halfway inside her, and then mostly inside, and then I’ve forced the whole length of my cock into the depths of her straining pussy and she’s gasping, “Yes, yes Max, oh God, I love you…”
And I can’t do it.  I’m not Max.  I can’t rape this woman.  That’s what’s happening here.  I’m raping my friend’s fiancee.  I’m raping my own best friend.
Horrified, I leap away.  I choke on a sob and stumble, sit heavily on the floor.  I shudder and a sound escapes me, a high keening.  I am a monster, in truth.  My heavy cock falls limp between my legs.
“Oh, God, Jess, what have I done?”
She’s in my lap, no hesitation, her small warm hands on my face, her mouth on mine.
“What?  What is it?”
“I’m… I’m not…”
“Shh…” she presses close.  “Shh… I know…”
I freeze.  I raise my eyes to hers.  But the look she is giving me isn’t meant for me.  It’s meant for Max.  She can’t see the color of my eyes in the dim light from the next room.  Did she see it when our eyes met back there?  I thought she had.  I thought maybe…
But I’m a fool.  A monster.  I can’t do this.
“I know,” she whispers.  “It’s okay.  Take your time.  I understand…”  She is kissing me again, reassuring.  What does she think is happening here?  Has her drunken lout of a fiancee fallen victim to erectile dysfunction?  Has this happened to them before?  Does she believe patience and compassion will fix this?
Slowly, heavily, like in a dream, my hand rises.  The mask comes away.
I feel her breasts press against my chest with the sharp intake of her breath.  For some reason I’m compelled to tighten my arm about her waist.  Holding her close.  No escape.  Confront it.  See the truth.
Look the monster in the eyes.
“Jeff?”
Her voice is barely there, a meek breath, an incredulous whisper.
I take my arms from around her waist.  Shaking, she rises, steps back from me.
I’m not prepared for the viciousness of her sudden stomp.  Fire shoots up through my guts.  I double over in agony, seeing stars, nausea rising in a sparkling wave.  I barely register the sound of her footsteps as she flees.  Gurgling, I curl around my self-disgust and weep silently.
Jesus and the nun look in on me.  They watch for a moment.  Then, without a word, they turn their backs.
The door snicks shut, cutting off all light.
fallen angel