There are billions of people on earth, and at least a third of them live their whole lives without being known. People know their names and faces, but their heart and their soul? They keep those hidden.

The idea is privacy and protection. At some point, most people un-brick the walls and pull back the curtains for some special person who, typically, does the same. Intimacy begets a connection that can be joyous and nurturing.

It also allows someone close enough to truly know you. And therefore know exactly how to hurt you.

Some people have been marked by the devastation of those moments where it all goes wrong. Sometimes, at their own revealing. Sometimes, by proxy. In youth, we learn directly through the experiences of our parents and siblings, as much as our own.

Those who have seen that damage refuse to let anyone in. They hole themselves up forever inside their own mind. And every so often, that buffer between them and people around them becomes a tool and their ability to repel the pressing need for intimate bonds becomes a skill.

In a few rare cases, that skill becomes something else entirely.

She was one of those few. And probably one of the strongest to possess it.

I was none of the above. Or, at least I believed I was.

Brian’s business had started as a joke between friends in college. The kind of joke that leaves you reeling when, five years later, he is one of the top 100 Most Successful Men in America under forty.

I was the kind of friend no one ever expected to amount to much. Not that I couldn’t or wouldn’t be successful, but my heart was too soft, my mind too open. My one and only skill was knowing if an idea was good or bad. That joke had been Kristy’s idea. And when I said it would work, the laughter was all but unanimous.

Seeing the business value in having someone like me around, Brian made me a partner. I got the deciding vote on new endeavours, and, in exchange, he got the deciding vote on everything else.

In the wake of the recession that shook the globe, we didn’t fold, but sought to give the world a reason to buy our product over others. Years before, I’d told him that I’d like to start a non-profit, at some point, because I never felt comfortable making a fortune knowing how many humans were starving. He recalled this, in the summer of 2008, and devised a means of donating a portion of every sale to a charity of our creation, therefore marketing the company to the masses as a business with a noble purpose.

The process was complicated and Brian had to keep me in check often, reminding me of financial reality and dismissing me whenever I got carried away talking about the people we helped.

“Fuck, Marc. Do you really think I care about this shit? It’s not about them, dude. It never was. It was a marketing ploy. An amazing one.”

“But, we are really making a diff–”

“Save it for a speech. Let me enjoy my beer.”

I lost myself to it, ignoring the stories and lives of those around me, focusing solely on the next mission or gift or cause or fire that Brian would allow me to throw myself into.

And then came Katrina.

Our friend Paul, who’d been a writer for the Times when everything went sideways, had been handling phones, press relations and travel. But got ball-and-chained and moved across the country. I had to hire someone, and fast. The phone is not my friend.

She came highly recommended by several political campaigns and was a personal assistant for a year for someone whose identity she wasn’t allowed to divulge. I later discovered it was a CEO in one of the major banks, but that was as much as she would admit. Nor would she say what had happened.

I was sure she’d be perfect before she’d even opened her mouth. Introducing Katrina to Brian was the kicker. He got to decide on everything else, remember.

Yes, he’s my best friend. But he can be a monster when it comes to women. He’d cast a nice wormy hook, and if she took the bait, that would be the end of it. She’d get fucked, and so would I. Warning her put me in the precarious position of admitting all of that.

“Brian is very… I’m not sure just how to say this.”

Crossing the street, I noticed her shoes. She’d worn heels to interview with me, but now she was in flats.

“Please Marcus. I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen. I’ve brushed off men at every job, without making them feel brushed off. I do my research. I know how to dress to dissuade attention without making it obvious.”

As we reached the restaurant, she stopped me with her hand on the inside of my elbow. Her smile was coy and sweet as she looked up from beneath her lashes. I hadn’t noticed her eyes before, but now I couldn’t break from her gaze.

My entire body responded. Every hair seemed to reach for her. My pores wanted to drink her. My mouth watered to taste her and my blood pounded inside my ears. My cock swelled ferociously while my hands tingled with a wicked desire to touch her skin, feel her inside and out, bring her to orgasm until she couldn’t breathe. My stomach roiled from the intensity of it.

As she stepped back and laughed, my cheeks burned.

“I also know how to achieve it.”

Katrina rolled her shoulders and stepped up again with her fingers wrapped around the door handle. I swear, I felt the grip as if her hand was inside my shorts.

Then I sagged with relief as all of these sensations suddenly flitted away. Like I’d imagined each one.

“You hired me because I wanted you to. And Brian will love me but not desire me, because I don’t want him to.”

For a moment, I stood inexplicably still, caught with the heaviness of trying to recall something that did not want to be discovered. But as she grinned at me and motioned inside with a flick of her head, I thought I’d simply found Brian’s female equivalent.

We sat at lunch for over two hours. Katrina ran the meeting, making prolific notes and discussing her role between the company and the charity with a confidence that was impressive. Brian, unimpressible as he generally was, smirked at her as she closed her pad folio. I gritted my teeth at this sign of him preparing his fishing line.

But the smile she’d given in return burned up the moment like a laser. Then lunch ended without incident, and Brian actually congratulated me on such a great find.

So, I shrugged off my concerns and walked back to the office with Katrina, feeling pride and success. Accomplishment at finally having judged another human well.

Oh, the irony.

It was weeks before I thought about that moment in front of the restaurant again. But I started having surreal dreams that woke me with a raging hard-on and a splitting headache.

Who puts stock in dreams? They are just your subconscious way of processing your experiences. I tried to believe it.

And as we worked closely together, Katrina loosened a bit with me. But she was diamond hard with Brian. She never budged an inch when he was around. Which only strengthened my attraction.

I spent more and more nights, alone in bed, picturing those long, strawberry blonde waves, falling decadently over her pale skin which somehow looked impossibly delicate beneath the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and soft curve of her chest. Her ocean green eyes peered up at me through thick lashes and her raspberry pink pout would break into a smile before she bit down on her lower lip.

The fantasies became so intense. Things I’d never considered before. I found myself in the restroom at least once a day with my cock in hand and visions of her swimming through my head, naked and writhing, struggling and screaming, moaning and crying. I thought I was losing it.

In important moments though, my thoughts and visions of her would dissolve and I’d be able to work. So I threw myself into it. Only, that just brought me near her more often. I found myself losing chunks of time occasionally. Opening my eyes to find 28 minutes gone, and my fingernails firmly dug into the armrests of my chair.

I was getting very close to making an appointment with a shrink.

Bun one afternoon, sat at my desk watching her, trying to figure out what was happening to me, she suddenly looked up and caught me staring through my open door. I watched her blow me a kiss before slouching down in her chair, hitching up her pencil skirt and spreading her thighs wide.

She sat at a table-style desk, open beneath, so I could see the lace of her panties between her legs. Sitting up uncomfortably, but unable to shift his eyes away, I watched her fingers wrap around her water bottle. Feeling the inexplicable pressure around my cock, I gasped loudly as she slipped her fingers into her panties below the desktop.

She lifted the bottle to her lips and swirled her tongue around the capped tip. I experienced it as if she were kneeling in front of me. She rubbed herself furiously, whispering for me to come take her, slipping her panties off and inserting the tip of that bottle into herself and working it in and out until my cock was about to explode.

It ended as quickly as it began when she was startled by the ring of the phone. She silenced it, before glaring at my fingers gripping the edge of my chair so tightly that my knuckles had gone white. The she slipped into the bathroom.

While she was gone, but I was cemented into my seat, I wrote down exactly what I’d experienced and slipped the page into my jacket pocket before she returned.

It was 11pm that night when I read the page that I found, quite by surprise.

I didn’t remember any of it. Not even writing it.

But my fantasies of her that night were even more vivid than ever before. And when I woke, sweaty and thrashing around on my mattress, still feeling her clenched around my rigid cock, I decided to start writing everything down. Everything I could.

Almost a year passed. Very little was written.

She stood in my doorway with her hair piled into a bun and wearing that blouse that was meant to drape, but clung instead, begging to be ripped from her then used to violently restrain her so that she could be used and pleasured. It mocked me, that fucking blouse.

I glared at her. But she smiled.

“You are a tough shell to crack, Marc.”

Trying to look away, I didn’t trust my ears. Months of visions and dreams had blurred together with moments that couldn’t possibly be real. I had come five times that day already, but hadn’t released a drop of semen. I didn’t want to look at her, but she never gave me a choice.

She sashayed through the door and dropped a sheet of paper on my desk.

“I’m giving my notice.”

I continued to stare, carefully grinding my teeth to prevent myself from speaking. I still couldn’t be sure this was real. Or a trick. I have no idea what would’ve happened if I’d ever let go. And I’m still not clear on the why.

“I hope you’ll provide me with a glowing reference.”

It wasn’t really a request, I felt her attempting to implant the words inside my brain. It was the worst part. Knowing, but not knowing.

I had resorted to communicating with her solely by text or email, working from home as often as possible, and with my office door closed when I was there. It had become my life goal to evade her. To prove to myself that I wasn’t insane.

Or that I was.

“You don’t need to stay two weeks. If this is real, today should be your last day.”

I managed to drag my eyes away from hers to look at the page on my desk. It was a typical letter of resignation. I gripped the edge of the warm wood and waited for her to leave.

But she sniffed, making me look up.

“Why do you hate me? What did I do to make you hate me so much?”

My eyes grew wide as a tear slipped down the crevice between her nose and cheek.

My entire body flooded with the primal need to comfort and soothe her, make the tears stop. Tell her whatever she needed to hear…

But my mind caught the crest of that wave. Just the peak. Where there was still oxygen above it. Before she began inundating me with the visions of my arms wrapped around her, my nose in her soft, vanilla scented hair, my lips capturing hers.

I shook my head, hanging to the thread of belief that I would not and could not fuck her or something devastating would happen. I knew with every fiber of my being that touching her would be the end of me. And who knows what else.

“How can you be so cruel? You were so kind in the beginning, so sweet and funny and–”

I glared at her again, my fingernails digging into the desk.

“I may be cruel, Kat. But if I am, something made me that way.”

It was the first time my voice felt like my own in weeks. And at those words, something broke.

In her.

Between us.

And electrified me.

My thoughts were as clear and bright as they’d ever been. All of my memories returned to me, some of them so shocking, I wish they hadn’t. Her desire to make me take her had devolved her into something almost pitiable. Almost.

My desire for her had not waned, but the talons of it had shifted. I felt my fingers at the edge of the desk and flattened my hands over the top. I began moving my fingertips in small circles as her eyes grew and those beautiful lips parted.

She watched my hands as I felt her nipples beneath them.

Her breath came in shallow bursts as her her own fingers danced across the hem of her skirt.

Realization popped between us and I smiled at her. The fear I’d stomached for months glittered behind her eyes now, like fireworks. Her lips began to move, but no sound escaped.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Katrina?”

I felt the wave of anxiety roll off of her like a cool breeze.

The power of manipulation can be a disgusting thing. But in the right hands, perhaps it could be used for good. My mind filled with Robin of Loxley ideas. Would it work on men or only women, if I used it?

As Katrina kneeled in front of me and began to unbuckle my belt, I looked down into the oceanic eyes that had mesmerized me for so long. I could let her have what she’d wanted so desperately all this time. I could use her as she’d wanted to use me.

“No, no,” I whispered.

And as the last little strands of that incredulous gift made their way from her to me, I took her hand and helped her to her feet.

“There are better ways to use people, Kat.”

With my hand at the small of her back, and my lips against her ear, I told her to go home and do nothing.

“It’s your last day. Enjoy the freedom.”

I chuckled at the light in her eyes and the wrinkle between her brows that I’d never once seen in 12 months.

“I’ll call you, Kat.”

She licked her lips and I simply couldn’t help myself. Power is the best kind of revenge. I pictured her, perched on the arm of the couch, waiting for her cell phone to ring.

That freedom, perhaps, was not liberating at all.

Dearest Reggie…

This post is a bit of fan-fic dedicated to the amazing Eric Keys who hasn’t written anything in his series Letters to His Mistress for entirely too long because he’s stalled, bored, and/or has been spending time writing stuff he would actually like to make money on, or something. Bad blogger… 😉
In an effort to inspire him to finish, I’ve written this letter from Edith’s P.O.V. (the mistress, who Reggie calls Eden).
If you haven’t read his series, this piece will make little sense (especially the end) and I encourage you to click over to LTHM to catch up. While you’re over there, leave Mr. Keys a message to let him know what you think. If you don’t feel like it, read on anyway, just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Oh wait…
**WARNING – This is not my typical style of erotica, and includes a bit of horror towards the end. 
(For those of you anxiously awaiting new material from ME in Good Girl and Moonlighting, it is my plan to wrap up both in the following week or two. So… no eye rolling or lectures… please? Feel free to give Mr. Keys a hard time, though…)

Dearest Reggie,

I can’t believe it hasn’t quite been two weeks since I last saw you. It feels like weeks, maybe months.  I won’t go into everything that has happened, because I’m quite sure Abe has kept you well-informed.

To be perfectly honest, I’ve been happy to have had him around, several times.

I know you’ve been very busy, dealing with “things coming to a head”. Abe has even made some excuses about you not contacting me, but I will admit to some insecurity. Imagining you with some, young, lovely lady does turn me on, but I’d prefer to think of you missing me as much as I miss you. I’d prefer to think of you lusting after me, alone. You said, “…one mistress is enough. But sometimes, things happen.” I hope they have not.

I certainly have no right to make demands on that issue. But I assure you, sweetheart, I do not plan to find any young stallion to use. My only wish is to use you.

I can’t stop thinking about you. About our last few days together. God, Reggie, my body has never been so alive. I feel an actual, physical need for you. I’ve been masturbating at the rate of a teenage boy. Sometimes, several times a day, to the point of actually making myself sore.

I’ve already stopped once, just while writing this letter to you. I’m crazed with lust for you. I fantasize about you coming to my office and crawling under my desk to pleasure me with that delicious tongue of yours. I’ve only been wearing skirts and dresses to the office in some twisted hope to make that fantasy come true.

I imagine you making me moan and purr with delight. I picture myself climbing under there with you, straddling your face while I take your beautiful dick into my own mouth. The perfection of our simultaneous pleasure would be heard throughout the floor, but I wouldn’t care. After I coated your face in my musk, I’d push you out from beneath the desk so that I could get your legs into the air and have full access to your manhood.

I’d stroke your length while licking and kissing down your balls until my tongue found that soft spot between your sac and your ass. I’d massage it with my tongue and tease your puckered hole until you were wet with my saliva. I’d push inside, driving you wild, then I’d fuck your ass with my finger and take your cock back into my mouth.

Just before you were about to explode, I’d climb on top of you and fuck you like it was the last day of my life. I’d come all over you while you were coming inside of me. And, just to prove I really had you, I’d kiss and lick you all over until you were hard again.

I just had to masturbate, again. I want you so bad, Reggie. I need you.

The dreams have gotten so intense, lately. I sometimes wake more than once, during the night, on the verge of orgasm. When I told you about them, I had hoped to purge myself of them. But now, the rare nights that they don’t appear, I find that I miss them, in a sense.

One of the dreams, last week, was absolutely terrifying. The demons had us both chained, and were torturing me, while forcing you to watch. Your eyes were wide, but your face was set like stone. They cut open my skin with their claw-like fingers. They moved the burning chains around so they could access fresh flesh. They used their barbed tongues and talons on my breasts and pussy, driving me insane with pain and pleasure.

Several times, when I thought I was about to die, I would see your raging, hard cock, and would be suddenly out of my mind with orgasm. Finally, during one of those orgasms, you broke free of your chains and ripped the demons apart before fucking me, wildly, covered in their vile flesh.

When I woke, my husband was screaming at me to stop, because I was writhing and finger fucking myself, right there, next to him. I didn’t stop. Until I came.

He is sure something is wrong with me, because through all of this masturbating, I can’t have sex with him. I can’t even imagine it, sweetheart, because all I can think of is you. I’ve slept in the spare bedroom since that night. He’s barely spoken to me, other than trying to get me to go to church and speak to our pastor, again.

With everything else that has happened, I simply no longer see the point.

The dreams are horrific, for sure. I do not understand why they make me feel like they do. But it is almost as if they are a surrogate for you. I feel more sated from the orgasms I have from those dreams than any, in between. Almost as satisfied as I would be with you.

But I won’t be satisfied again, until I have you in my arms. Please, sweetheart. Whatever is keeping you from me, I wish you’d sneak away.

I need you, Reggie.

Your ‘Eden’

lipstick kiss


I finished my latest installment of the Dancer series on Hipster Intelligence Agency.

It is a story about Natalie, an eighteen year old, quite cocky and self confident girl, seeking Dominance without quite realizing it. She throws herself in the path of a handsome, but rumored playboy who quickly helps her see things in herself that she had never realized. And makes her want things she has never wanted.

It’s a pretty hot series, which I enjoyed writing a lot. I hope, if you haven’t already, that you’ll check it out.

Dancer, Part 2
Dancer, Part 3
Dancer, Part 4

Let me know what you think!!


The Man

I tried something different, a little Horror Erotica, with the help of the wonderful Eric Keys. I intended to write sexy, supernatural gore, but it still ended up being about submission!! If you choose to read it, (PLEASE NOTE: This is not a story for the queasy, it is bloody, violent, and gruesome in parts, especially Mr. Keys’ contribution) I hope you enjoy it and that it doesn’t give you many nightmares!! (Thank you, Sir! It was a pleasure writing with you!!)

(This story was originally reblogged from Eric’s site, which he has since deleted. You may, however, find his current work at

Sexy Mel of pushingourlimits wrote the following story. I think it is full of dark, sexy goodness. She honored me by allowing me to write one scene. See if you can guess which one it is.

And without further ado, Mel’s story:

Title:The Man

Word Count: 6,300 (approx.)

Mature content including depictions of sex, violence, blood, gore, other bodily fluids and a bit of philosophy.

I stood waiting on his order, this incredible smelling man sitting at my counter. I’d worked a double the last two days, and was dog tired during this final hour before a much deserved two days off.

But when this fellow strutted in at closing time, I didn’t even flinch. I’m not sure what cologne he was wearing, but it caught my breath before I even saw him, and I wouldn’t have cared if he was ugly as sin. He smelled like heaven rolled in lust and dipped in sex. When I turned to see him, my breath caught again.

His face wasn’t particularly special, but there was something about him, about his eyes. Something dark. Just looking at him made my temperature rise.

“Is there anything sweet, you might suggest, Miss?” Oh Lord, his voice was even better than his smell. Thick and deep, it melted over me just like chocolate.

“I could,” I winked brazenly, “but I don’t get off until you leave, Sir.” I smiled, salaciously, before wishing I’d checked my reflection before he’d sat down.

He smirked and glanced at my eyes, before doing a full once over of my entire body. For a moment, I considered turning for him, so he could get the full effect.

“Well, sweet Charlene, perhaps we could remedy that by closing up, and skipping my order all together?”

I have no idea what the story was with this guy, but he had my number. I hadn’t noticed him look at my nametag, but thought he must’ve while he ogled me. I smoothed my hand over my hair, twisting my ponytail down over my shoulder. Why do women always touch themselves when they are aroused? I couldn’t help it though, it was as if something was controlling me.

I walked, automatically to the front door, spun the sign and flipped the lock wondering what the hell I was getting myself into. But when I turned, he was right behind me. I didn’t jump though, because I knew it. It was the strangest sensation I’d ever had. Accompanied by the feeling that I had to let him get close to me. I thought to myself, I don’t even know this man’s name!

“My name is not important, as I actually go by many.”

Sweet Jesus, this man was reading my mind.

“I am not far from Jesus, precious girl, but you wouldn’t understand much of that if I tried to explain. So instead, why don’t you just agree that you would like to play. You and I could have a little fun this evening.”

My mind was spinning, as he stepped against me, but I didn’t back away. I pressed forward, feeling the incredible heat of him, breathing his intoxicating smell, and staring into his hypnotizing eyes.

“What are you doing to me?” The question left my lips before I even thought it.

“If you agree, I am going to give you immense pleasure… possibly mixed with the vicious pain you secretly desire. Ah yes, open that up to me so I can see what it is you truly want. You like to be beaten, slapped… perhaps cut? Oh, sweet little girl, we will have a ball, you and I.”

“Why should I trust you?” My voice was now shaky with need, as whatever hold he had on me got stronger every moment our bodies touched.

“You probably shouldn’t. But my pleasure comes from your pleasure. I will only hurt you as much as you crave to be hurt. Your arousal makes me stronger, do you feel it?”

“Yes, Sir. …Yes, I feel it?” My eyes closed and his warmth wrapped around me like liquid fire, sliding around hidden peaks and between secret folds. But I suddenly became very frightened at the thought of what kind of creature could do such things.

“Don’t be frightened, just feel it. It’s a taste of the pleasure I could bring you if you agree.”

“But…. But what’s the price. There must be a cost. Are you going to take my soul?” His laugh filled the shop and my ears with the most incredible sound. This couldn’t possibly be the devil. Not the devil I’d ever heard of.

“Oh sweet, little one, no. I am not the devil. I do not want your soul. Only your power.”

“What power do I have?” My breath left my lungs in short pants, as I actually felt his fingers dancing inside of me, even though his arms lay limply by his sides.

“You have the most amazing kind of power.” He dropped his nose to my hair and inhaled deeply. I could only imagine it smelled like coffee and cleaning spray, from working all day. “You smell like electricity and excitement to me, Charlene. You smell like unbridled passion, fury and life.” I suddenly felt his erection and could barely stop myself from collapsing and begging him to let me have it.

“All you have to do is tell me you’re mine. And this raging cock is all yours.”

I took several deep breaths, trying to clear my mind of his magic. I even thought, Please get out of my head.

He did. He stepped back and withdrew completely and I suddenly felt freezing cold and chest crushingly empty. I opened my eyes and stared at him, willing him to return. As a single tear slipped down my cheek, he growled, “Say it.”

I swallowed and whispered, “Please come back?”

It may have only been a few seconds, but that cold made it feel like an eternity before he stepped against me again, and his warmth enveloped me, this time, with his arms. He bent his lips to mine and rumbled, “I cannot kiss you until you say it.”

I exhaled, and he stole my breath. I blinked and the warmth reached my heart. “I’m yours.”

I wasn’t sure I’d said it aloud for a moment, but then suddenly his lips were pressed against mine and his tongue was dancing with mine. The warmth turned to a fire that burned so brightly I lost my mind for a moment or two.

When I returned, he was carrying me into the kitchen, his frame seemed much larger than it had when he was sitting. He sat me on a table, pulled my wrists behind my back and began to untie my apron before speaking to me through my mind.

Is anyone here? Will anyone come tonight?

I didn’t need to answer, because the answers were there as soon as he gave me the questions.

Having him inside my head was strange, but exhilarating. And the way my body felt was incredible.

I’m going to go very quickly at first, I need you to let go completely.

He pulled my t-shirt over my head and hummed at the sight of my pretty, soft breasts cupped in sheer coral fabric. His fingers practically dissolved me out of my jeans, I’m still not sure how he accomplished that, as I wear them quite snug on my curvy ass.

Your body will heal. You must remember that.

Suddenly, he flipped me and secured my wrists with my apron strings to the side of the table. His hands began pinching and rubbing my ass between stinging blows of his palm. I heard his belt buckle and the leather slide from the loops and nearly came from the thought of him strapping me, like my daddy did when I was a girl.

You’re daddy’s good girl, why would you need a strapping? Oh, yes, because of your naughty, slutty thoughts.

The first few blows, he laid on my ass cheeks with the belt folded in half. But then he released it and let it whip through the air, all over my body. The pain was so decadent, I’m not sure I would call it pain at all. After 20 or 30 strikes, he bent and said aloud. “I need blood, your body will heal.”

He pulled a knife from the block on the counter and ran it over my ass. I couldn’t scream, nor did I want to. The searing pain of each shallow slice was quickly negated by his thick, luscious voice in my mind, calming me, telling me I was a good girl, and how amazing my powers were.

After 7 scores, he dropped the knife and began rubbing the blood and licking the wounds. I didn’t panic at all, and instead felt incredible need for him to continue. As my thoughts began to race, his fingers slipped between my cheeks and into my dripping lips. “I want to fuck your amazing pussy, but I need you to cum first. I need your climax to give me full strength.”

It took but mere seconds for the waves of pleasure his vibrating fingers pulsed into me to send me bucking and jolting over the edge. My juices flowed from me, onto his waiting tongue as he lapped them up moaning, and growling with his own deep satisfaction.

I felt that liquid warmth wash over me again, as whatever power I was feeding him strengthened within him. He roared his lust against my ear as he slammed his suddenly free rod ferociously into my quivering cunt.

After only a few thrusts, I came again, with such intensity, I thought I might turn inside out.

He slowed to allow my mind to recover, but then pulled free and flipped me over onto my backside. It didn’t hurt. Questions filled my mind about what he had done, because I saw the blood on his chin and hands, but my ass did not hurt. Not even a tingle.

He smiled a questionably evil grin, “I told you that you would heal. I couldn’t have you bleed away all of that power.”

He released my wrists and spun me on the table as my thoughts spun around the cuts and the blood. “Would you like to see? You want to see the blood too? Taste it. Feel it. Rub it all over your gloriously pale skin?”

“Yes, please, yes!” What had come over me? These were not thoughts or fantasies I’d ever had before. The magic this man infected me with… “Yes.”

He sliced off my bra, and groaned as my heavy tits bounced free. Bringing the knife to the top of my breasts, he heard my thoughts about scars and whispered, “There will be no marks.”

As the blade ran across my flesh, fine red dots began to grow and fill into drops, then flow into pools and rivulets. I groaned, as I felt the searing pain of a fresh wound, but the incredible liquid heat that he was spreading throughout my body quickly turned it into something else. Something incredible. I lifted a hand to touch it and his voice filled my head again.

Rub it onto your nipples so that I may taste them both together.

I slid my fingers through the line of blood, and then circled my tight peaks, moaning and panting at the incredible pleasure alive throughout my whole body.

His lips dropped to my chest and he began licking and sucking, then biting until his cock could not be ignored another moment. “Please let me taste it?” I begged.

He jumped onto the table, straddling my chest and began stroking his huge dick between my breasts. The blood coated it quickly and he rose to fuck my waiting mouth. It tasted like syrup and metal and heat and salt. I sucked and swirled as he rammed his erection into my throat repeatedly. I knew whatever control he had on me was keeping me from gagging, and started to lose pace with my breathing until he reminded me, with his mind, not to slip away.

I felt him trembling and knew he was going to cum, so I began swallowing repetitively against the tip of his glorious cock. As he shot pulse after pulse of searingly hot seed down the back of my throat, he pulled himself free so that he could watch the final ropes hit my tongue.

He tasted as good as he smelled, and as I licked my lips and hummed my delight, he lowered himself to lie on top of me and lick the bloody wound across my chest.

As he did so, I watched it close.

Then I looked into his eyes and saw the lust was unabated. I tried to mentally prepare myself for more.

His expression told me any such preparations would be useless, before his voice filled my mind.

You’re quite good, my little slut. But I understand this might be overwhelming. Do you need a break? Because I’d like to really get at your pain fantasies, now that I am somewhat sated.

My mind was blank. I must have repeated his last sentence in my own mind five times before he said aloud, with annoyance, “You are thinking far too much. Have I given you any reason to feel this… concern that you are overcome with?”

I stared at him, thinking how the pain hadn’t been real pain, how his magic made it different.

Is it true pain that you wish to experience? I will go, and you will understand true pain.

“No!” I shouted, remembering the emptiness and coldness left from him absence earlier. “No, I just don’t fully understand…” My voice fell away as abstentious humor curled his lips.

He dropped to the floor, standing even taller than I had remembered, and took my hand to raise me off the table. “Sweet Charlene, no, you do not fully understand and that is your hesitance, isn’t it. Is it being here, in the place where you are normally in charge? Would you prefer I take you home?”

He wanted to bring me to his home? He had house just like a human?

“Oh, dear girl. You must stop thinking.” He pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me, and breathing in deeply against my hair. This time I felt him draw the power, and I felt the strength build in his embrace. The air around us shifted, and when I opened my eyes, we were on my porch. I pushed against his chest but he didn’t budge, and instead, snaked his hand down to my naked ass. “Now, invite me inside, my sweet southern belle.”

“How did we get here? Why didn’t you let me dress?” The fear was building instead of abating, and it was apparently stealing back the power from him, because he let me go.

Stepping back, I see that he is fully dressed, and then as I take another step, placing my back against the front door, I look down and see that now I am dressed too.

“You need only think about what you wish. If you get past the fear, I can make all your wishes and desires true. You know this, deep inside, but continue to let the fear spin your thoughts.”

I let out a the huge breath I’d been holding and closed my eyes. When I did, I felt the warm energy surround me again, slipping into my clothes, my panties, my chest and my soul. “But this is evil,” I whispered, not opening my eyes.

“The fear is born from not knowing or understanding what it is I am giving to you. Or what you might do with it.”

When I opened my eyes, his expression was grave, but the heat increased, and again, I felt as though his fingers were inside me, circling my clit, pressing into my ass. “An explanation is what you need, little girl. But you still won’t understand. Give into your desire, let me pleasure you for the next two days. Let me help you understand yourself. At the end, you will understand my needs.”

I suddenly felt incredible sadness, that shocked and hurt me. “No, no, child,” he breathed as he stepped against me, filling my mind with images of me with children, a real home, a pleasant life. “Do not think ‘the end’ is THE end, I do not wish to harm you. I wish to bring you over. I wish to make all your dreams come true, but not the dreams you’ve had for your future, the ones you will have once our union is complete.”

The images shifted, and there were still children, but different. There was still a home, but much different. In this future, I was not a simple southern waitress, but a powerful goddess of some kind. It still was something I could not understand. But his presence around and inside me was so exhilarating. I wanted more pleasure. More pain. More blood. And more power. I felt his goals blooming inside of me as I whispered, “Yes, …please come inside.”

Why he required the invitation, I am unsure, but it doesn’t matter as we stepped into my living room and our clothes disappeared. He asked me through our telepathic connection if I had rope, and I answered him the same way, growing more accustomed to the connection. I pictured my scarves, and he immediately pulled me into my bedroom, knowing my home from the knowledge of my mind.

He positioned me at the end of the bed, and stood in front of me. I felt his thoughts as though I were thinking them myself, and I somehow let him see that I wanted his magic inside of me again. He grabbed my elbows tightly and our lips touched. Suddenly I experienced a whirlwind of sensations. As though there were lips and tongues and fingers and cocks all around me, stroking me, kissing me, penetrating me. He let go of me and I opened my eyes to see blue smoke surrounding me in streams.

My arms were thrust out to my sides and my legs yanked apart, as I was lifted onto my back on the bed. The smoke turned solid, and I watched as thick, blue rope like tentacles wound around my entire body. One large one, flicked over my nipples before rising to ram into my mouth. Some smaller with pointed ends flicked at my nipples and clit while another large one inserted itself into my pussy. As if they were one, great monster, they fucked me and teased me, until I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly that they hurt. The ecstasy mixed with fear was far too much and I pleaded for his true presence. When I opened my eyes again, he was lying on top of me, the tentacle monster gone, as if it were never there.

“You must get past the fear, little one. It angers me,” he growled against my lips, but instead of increasing my fear, it only built on my lust. He growled again in my ear, shooting vibrations straight to my clit, and sensing this ability, he roared, that dark, venomous roar from earlier, and I came. Hard. My pussy clenched as my liquid desire filled the room with my scent.

He inhaled a deep breath before rumbling, “Yes! Give me more, sweet girl!” He jumped off of me, halfway across the room in completely inhuman fashion, but his thoughts were in mine, and I knew he was seeking the scarves. When he returned, he quickly bound me, tightly, and somewhat painfully. He grinned at that thought, and dipped to kiss me. “There is much more pain to come, my sweet.”

I quivered at the notion, and his chuckle filled the room with the most amazing sound. After he finished laughing, I saw him holding his belt again and chills spilled over my skin. I was tied, wrists together, and lashed to the headboard. My ankles were each tied to the legs of the bed frame. He was going to strap my front.

He folded the belt in half and immediately started striking me with it. My breasts, my belly, my arms and thighs. Over and over, each blow landing hard enough to leave a mark, some welting immediately. The heat from the hits combined with his electricity smoothing over my skin after each blow went everywhere but the spot that I longed for and feared equally.

Let go of the fear, recognize how much you want it and let go.

I started begging him, in my mind, as I bit my cheek, to do it. Hit my pussy, please. Hit my pussy!

Fourteen strikes, harder each time, landed on my swollen lips and engorged clit. The pain was excruciatingly pleasurable, and, for a moment, I didn’t want him to ever stop, but then I heard him whisper, “I need your blood, again.”

The fingers of his right hand were suddenly holding a three pronged knife, a sai, his voice filled my head again, and I longed for him to say more.

I want to cut you and heal you over and over, I want to feed off of you… You want it, don’t you. You want the blood as much as me.

“Yes!” I screamed, pulling at my restraints, writhing and pleading, in my mind, for him to begin. Devour me!

His lips were on mine, before he suddenly bit, then sucked on my tongue. I tasted the blood, but the wound was healed in seconds, and I felt my climax rising inside of me, with his huge cock pressed against my thigh. When I opened my eyes, he was smiling at me, a purely diabolical look in his nearly gold eyes. Where they always that color? His blood covered teeth flashed at me, and my body sung with need.

“Please, please…” I moaned, desperate for more, for something, for completion.

I felt the knife under my breast, before he whispered, “I’m going deeper this time. You will still heal, but this time, you’ll bleed longer. It will hurt worse, but only for a moment.”

That intoxicating warmth flowed over and into me, I supposed to dampen the pain. I moaned and whimpered at the pleasure, but as the blade slid into my breast slowly, I cried out, thrashing against the pain. I screamed as he pulled the blade free, but the scream rolled me into an earth shattering orgasm.

His magical smoke flowed throughout me, penetrating me, and the added pain and pressure from his lips as he sucked on the bloody wound sent me crashing against my own body. Clenching and squirting, the waves kept hitting me and I wondered if it would ever end.

I nearly forgot what was happening, when my mind was quickly filled with more images. Visions from him, of this future, with him. But suddenly, I was in control of them. He had healed the wound and his lips travelled down, nipping and sucking, until his tongue circled my clit.

As the pleasure surged through me, yet again, I felt the handle of the sai, cold and hard, press inside my throbbing slit. I was telling him to do these things, controlling him through the channel he had used to control me. My power wasn’t simply feeding him, but me as well. I tried not to allow any thoughts to break the spell, I continued instructing him and wondered how far I could take it.

Cut yourself. Let me taste YOUR blood.

I stared down at him, as his eyes rose to meet mine. “Yesssss.” He wanted that, he wanted us to both get stronger. Why?

“We need to be strong to truly unite. Your body will need to be much more tenacious to handle the conception of our offspring.”

He slithered up my body before thrusting his massive cock inside my pulsing rent, drilling into me deeper and deeper until I was surging against the incredible zenith and plummeting over the edge. I screamed in my mind for him to feed me, and he did.

As he sliced his chest and leaned against my lips, he roared again, this time sounding remarkably scary, but it didn’t frighten me in the least. I had told him to do so. I was in complete command, and as I sucked the blood from his wound, I felt it through my whole body. It was incredible.

I lost control, as the combination of him around me, inside me and flowing through me, intoxicated me completely. The taste was indescribable. I felt the wound close under my tongue, and as I looked up at his face, his eyes seemed different. He lowered himself for a moment, so the his lips were just above mine.

“I feel drunk,” I grinned, unsure if he could hear my thoughts.

“I know, it will fade, little one.” He gave me a soft kiss, his softening manhood sliding out of me.

I was sure he had not cum again. “What’s the matter, Sir? Did I do something wrong?” My voice barely squeaked out as I felt him pulling back, pulling away, leaving me empty again. “Please, please don’t leave me,” I whispered.

He began to untie the scarves and I felt him and heard him willing himself not to pull back completely. I heard him telling himself that he needed me, even if that was the scariest fucking thing he’d ever realized. He couldn’t tell I was still in his head, and that was strange. If he created the connection…

Once my right hand was free, I lifted it to his cheek, “Please tell me your name. If you’re going to leave me, I should at least know your name…”

“I told you, I go by many names.” His eyes were so sad, he almost didn’t look like the same man. As he finished untying the other hand, I grabbed his face and willed him to look into my eyes. His elbows dropped to either side of my shoulders and his hands wrapped around my head, just as I wished it. I tried hard to keep myself from thinking thoughts, only commands, because I wasn’t sure when he would start reading my mind again.

“Kiss me then, Man. Fill me back up… please?”

His thoughts went to the visions of my future. …Our future. …Our children’s future. It was surreal. Everything I had imagined, everything that I had changed and created was there, in his fantasy. His eyes widened and he dropped his lips to mine.

I giggled, feeling the intoxication return with his extra-presence. I pulled him into a deep kiss, filling his mouth with my tongue, and feeling his body respond to me in a new way. One he didn’t understand. One he was helpless to fight against. I pushed him back and giggled again.

Sensing his uneasiness, I let the power flow back to him, as slowly and easily as I could. And as I did, his thoughts became very dark.

My giddiness was quickly replaced with a need to bleed for him.

“Sweet Charlene,” he said with a sigh, “I can tell you are beginning to sense the magnitude of these events. There is a problem, though. To speak metaphorically, you are still operating at too low a frequency for your destiny to be realized. We need to ratchet you up.”

“I’m ready, Sir,” I breathed.

“I’m not convinced you understand what needs to happen.”

“The vision, Sir. What price would be too high?”

“I suppose no one is ever ready,” he said.

I heard a loud clacking noise. Noise it too weak a word. Cacophony. Symphony of creaks, groans, scratches of metal on metal. I saw them come at me like tendrils of some horrid squid, the long lengths of razor wire shooting out of the walls, the floor, the ceiling – circling around my limbs, tearing my flesh. I started to scream, but before the sound could escape a length of the wire slammed across my mouth and tongue.

The agony was unbearable as the metallic, cutting tendrils circled over my breasts – ripping into my soft flesh. I saw geysers of blood shoot from my chest, spraying until the air itself seemed dark red. I whimpered as best as I could as the tendrils penetrated my pussy and then my ass.

I felt my very life slipping away, wishing that death would end this horrible pain. And then the sensations seem to grow so intense that my mind could no longer understand the overload of signals. I felt an orgasm convulse through my body. I jerked so hard that I almost ripped myself apart in the net of the razor wire. And the pain returned, followed by greater pleasure, over and over and over.

Soon I sensed a rhythm as pulse of pleasure and pain coursed through me. I felt my body vibrating, pulsating with a new power. And beyond that, I sensed that there were other bodies in me – other parts of myself being woken up by the shock to my system.

The blood continued to course through my body and shoot out into the air in ever more amazing patterns and configurations. I could see glimpses of a million possible futures and a billion possible pasts somehow encoded in the sprays of blood.

Soon I was beyond even that. I was all pleasure and pain and the pulsating rhythm.

And as quickly as it started, it stopped. The razor wire withdrew. The cuts healed. My mind returned to my body. The Man was on top of me, pushing my legs up in the air as he rutted away at me. Our bodies were soaked in my blood.

I instinctively reached my blood covered hand down to play with my throbbing clit.

“Sweet Charlene! Do you want my cum?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I whimpered.

His grunts shook the room as I felt his throbbing member pulse and pulse, over and over as his cum filling my pussy as another orgasm rocked my already exhausted body.

He dismounted and collapsed beside me. His cock still hard, still pulsing as little drops of cum continued to bubble up through his member. I took him in my mouth delighting myself in the taste of my blood and my juices mixed with his cum.

As I sucked him he drifted off to sleep. And as I curled up next to his body and slept, too, the ramifications of what had happened bloomed within me, in my mind, in my dreams.

When I woke, after what seemed like days, I instantly searched my mind before opening my eyes. Had that really happened? I sensed his presence, he was still asleep, and dreaming of the future… the one I’d shown him.

His energy was liquid and content, and I felt it bend to my will. I opened my eyes to the blood covered room and then stared at my flesh. The blood that stained the walls and sheets had absorbed into my skin. There were no marks, scars, or dried droplets. Instead, my skin looked as it never had, glowingly perfect. I wanted to wake him, to show him, but his dreams were so lovely.

I laid my head on The Man’s chest, and watched, as though I were at the movies. I felt his pleasure, at this new world we would create with our offspring.

I didn’t even know his name.

As though by command, his names appeared to me. All of them. In all of their elaborate confusion. Everything revealed itself to me at my desire.

I opened my eyes and wished the blood gone, and it disappeared. Poof. Not a single stain left.

I wished for the Sai, and it lifted from the ground next to the bed into my hand. I felt myself getting stronger still. A strength I realized now The Man had known I would obtain. But I’m sure he did not realize I would control him and our connection.

I pressed the tip of the blade against his chest and told his sleeping mind not too feel pain. As I broke the skin, he was aware that something had happened, his real face even winced, but as the blood oozed from the wound and I sucked the sweet nectar in, his dreams became filled with lust and sadistic violence.

Yes, wake my dark Sir, do those things to me.

As his eyes fluttered open, he realized what I had done, just before the wound drew closed. I felt his fear. I felt his realization.

“How are you doing this, little girl? How could you possibly steal my strength?”

Feeling drunk again, from consuming his essence, I giggled and climbed on top of him.

“Oh, sir, you truly have nothing to fear from me. I need you as you need me. I’m using your strength, but only borrowing it. It’s still yours. It belongs to you. You thought in taking my power, it would make you a king. You believed the future would be yours. But… it is ours. ”

I rose, straddling him, and pulling his blue smoke to surround us. I commanded it wrap in fingerlike tendrils around me – my neck, my breasts, arms, wrists and thighs. He watched as the smoke changed and became solid. The fleshy, vine like strands danced around my pussy, darting in and out, making me wet and pulling at my arms, nipples, throat… I winced at the pain of it. I continued, using my own power to hurt myself, because the pain and pleasure were the keys.

His dark and glorious laugh filled the room. He still did not fully comprehend. “You don’t seem to have the control you believe you do. Perhaps you should return the power to me, sweet Charlene?”

As he finished the statement, all motion stopped. I glared down at him as the blue tendrils released me and lifted into the air, surrounding him like a dozen pointed veins. His face changed, and his fear excited me.

I didn’t lose strength from his fear as he did with mine. I sent my magic to wrap around him and penetrate him, the way he had used the smoke on me. The tendrils stroked and held him, he watched them anxiously, before succumbing to their pleasure.

“I’m in far more control than you, Sir. I understand these powers in a way you do not. I do not wish to become a ruler, but to create the new world. You will not be king, my dark sadist, but perhaps your children or grandchildren will. Can you be trusted to remain at my side? To assist me in teaching them? Or will you always try to take my power to use it for yourself?”

His face was filled with pleasure, pain, confusion and frustration. I closed my eyes and the blue magic disappeared. I lowered myself to lie on his chest. I stopped controlling him, so that he might have a clear head, but lifted my hands to his face and hair. I kissed his lips softly, while he stared at me, bewildered.

“Why are you willing to share? You’re clearly stronger than me, why wouldn’t you just kill me?” His voice was so low, his eyes, so much darker than they’d been, his heart truly full of fear.

“You needed a human for a reason, Sir. Just as that human would always need you. I recognize this. And killing you serves no purpose. Without your presence, I would become that sad, empty girl I was, again. Without my presence, you would always be seeking that power that strengthens you.

“If you promise not to lose site of the future, the end goal, I will submit to you always, my dark Sir. My power will continue to be your strength. That is what I truly want. An infinite lifetime of pleasure, …for both of us.”

As I bent to kiss him, I felt his thoughts and emotions, I felt his fear, but I allowed him to work through it. I felt his desire. He more than wanted me, he was unsure he could live without me.

I rolled off, to his side and laid my ear against his chest. He had a heart, like a real man, but it did not sound quite the same. I concentrated on syncing my own to his. Closing my eyes, I manipulated my own human heartbeat until it fell in pace with his.

I felt him shift, and I opened my eyes, face to face with his fiery golden irises. Wide, and questioning, he slipped his fingers around my face. “Why did you do that?” His voice was quiet and deep, but wavered slightly.

“To see if I could… Because it felt like you needed me, but in a way you still won’t believe.” I stroked his cheek and filled his mind with the visions.

Let go of the future you expected. Promise me. Accept my submission. We can enjoy the fruits of our union for eternity. You chose me for a reason.

He looked at me with a sort of half smile and whispered, “You’re asking me accept your submission. But you’re telling me to submit.”

I laughed, “Our children will never know the difference.”

He rolled me onto my back, covering my body with his and whispered, darkly, “As long as I get to be in control of this,” he held my wrists in one hand above my head, then slid his other between us, between my legs, and held my pussy, thrusting his middle fingers inside me. “And you never subject me to that tentacle shit again,” he let go, spread my legs and drilled into me with his huge erection. “I will submit to your submission.”

Pearl necklace

Candlelight, oil, cinnamon and fingertips,
I create relaxation and some unnecessary romance.

I glide over every muscle, soothing every ache,
then ask you to turn so I can finish the dance.

I tease and taunt, the way you love,
then I stroke and lick, to really pleasure.

I twist and twirl, suck and swirl,
working hard for that taste I treasure.

You push and pull, taking control,
but you still hold back, savoring my whimper.

Then you pull me up and slam my hips down,
groaning then chuckling as you listen to me simper.

You have found your power, either in my touch or patience,
but I revel in it, pressing and squeezing, obeying every command.

My arms are raised, the push and pull of my hips,
you respond with new orders, insistence in your hand.

Moaning and writhing, seething and screaming,
my body gives way to your perfect design.

You force and coerce, drawing as much as you can,
until finally, my liquid limbs compel me to resign.

I fall to my side, breathless and out of my mind,
but you are not finished, completion unmet.

You turn to torture my pink pebbled points,
taking out your dissatisfaction on those two sweet summits.

My fingers attempt to please, but cannot manage a pace,
so you rise up above me, and I prepare my lips.

But you surprise me by straddling my chest,
forcing your throbbing cock between my tits.

You require me to hold them, and pinch my nipples tight,
while you slide between my breasts, dominating them completely.

It doesn’t take long, the pleasure so exquisite,
before you’re pulsing, climaxing, cumming so repletely.

Your fluffy white seed squirts across my throat,
coating my collarbone but missing my face.

And as you back down, you smile at me sweetly,
“You are lovely, my dear, wearing my pearl necklace.”