Tag Archive | m/f

Escape: Volume Two now available at Smashwords and Amazon!

Escape, Volume Two

 Geneva and Stephen are changelings: humans transformed by the power of Faerie, on the run from the Fae Lord who stole them away from the mortal world.

In this second installment of their story, Geneva and Stephen learn more about the strange borderland they now occupy, and gain new traveling companions: a malevolent animated puppet, a lusty pixie and Clybourn, a man who was once as they were– human– but far, far older. While navigating strange new bargains, powerful talismans and the puppet Punch’s foul sense of humor, they also rediscover the heated and dangerous intimacy they shared covertly under their master.

This is a novella sequel of modern fantasy, darkness, danger, romance, sex, and perhaps even love. It is intended for audiences who appreciate dark humor, erotic adult situations and above all else, a good story.

Available for purchase at Smashwords or Amazon.


Erotic BDSM romance, Discipline, now live on Amazon and Smashwords!

Discipline Discipline, an erotic romance/BDSM novella, is now available on Amazon.com and Smashwords!

What happens when a lifestyle submissive who’s lost her husband-owner of many years and a novice dominant who hasn’t yet found his stride in the scene meet?

When Caroline is approached by Joshua with an unusual proposition, she hesitates– she hasn’t scened with anyone other than her late husband since before she was married, and she’s only just set aside her grief over losing her chosen master. But she can’t deny that there’s something endearing about Joshua, and there’s an itch that she hasn’t been able to scratch in years, one that he might be able to satisfy.

Is she ready, though? And is she able to teach from the bottom, when it’s nearly impossible to fight the temptation to sink into sub space? After their first disastrous attempt, her best friend Lisa doesn’t think so and Caroline isn’t sure that Joshua will even want to try again.

But Caroline is nothing if not stubborn and besides… she really, really wants to make it up to the man who set her nerves on fire before it all went wrong.

Discipline is a novelette of over twelve thousand words, a story without billionaire dominants but with plenty of BDSM. If you enjoy or are curious about power exchange, and if you like mixing your pleasure with pain, this is the book for you!

“Discipline” coming soon!

My faithful readers have waited long enough! Soon I’ll have my next story finished and I, for one, have to say that it’s about time. I get antsy if I go for too long without publishing something for you fine folks, but at the same time I want to make sure that what is out there under my name is worth the price of purchase.

I’m getting there!

Introducing Discipline, a novelette about a lifestyle submissive who’s lost her husband-owner of many years and a novice dominant who hasn’t yet found his stride in the scene. When Caroline is approached by Joshua with an unusual proposition, she hesitates– she hasn’t scened with anyone since before she was married, and she’s only just set aside her grief over losing her owner and husband. But she can’t deny that there’s something endearing about Joshua, and there’s an itch that she hasn’t been able to scratch in years, one that he might be able to satisfy.

Is she ready, though? And is she able to teach from the bottom, when it’s nearly impossible to fight the temptation to sink into sub space? After their first disastrous attempt, her best friend Lisa doesn’t think so and Caroline isn’t sure that Joshua will even want to try again.

But Caroline is nothing if not stubborn and besides… she really, really wants to make it up to the man who set her nerves on fire before it all went sideways.


“Flash: A Collection of Erotic Shorts” now available on Smashwords and Amazon!

Flash: A Collection of Erotic ShortsIt’s finished! Whew! You can find it for sampling or purchase on Amazon.com or Smashwords now!


A TV anchorwoman is abducted and held captive by a mysterious man who professes feelings for her, but who seems to draw strength from her suffering. As the last days of high school trickle away, a geek gets lucky in the back of his friend’s car. Two strangers play a game of exhibition and arousal on a crowded subway train. A young wife pleads for her husband’s job with the manager of a taxi company, and ends up buying his cooperation with her own body.

Flash is a collection of four short stories, together totaling over 6000 words, that showcase erotic topics from sweet to spicy, pleasurable to painful. Whether you prefer to savor slowly or consume all at once, there’s something for everyone in this erotically charged collection.

Progress! Also another excerpt.

Guess what’s finished? That’s right! Flash is done! Mostly done, at least. I need to do some formatting work on it to figure out how I can add a table of contents without slapping on “Chapter One”, “Chapter Two”, etc., in front of each mini-story’s title. And then I’ll need to sneak that by the meatgrinder at Smashwords.

I can do this. I think.

Once I have that done, I can return to working on Sweet’s Dove, which is turning out to be less about dear Lucy meeting the laconic Sweet and falling in love, and more about Lucy’s own evolution, from the time she enters Judge Taylor’s household, to her joining the Boston bordello, The Graces. And then, hopefully, she will move out West to fall in love with Sweet, because stop hijacking my stories, brain. I had this one plotted out! Now you’re changing it!

On the bright side, it looks like this will mean a longer story and it also means I get to dip into some of my favorite erotic subjects, such as forced sex, attempts at forced orgasm, and dubious- and non-consent. Right now I’m in the middle of a scene where Judge Taylor has gotten his sweaty hands on some French tintypes to demonstrate to Lucy the proper oral technique.

Things are going to get steamy.

Seriously, check it out:

He held in his hands what looked like a large deck of cards. “I have brought you a present, Lucy.”

The Judge had only ever given me torment; I could only view any gift he might offer with wariness. So I remained silent and waited for him to fall on me. Instead, he sat beside me on the bed and spread the stiff cards so I could see their faces.

They were not cards after all but tintypes, wrapped in paper mats. The soft brown images were not the stiff portraits I was accustomed to seeing, but rather showed women in assorted poses, with varying degrees of nakedness. As Judge Taylor sifted through the pile, I was subjected to the sight of fleshy breasts, rounded bellies, gracefully curved and raised arms, with thick thatches of hair in the creases of each body.

I caught my breath and shut my eyes but he would not have it– I had not seen everything he wished me to see. His hand closed on my shoulder and pinched hard until I was forced to look again.

There, directly before my nose, was a different portrait. A man was standing naked below the waist, his shoulders and head cropped from the image. He possessed the same instrument my master had wielded on me, but his was inserted partially into the mouth of the girl who knelt before him, her hair unbound below her hips. Her eyes were closed, as I wished mine were, and there were words inscribed in the corner, fancy and flowing words. I, who could hardly read English, knew them to be in a foreign language. French, I supposed. It was known that the French were the most degenerate of the races.

“Do you see, Lucy?” The Judge shifted his hand from my shoulder to my chin, as if to help me direct my eyes. There was to be no glancing away; my entire field of vision was filled with that obscene coupling.

I thought I could detect, even in dull shades of sepia, the glimmer of moisture that her mouth must have left on that organ. I had never seen one so clearly and was grateful for the blurriness of the image– or I tried to be grateful. Beneath the thin cotton of my chemise, I could feel a heat gathering, the prickle of sweat or worse where my thighs pressed together. Traitorous body, to react to this. I could only hope that the Judge took my stiffness for disapproval.

“Do you see?” he repeated, and released my chin to seek the hands I had folded nervously in my lap. Seizing one, he pressed it to the buttons of his trousers. Before I could close my fingers against him, he had shaped my palm to the thickness that grew beneath. “Take me out.”

I knew better than to protest. Fumbling one-handed, I undid the buttons that kept the thin wool fastened and parted the layers of his underclothing to expose his flesh to the open air. And, because I also knew he expected it of me, I let my fingers curl loosely around his shaft. I tried to ignore the delicate weave of veins against my skin but every time he twitched with excitement, they printed themselves against my palm and fingers.

His hand returned to my shoulder and through pressure, made it clear he expected me to kneel as the girl in the tintype was doing. Oh God, I thought, save me from this indignity. Save me from this, and don’t punish me for the water filling my mouth. I cannot help it, please.

(See? I told you so. Look for Flash: A Collection of Erotic Shorts very, very soon!)

“In the Back Seat” – A Piece from Flash: The Collection!

Flash: A Collection of Erotic ShortsI’ve been talking about this one for weeks and weeks– a collection of erotic flash fiction for your reading pleasure, with subjects ranging from voyeurism and exhibitionism to S&M to sexual awakenings, everything from sweet to sharp. Flash: A Collection of Erotic Shorts will be ready for publication next week but I thought it was high time I posted a little something to whet the appetite!

So do please enjoy this full sample of  one of the pieces in the collection, “In the Back Seat”. It’s still in the revision process so some of the details may change in the final version, but have fun taking a peek behind the curtain!

In the Back Seat

Her name was Amy Lin, and she was out of Evan’s league. The fringe of her black hair was dyed pink and she had a little silver piercing in her nose. Evan was lanky and soft from too many hours in the basement in front of his Xbox. It was plain to see that they shouldn’t be out together.

But Evan’s friend Steve was in a band, and had a girlfriend, and she wanted someone to talk to on their date. So she’d brought her friend Amy along, and Evan’s friend had brought Evan, and now Amy Lin was sleeping against his shoulder in the back seat of Steve’s hand-me-down Impala.

Steve and his girlfriend were in the 7-11, trying to buy more wine coolers. By the light from the store windows, Evan could see down Amy’s Riot Girl tank top; her breasts rose and fell beneath a black satin bra. She wore cut-off jeans that showed most of her thighs, ripe and prickled with sweat from the summer heat. Evan thought of the peaches under the misters in the grocery store.

Her breath cooled and tickled his neck each time she exhaled. She smelled of cinnamon.

Evan tried to sit calmly, as he thought he should. He forced himself to look straight ahead, through the windshield at the shoppers in the store. But there was still her scent, her warmth, the soft sound of her breathing. He could think of nothing else.

With a murmur, Amy shifted in her sleep. She turned her hips and put her leg over his thigh. Evan’s erection rose until it strained the crotch of his jeans.

Her knee was right there. He had to calm himself.

“Are we home?” Amy mumbled.

Evan held his breath, then said, “We’re at the 7-11. Steve and Mandy are inside.” He swallowed. “They’ll be back soon.”

She hadn’t moved away. Her breath still curled against his neck, more quickly now that she was waking.

“Mm.” For a moment Amy said nothing, then, “Have you and Steve been friends long?”

“Since middle school.”

“That’s funny. He’s so into music.” And Evan wasn’t. He wondered if he should be offended, but Amy Lin was stretching her back, and her knee brushed the head of his cock through the denim.

“Well he wasn’t always.”

Amy moved her leg over his, absently, nudging his cock again.

“What did you use to do together?”

The touch of Amy’s knee was electric. Evan struggled not to move his hips. Without thinking, he said, “Dungeons and Dragons.”

“The nerd game?” Amusement.

“Yeah. The nerd game.”

“I should tell Mandy.”

Evan sighed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. People are different when they grow up. In a couple of weeks we’ll all go off to college and we can close the book on high school.”

“Mm… it doesn’t sound like you’ve had a lot of fun,” she murmured, close to his ear. He found her amusement hard to define now. Amy’s smooth, bare thigh rubbed back and forth over his, just slowly enough to be unconscious, but Evan was almost certain that she was rolling his erection under her knee.

He drew an unsteady breath. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “Dungeons and Dragons is a great game.”

Amy Lin giggled. “That’s not what I meant,” she whispered. And then she licked Evan’s earlobe into her mouth.

Evan’s hips would have come up out of the seat, but she held him down with her leg wrapped over his. While she chewed on his ear, Amy opened Evan’s jeans, pushed her hand inside and jerked the shaft of his cock until he was panting, eyes tightly closed. Her fingers were surprisingly strong. His organ trembled but he fought the fierce rush of excitement. He’d never been with a girl before; he didn’t want his first time to be coming on Amy Lin’s hand.

Then she took his wrist and guided his hand to her waist. He found her jean shorts unbuttoned, the teeth of her zipper open halfway down. Trembling with excitement, Evan put his hand between Amy’s legs; he felt the taut satin of her panties, then her stiff, black pubic hair, and finally the convolutions of her sex like some humid and alien flower.

Amy bit Evan’s earlobe so hard it hurt, then eagerly mouthed his neck. He tried rubbing her pussy and marveled inwardly at the way she made his fingers wet, the way her perfect hips jumped every time he stroked her close to her curls. She began to breathe quickly and finally whispered between kisses, “Oh… oh fuck…”

Suddenly she pushed Evan back and wrenched down his underwear until it made a snug band beneath his balls. His cock sprang up, swollen and beaded with pre-come that glistened like dew in the fluorescent light from the convenience store. He had no time to be embarrassed before Amy’s mouth fell on him.

It was exquisite. Her lips sank down his shaft and then she dragged them back, touching every inch of him, leaving him slick. Amy’s pink hair shone every time her head bobbed up between the front seats.

Evan saw her hand in her panties, squirming under the satin. The wet sound of her sucking was broken by feminine moans that quivered around his prick.

It was too much.

Evan’s body arched. His face contorted. One hand clawed the air wildly over Amy’s head, never quite grasping her hair. He shoved his hips against her face. Evan gave a deep groan; his cock bucked and spewed hot into Amy’s mouth.

When the spasms eased, Amy Lin sucked him clean.

Then she sat up and flashed him a wicked little grin, fastening her jean shorts. After a moment, with fumbling fingers, Evan did the same.

Neither of them spoke.

At last Evan said, “So. Where are you going to college?”


“In New York?”

“No, the other Columbia.”


Steven and Mandy came back without wine coolers. Amy Lin never talked about what had happened, but on the ride home– in the summer dark– she held Evan’s hand.

He never forgot that.



Chapter 1 of “Nephilim”, for your reading pleasure.

I came awake in a white room. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, all painted the same matte shade. The sheet tucked over my body was white. Even the bed’s headboard had been lacquered with white. The only break in the color scheme came from my skin. A moment later, I realized that the the gun-metal grey handcuffs broke the scheme as well. One was snapped around each of my wrists. My arms were spread wide, my hands pinned to the bars; I was naked under the bedclothes. There were no windows and only one door.

I had maybe fifteen minutes to myself, time spent panicking, kicking off the sheet and chafing my wrists, before the man stepped into the room. My kicking had left me exposed, which I immediately regretted.

He was carrying a tray and smiling at me in the way men do when they have a line of bullshit to feed you. Bullshit and oatmeal, apparently. The steam curling from the bowl on the tray smelled strongly of artificial peaches and cream. The cheap stuff that came in paper packets, its weight half flavor powder and half oats.

I tracked his progress to the bed. He sat on the edge, the tray across his thighs, and looked back at me. Bright as sunshine, as if I weren’t twisted awkwardly onto my side with one shoulder straining and my knees clamped together.

Good morning, pet. You slept well?”

Being naked in front of a stranger that increased my sense of vulnerability; I could only imagine that he’d planned just that. Even if I weren’t handcuffed and in a strange room with no memory of how I came to be there, I think I would have still wanted to remain curled up and motionless, protecting myself as best I could. He was dressed well; dark slacks, a buttoned up shirt with the sleeves rolled up onto well-muscled forearms. The contrast between us, naked and frightened versus dressed and comfortable, was chilling.

Where am I?” I squeezed the question through a throat gone tight.

He chuckled. “You’re where you need to be.”

That wasn’t good enough but before I could throw more questions at him, he reached for the spoon on the tray and scooped up a bite of oatmeal. It was presented to me. The too-sweet smell of it turned my stomach.

I set my lips against the offering and the man raised his eyebrows at me. Then he flicked the spoon and steaming hot oatmeal spattered against my hip, my thigh, my waist.

I screamed and bucked against the mattress, twisting my body to try to rub those burning spots against the sheets. It stuck to me like napalm and before I could scrape it all off with my contortions, he was on top of me. His hand closed over my throat and squeezed. With his thumb over my carotid, it took only seconds before my vision began to dance, touched by sparkling points of light. Panic set in; my struggles briefly grew more violent. It was only when I began to black out and stop my thrashing that he let up on the pressure against my neck. I gasped for air.

I could still distantly feel his body pressed against mine. His clothes were expensive; they whispered against my skin without scratching; they shared the warmth of his body. He smelled like aftershave, like upscale cologne; his breath still had a hint of mint on it from his toothpaste. As I sucked in larger breaths, he dipped his head to nuzzle at the angle of my jaw and I picked up the scent then.

When I give you food, little girl,” he murmured, “you eat it. When I give you something to drink, you swallow it.” Teeth scraped at my throat and I heard myself moaning, my voice made hoarse by his treatment of me. “You take what I give you and you do what I say. Do you understand?”

When I didn’t answer him immediately, his hand began to close on my throat again. My back spasmed and I arched up against him. “Yes!” I croaked. “Yes! I understand!”

Good.” He sounded pleased but made no move to get off of me. Instead he began to tease my hair back from my face and returned to nuzzle my neck, my ear. I could feel his erection against my thigh. It was hot and heavy; he felt huge even through the barrier of his pants. I wanted to squirm away from it but didn’t dare, even when he tensed his buttocks and ground against me to tease himself.

You have so many questions, I know. But I’ll answer them all in good time. My time. You’re mine, you always have been, you just didn’t know it.”

His finger pushed at my lips. I resisted it at first, gritting my teeth. But my throat still ached and my head was pounding. The discomfort reminded me of how helpless I was and I relaxed my jaw. The first knuckle of that digit slipped into my mouth, nudged at my tongue. With the pad of his finger moistened, he ran it over my lips to gloss them with my own spit.

I couldn’t help myself; I began to shake.

Shhh,” he murmured, “shh. It’s going to be all right. You’re where you belong, little girl. You’re finally home. Haven’t you always known you were different? You’re so special. So needed.”

He punctuated each sentence with another thrust of his hips. Unlike the choking, that rhythmic pressure was almost gentle. His cock was trapped against the inside of my left thigh and each push reminded me of how close he was to my naked sex. I could feel heat prickling over my skin, washing over my entire body in a wave. Not all of it came from being blanketed by a larger body; I knew I was beginning to react in other ways. Ways I couldn’t help.

Another whimper escaped me.

His mouth found my ear again and his tongue curled around the lobe, as hot and wet as I knew I’d soon be. It was my weak spot, always has been. You can kiss my breasts, my belly, my thighs, even go down on me but I’ll always react strongest to having my neck and ear teased by a mouth. It took everything I had not to squirm but I knew he could feel my trembling anyway. As I tensed my arms and tried to stiffen up to hide it, the handcuffs dug into my wrists and clinked against the bars.

Between kisses, while he dipped the tip of his tongue into the recesses of my ear, the man continued to whisper to me.

I’m going to tell you a story. It’s a very old story. A lot of people think they know it but they always get it wrong. They weren’t there, they don’t know. But I was. I was there when it all started and in a way, dearest, so were you.”

His teeth caught at my earlobe and I was surprised into gasping. As he chuckled again, I squeezed my eyes shut. There was no shutting him out though. Not his voice, not his smell and certainly not his weight on me.

Please,” I whispered.

It wasn’t a request but he seemed to take it as one. His hips lifted and pushed against my legs, forcing them wider so he could fit himself between them. Positioned that way, he could line up the trapped arc of his cock against my slit. The hand he’d used to shut off my air slid down my chest and his palm curled over my breast. He was so hot, unnaturally hot. I could feel his palm burning against my nipple; it felt like sunbathing at high noon, except all of that heat and light was focused on a tiny patch of my skin. A sensitive patch.

A long time ago, I was a servant,” he told me as he kneaded the softness of my breast in his palm. “You could say I was made for it. Born for it. There were so many of us. But the one who made us wasn’t satisfied and so he made others.”

The man paused there and pushed his hips forward again. If he’d been naked, the pressure and friction would have been softer against tender bits. Instead I felt his zipper grinding against my pussy lips. It wasn’t my imagination; they’d begun to swell and grow softer. In that state, they offered no protection and eased apart when he rocked against me. This opened up my inner lips to his friction. Worse, it exposed my clit. Its hood provided some cover but as the fabric of his pants caught at me, I could feel it being tugged up. Pushed back, exposing that little nub.

I could feel myself getting wet.

Apparently, so could he. “That’s it, pet. You like this, don’t you? Not being able to move, while I move against you. Ahh…just like that. Yes.”

There was nothing I could do but suffer it. Suffer it, and not answer him as best I could. Not that he seemed to notice. Or maybe he thought all of the answer he needed was to be found in my body’s responses to him. He continued.

Those of us who served first had never seen anything like those he made afterward. They were beautiful. So soft, so tender. Looking at them, it was all you could do not to want to touch them. We resisted for so long but finally we gave into that need. Some of us went to them.”

His hand shifted against my breast. Before I could draw a breath, he’d caught my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I knew what was coming but even braced against it, the pain when he pinched down hard was electrifying. I gasped and bucked against him, trying to escape it, but he bore down harder and harder. Hard enough that my gasp became a whine and then a scream. Such a small thing, to hurt so much. It sizzled through me, through all of my nerves until I couldn’t breathe.

Even when he let go, the ache lingered.

We’d never experienced anything like it. They felt everything so strongly,” he murmured, a smile in his voice. “So we went back, again and again. We weren’t as careful as we should have been, but by the time our creator realized what was happening, it was too late. We were no longer innocent. None of us were. And when the children came, we were not inclined to service.”

The story made as little sense to me as my presence there. I didn’t understand it.

Please,” I begged him. I’d started crying at some point; I wasn’t sure when. “Please don’t do this.”

Ahh.” The pad of his thumb brushed over my cheek and then over my lips again, wetting them with the salt of my own tears. “It’s all right. You’ll understand soon,” he said as if he knew my thoughts.

His lips found my throat and the tip of his tongue probed my skin. “When we were discovered, we were punished, of course. Cast out. Some of us decided to protest that, to try to return. Some of us fought to protect our families. He wanted to destroy them because those first children were dangerous. Too big, too wild, too unpredictable…those bloodlines were never meant to be mixed. They threatened everything else that had been made. So I didn’t fight. I took my wives and my children and I found a place to hide. Where we could live in peace together. Or try to.”

The man had begun to rock against me again. To my horror, though my breast still tingled and ached, though my throat was still sore from his treatment of me, I found myself moving with him. Instead of remaining tense, my hips shifted and my thighs softened.

I began to cry again.

They were dangerous. My sons, my daughters. I had to destroy some of them myself. But there were others I could contain and so I did. We lived for a time like that. A family. Then, as my wives grew older and died, I realized that soon I would be left alone, but for these mad, broken offspring. And that’s when it came to me.”

I could feel his smile pressed against my skin, his lips curved, the threat of teeth just behind them.

They were mad and broken because the blood was too strong. My blood. But if they had too much of their mothers in them, they were…less. Weak, bland as unsalted bread. They needed to be refined. A little of their mothers, a little of me. Never both at the same time but with careful breeding…they call it line breeding, these days. It’s a little like forging the strongest steel over generations. And I had the time for that. The patience.”

Mad. Broken. If he was describing anything, it was himself. Anyone who’d steal another person off of the street– or had he taken me from my home? God, I couldn’t remember, why couldn’t I remember?– was going to be insane. But it only hit me then just how insane my captor was. I was being held by a madman who thought he was…what? An angel? I’d never been a regular at church but what little I knew about religion, about old stories, seemed to confirm that hypothesis.

It was not reassuring, to have a hypothesis.

His hand trailed down my neck, my chest, my stomach. I stiffened, thinking he was going to touch me between my legs and gloat over how wet I’d become. He didn’t. Instead, he thumbed free the button of his pants and drew down his zipper.

That was worse than a touch, or gloating. As he freed his cock, I could feel its heat. Its size. It sprang free and drooped against my mound, heavy and unyielding. I imagined I could feel the veins running along it, the way the velvet skin that sheathed its length shifted as he rubbed its underside through my thatch of curls. I’d always loved that feeling, before.

I could feel a part of me still enjoying it on a visceral level. Its texture, its weight.

A madman was going to fuck me and I didn’t dare struggle. Even if I did, it wouldn’t have made a difference. He was too heavy and strong, the handcuffs were too tight.

He drew his hips back and the knob that crowned the shaft bumped against the tendon of my inner thigh, leaving a smear of wetness behind it. It nudged my thigh and painted the skin there in pre-cum. Another nudge pushed him against the hollow between my thigh and my swollen outer lip. He paused there, no doubt happy to let me feel the threat. To feel how close he was to my entrance, which felt tight and engorged and absolutely drenched. My clit was throbbing, a tiny but powerful pulse inside of it echoing my own racing heartbeat.

Over the years, I watched over my brood,” he whispered as he leaned onto his elbow and reached down to take himself in hand. He repositioned himself again and began to drag the head of his organ through my slit. From bottom to top and then down again, every time that broad, thick surface caught my clit, I felt myself jump.

The handcuffs chimed again as I twisted my hands and gripped the bars, myself. I didn’t need that restraint anymore; I clung for myself.

I kept them safe. I let them breed with others for one generation, maybe two, and then I would appear and sweep one of my girls off of her feet. You love so easily, all of you. That’s part of your charm.”

He caught my clit again. And again. I couldn’t stop the way my hips were rocking now, to chase that friction. The pain he’d given me was rapidly fading, replaced with pleasure. With wanting. I whimpered to realize it but he had me now. He had me wanting him. Wanting this.

Worse, he had me listening and wanting to hear what he would say next.

My captor didn’t disappoint.

Even as the head parted the fragile tissues of my sex, as he eased himself so carefully into my body, he whispered, “At first, I only thought to make something worthy of myself. A true partner. But as the years went by, so many years, I realized what I was truly doing. I was creating. He had created us but I was creating something new. A perfect being that was more than either of his servant races. Something new, and better than all of us. I could see it, flashes of that brilliance through the years. But it was never quite right. My blood was too diluted, or too strong. I kept at it though…ahhh.”

He paused as he sheathed himself fully within me. I could feel the crinkle of his pubic hair tangling with mine, could feel the silky weight of his ball sack resting against my perineum. When he inhaled, I could feel his cock twitch inside of me and I felt my cunt spasm in answer, clenching around him.

We fit perfectly together. He was large but not too large, thicker than he was long. He filled me completely.

And then he began to move. Now when he spoke, his low calm tones were broken with exertion and arousal.

Haven’t you always known you were different?” he asked me, his voice guttural. It was true, I had. I had always had the sense that I was separate and apart from the people around me. Not for any reason I could put my finger on. It was something that had kept me separate in my life. I was a loner and an introvert, and happy to be that way. But I didn’t answer him. Why encourage his delusions? Everyone thinks they’re different. Special.

Besides, it was growing more difficult to think. I was not a woman who’d ever been able to climax from vaginal penetration alone but as he stroked his full length in and out of my cunt, I began to feel the same tingling tightness that came from having my clit played with. I could feel pleasure gathering between my legs like a knot made by twisting a cord between your fingers.

When I opened my eyes, his were right there, blazing at me. Looking into me. I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t escape him. I began to pant, to make soft mewling sounds deep in my throat. It was too much.

He took it as a signal to quicken his pace and he began to fuck me in earnest, his pelvis slapping against mine. His hand slid from my hip to my throat and I could feel his fingers pressing in. Just a little, just enough to make my vision sparkle again. The threat of losing my air caused me to lift my chin up as I tried to take a deeper breath; he met that movement with a probing kiss.

When the kiss broke, he kept his lips against mine and continued his story. “Fifty years ago, I fucked my daughter, thirty-five years ago I fucked her daughter. Nngh…and now…ah, little girl. You’re going to be so beautiful. So perfect. My perfect little girl.”

His hand closed hard on my neck, closing off my air. I thrashed but couldn’t shake him off. A black fog began to creep into the edges of my vision even as the tension in my belly rose and rose.

Come for me, daughter,” the man whispered.

Unable to breathe, with my body and mind screaming for oxygen, I came in a shuddering splendor for him, squeezing around him with terrifying strength.


At the gripping liquid peak of my orgasm, I blacked out.