“Don’t come back!” Scared of his depravity, I pushed away the devil’s son. But now, in bed, thoughts of him crawl inside me. Nest. He’s persuading, “Let me in,” ethereal fingers slipping inside my cracks. They burrow deep, no hole sacred as I clutch. Claw. Clamp him at need's interface where fingers, tongue, teeth explore, probe and debase my ravaged body. Gasps fill the room. Then begs. Until he takes me, pounding, defil...

For Dr Evie Morton, epiphanies usually came when hunched over her desk in the museum basement, not at 3am when her unborn son booted her bladder. She rolled to face the ceiling, mind spinning like the fan, disturbed air barely a whisper against her skin at this distance. Everything fell into place. All the puzzle pieces, the research, the late nights. All connected. Excitement rose. Occam's razor. Pluralitas non est ponen...

Few things in this world turn me on quite as much as being eye to eye with a hardening cock. Lord knows I can be insecure and I'm not always good at reading people, but knowing that a man is aroused by me, desires me, drives me a little wild. The man ahead of me, a work colleague and very much not my husband, is no exception. Despite having already cum countless times at his hands in the photography studio loft space, the...

I stop playing, the grand piano’s notes ringing out across the studio practice space in my home. So engrossed in her performance, Melody’s clarinet part continues solo for a good bar after. She tails off and raises an eyebrow, plucking the reed from her plump, natural lips. “What now?” “Can you not hear us drifting apart? Rimskij-Korsakow would be sorely disappointed.” She sets her instrument down on the music stand ahead...

There's silence in the studio space. Isaac regards me. I hold his gaze, while Jessica stands nearby, camera resting at her side, eyes flicking between us both. Nobody speaks. The Sir echoes around my brain, going to war with every logical thought I've ever had. So far, physical submission has been surprisingly easy, but mental submission is a whirlwind of conflicting emotion. Every stand I've taken in the board room, all...

His fingers drummed harder on his dark wood desk alongside the small stack of Math exercise books. “I’m waiting, Miss Rhodes.” “And I’m waiting for my phone back, Principal Hawkins.” She straightened in the leather studded chair opposite him. “It should have been returned after class, like usual.” He sighed, picked up the books and slid them into his desk drawer, retrieving her device in the process and placing it face do...

I've had my suspicions about Isaac for a few months, but always from a relatively safe distance. His sheer intensity up close makes my veins pulse harder. All of a sudden, instead of being just a colleague or a friend, he represents power. Danger. Unpredictability. It ought to scare me, well, it does, but in a good way. He's still dressed. I'm not, my bra and panties askew from masturbating in them while Jessica photograp...

I fold my arms, giving Isaac, who sits across from me at the café table, an eyeful of cleavage from the navy blouse’s gape. I’m unsure if his flitting from eyes to tits to eyes is predatory or opportunistic so I release and twirl my cake fork instead. “No way, José.” “I bet you’d be a natural.” “A natural disaster, yes.” He observes in that maddeningly aloof way of his—partway between amusement and pity—and I'm torn betwe...

Some choices lead down avenues one simply does not expect. Andrew is a prime example. He sits across the restaurant table in that not-quite beard, dark Polyester suit, and skew-whiff burgundy tie, smiling—actually smiling—at my discomfort. It is the sort of maddening smile that I would ordinarily challenge, had my focus been anywhere other than gripping the table edge and trying not to cum. He observes. Tilts his head. “S...

Skylar’s outburst is predictable when I present the inch-wide studded leather collar and secure it around her neck. I scoop her bronze tresses out from underneath to brush the lapel of her open leather coat, and cinch the collar to choking point, watching her reactions the whole time. The chain attached to the metal ring at her throat dangles through her cleavage, the delicate flesh either side half concealed by the patte...

I've always been drawn to night, even before mom died. The city casts its familiar glow upward, purple skyline providing a jagged, neon backdrop. My canvas. The pair of paint aerosols are full by my sides. Shake shake. Lifting them 6 inches from the suburban wall, I pause. Breathe in. Press the nozzles. Sweep my arms in opposing arcs. Commit. In-fill. The familiar buzz begins in my stomach, spreading up beneath the dark c...

I don't intend to gasp, but the ice he holds against the underside of my nipple bites. Delivers a new sting; part relief, part pain. Freezing water rolls beneath my bared breasts, clings then drips to the hotel carpet between us. Champagne and the cube’s meandering path glimmer on their upper surface, goosebumps kissing the aircon. I inhale. Swear the drifting scent is burning skin. Chew my lip. Groan. Steel. Eye him. His...

There are two types of house party: those that simply occur, and those that are talked about for years after. Memorable ones. Legendary ones. I like to think I've thrown two such parties. The first was during sixth form when my parents went on holiday. I printed flyers and made CD mixes months in advance, all on the sly. Probably would have gotten away with it had the neighbours not grassed me up because their Alsatian di...

It’s fitting. Homura’s name translates as blaze, and she reflects that with each searing splash of pink candle wax dripped onto her big breasts. Gasped syllables that don't even exist in my language bounce off the hotel walls as she arches, fists bunching the sheets. It takes her a while to drift those slender hips back down to the bed, not helped by me accidentally spilling more wax in a crude cross over her prominent ni...

The library is quiet. Warm. Sitting at the table, I lean over my open book as naturally as possible, given I'm slithering my pyjama legs down beneath. My pulse thumps. Another text buzzes. Show me. Biting my lip, I pause. Surely the dare's gone far enough? I flick my gaze to him, two tables away. Stubbled. Handsome. Unpredictable. Bzzz. Don't make me wait. Glancing around at scattered visitors, I part my thighs, cheeks fl...