The Run

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It goes like this.

This pretty little thing of eighteen – dressed in a black sundress that runs to her knees, laced with a sunflower print – runs through the forest in the middle of the night, the long grass lashing at her legs, the wind hitting the sweat on her forehead, the tree branches with its gnarled fingers whipping her legs.

There’s a hole torn in her dress, where her stomach is, where he grabbed at her when she tried to run from his kiss.

He was after her – had asked her to come around the side of the house, away from the party, to talk. James, her oldest friend, the one who sat with her on the swing-set at summer camp and listened to her talk about her boyfriend woes back in the seventh grade.

Now they were eighteen and at a friend of a friend’s party twenty minutes out of town in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. Away from the house was where he had tried to kiss her forcefully, his lips wet, and the kiss eager.

Emily had slapped him away, had seen the shock in his eyes as he reeled backwards, but then she had something else in those eyes. Madness, a look possessed. Shock morphed into delight, a devilish grin. He grabbed, tearing that hole in her dress, and she ran.

When she pauses to catch her breath, her lungs working overtime, he catches her, throwing her to the ground. She doesn’t have the time to react; she’s down on her aching back, dizzy, breathless, lost on where she is.

His full weight is upon her, his dirty hands lifting her dress, exposing her black lacy boylegs – bought just this afternoon – to the forest. She can feel the cool wind.

She opens her mouth to scream but only a strangled whimper comes loose and she thinks through all this – how pathetic am I?

As she kicks her legs and wriggles beneath him, he’s peeling her panties down with a speed she didn’t know he possessed. He dodges her bare dirty legs, throws the lacy clump aside.

She sounds like a wounded animal as she tries to speak, tries to reason, tries to swat his hands away from peeling the straps of her dress off her slender pale shoulders but it’s all for naught. The energy, her lungs, is rebooting herself from underneath him.

As the dress peels back and her bare tits are let loose, she tries to reason that he’s drunk, that this isn’t the sweet tender James, but she can’t smell any alcohol, only sweat. She licks her lips, tastes the saltiness from the run, the bitterness of dirt.

He throws away her dress with a grunt; it falls in a tangle across the shrub. She lies there, completely naked, on her back, blinking back tears, fighting confusion and madness as she watches James peel off his jeans, exposing his hard cock coated in precum that glistens in the moonlight.

With a steady hand, he grips her thigh – then she feels his stomach press against her, feels his cock stretch her apart and go deeper. She feels a wave of sickness crash over, a spiral of manic energy sweeping across her body like goosebumps.

She chokes out his name but pain erupts through her body, his mouth is on her flesh, clenching her nipple in his mouth.

He’s speaking through his clenched teeth, a mad man speaking in alliteration under his breath.

She’s there but not there, out of mind, out of sight. Watching this happening, finding her glistening pale body, secreted somehow, marked by the forest, belonging to the forest, as he fucks her.

Their bodies find their rhythm. Her body finds the rhythm. They’re suddenly moving, swaying, as one entity. She’s not herself, or maybe she is and she never realised this, that she was, that she could enjoy, that she could belong.

His teeth sink into her neck paralysing her, locking her body into place. She feels her legs stiffen, hears herself as he slips out of her thrusting against her thigh, humping thin air.

She grunts in frustration.

With a growl, she flips him over so that he’s off her, on her back. He watches her, and for a moment she sees a bewilderment in those eyes, can see him, the real him, the sweetest James. His eyes are glassy.

She’s sitting on him now, her legs on either side of him, his cock against her stomach.

Not breaking eye contact, she grabs his cock by the head and forces it down between her. It slides back in with ease.

She can feel him fill her again and something screams inside her, a burning intensity to not stop, because nothing could stop her, nothing at all. This confuses her, makes her feel ill. She wonders if she will vomit, all over him, embarrassing her and the forest. Nothing comes.

She can feel this drive within her, it worms its way across her veins, it possesses her arm, her hand, to pinch her nipples tightly and pull them out. Her desire to feel his cock all the way inside her before ripping it out along her slit is insatiable. SHE is insatiable. An insatiable fucking slut of a girl.

There’s something around her, around them, in the forest. She can’t see it, can’t explain it, but something is there, something is watching the two of them, something is feeding off the two of them, chanting to them in the same maddened vein James was earlier.

The world around her is spinning and she’s caught up in it, up in this delirious and dizzying nightmare of pleasure she can’t wake from.

He pushes her off and she fall backwards, emitting something between a sulk and a moan. In a blur of movement, he whips her around so that she’s on all fours and grips her hips.

He eases into her ass.

It’s unlike anything she’s experienced.

She’s trapped in a dimension of pleasure and pain.

An anal doll.

They scream as one and the forest screams with them.

Surrender

He was completely out of his element, a Dominant on his back, nude with his hands linked above his head.

Everything in his burning hot body told him to run, to get out of there and never look back, but something intrigued him to come, to undress before this Dominant.

For years he had looked at women, had desired them with all the fire provided by Hades. So when he looked at the completely shaven cock of the Dominant before him, stiff and throbbing at the edge of the bed, he wondered where this had come from, this aching, this hunger?

He didn’t just look at this Cock and desire it, though his mouth had watered curiously, no – he thought it Beautiful, was puzzled by its beauty to him. He didn’t just want to put his mouth over it, he wanted to savour the taste. To feel the veins in its shaft ache on his lips, on his tongue. And what did come taste like?

He felt new and stupid, lying here.

‘Get over here’ he wanted to say. ‘I want this right now’

But that was what he gave up tonight, just to try. And something about it felt wild in a way that quickened his heart.

The man before him, slightly slim, slightly muscular, regarded him with a cruelty, a sadistic smile. No, a smirk. Teasing. He lowered himself over him, letting his cock brush his own.

Down came his mouth, planting a kiss on his thigh, then lower across to the base of his cock. Tingles. Things he never felt before.

He surrendered to this fear, this change within him. Tonight he wasn’t going backwards. Not anymore.

Some Version Of You

Some version of you exists in my mind,

Drenched in sweat,

Quivering

So degraded and humiliated you’re trembling,

Skin stinging from rope and an open palm,

A clit so sore you don’t want to move,

Burning, scorching marks from the paddle,

Nipples pulsating from the bite.

You don’t understand. You don’t understand. How could you? No one’s ever tested you, ever tested your limits, ever twisted your mind. No one has ever been curious enough to wonder how your mind sounds when the last moment of sanity slithers from your lips, and drips, down your throat like the bead of sweat from your temples.

But I do. He does.

We want to break you, to violate your sweet tight cunt till you are forced to come, till your thighs tremble to rock with the umpteenth orgasm that will wash over you. And when you’re spent, we will flip you over and fuck your untouched ass till you feel so disgustingly full you will squeeze your eyes shut tightly and feel the nagging presence of a headache.

With each thrust, you’ll repeat back to me. I am Nothing. I am No One. I am Ready to be His Toy. With each forced orgasm, you’ll thank me, through gritted teeth, till I don’t have to remind you, till you know the words.

And when I fuck your salty mouth with my aching cock, grasping the nipple clamps planted fiercely on your tits, tugging them like a rider alerts a horse, you fucking animal, I am going to shoot my load down the back of your throat till you swallow.

Only then will you be free, left to curl up, left with the ache, left with the come drying on your lips, rocking and panting and promising and pleading:

I am nothing. I am no one. I am ready to be His toy.

Language: A Short Erotic Piece

I couldn’t stop even when I knew it was wrong in all of the ways.

I had to have you.

I needed to have you.

I wanted to hear you curse in your native tongue. I wanted to hear the Spanish slip your lips as it rolled ever so smoothly off hold tongue.

I wanted to bury my head in your chest, inhale your scent. Not your perfume, your scent – your skin, your sweat, your hair.

I wanted to lose myself in the dark tangles of your hair, riding the edges of ecstasy, my hands gripping a fistful as I thumb the straps of your dress.

I had to see them. I just had to.

I had to tear your dress down, couldn’t do it gently, couldn’t save myself, couldn’t help myself from saving your strapless black bra for my eyes to feast on.

I gorged quickly, spilling your breasts free from their places, running my mouth across your darkened areola’s.

I had to flick my tongue along your nipples, dark, puffy, soft.

There was no taste…and yet…something faint. Light. Different. I wanted more. I needed more.

You don’t understand how long I’ve wondered. What you looked like beneath. How your breasts sat freely, how your body reacted to touch. How you smelt.

I had to hear you curse, I had to hear the rolls of the tongue, the beauty of the language in the throes of something wild, no matter the cause.

I had to know whether you were shaven, trimmed or natural. I like natural. The darkness, the untamed beauty. What meaning is this, what of nature. Heritage. Personality. Atmosphere. Of the world. I don’t know.

It wasn’t enough to see it, your coarse, unrefined mound. I had to taste, had to rub my tongue along the shape of your lips. I had to hear you – disgruntled, ferocious.

I needed you.

________________________

This one was born from an attraction to all things Spanish – the language, the women, the culture, the history – but also from the darkest corners of my mind. Specifically a wandering mind at 3am.

It went on longer in my head, becoming darker, weirder. But I decided to end it in the middle and leave some things to the imagination. I hope you enjoy!

Sensory Overload

All it takes is for her to duck into the lounge room where I’m resting, completely nude, in all her mesmerising glory, to grab a head band for her bath —
And my mind is transported away.
She is chained to the bedroom, completely naked, her arms and legs spread apart.

There’s a bag over her head. Something new. Me being sadistic by toying sensory deprivation. She won’t be able to see. She won’t be able to quell any concern with a kiss. How long should I leave her with the bag on? Perhaps when the air runs low, when her mind is dazed, I could bring her to the brink of her orgasm — and as my mouth rests over her cunt, my tongue teasing her clit with small licks, I can remove the bag.

And as her senses rush back to her, her body seizes with all the power of an orgasm. 
The dizziness of the air rushing back to her melds with her pleasure. Maybe it’ll catapult her senses sky high. Maybe she might be elated. Soaring high into a space that’s beyond the norm but not beyond my reach.
I could bring her back with a gentle hug, soft words – and the reminder that I am in charge of her. And all that she is. 
And then I’m back in the lounge, a grin forms across my lips. I know just what to do. 

Ice And Fire, Part I

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Note: This is the first instalment in my Dark Disney entry into the Frozen world and — it’s more than a little dark. So hopefully you find a little nook to climb into and disappear into this piece.

 

For the first time in years, Elsa didn’t feel completely and utterly alone.
Where she had spent the days huddled in the corner of her bedroom fearing what the townsfolk of Arendelle might do to her if they found out the truth about her, now she walked with the crowd, doing fantastical magic tricks for children and adults alike.
The people adored her and accepted her – and still, something deep down within her rumbled through her chest, coursing itself through her veins.
It was her familiar friend fear that coiled itself around her heart, feeling her mind with dark thoughts and imagery.
In those moments, she panicked as a thought prickled its way up her spine: What if I lash out again? What if this takes over me and I not only bring Arendelle to ruins but the whole world?

Sometimes she had dreams. In those dreams, she walked through the ruins of Arendelle frozen still, its people locked still in the moment of when the icy blast hit them.
Elsa walked through the snowy landscape, moving pass the still faces twisted in grimaces of horror.
Each dream of a frozen Arendelle took the same path: Elsa walked through the town towards the Great Lake, now just solid ice.
Each dream, she didn’t want to look, she didn’t want to see – but she could not tear herself out of the moment. She couldn’t get away.
She couldn’t stop looking at the frozen figure of her younger sister Anna, her eyes wide and lifeless. A victim of Elsa’s emotional outburst.
Everything hit her in the moment she saw Anna’s face – the heartbreak, the loss of life, of everyone, especially her sister, who she loved more than anything.

On those days, after she awoke from her nightmare, she would rush into Anna’s room, just to see her beautiful face once more.
Elsa thought all about this and more and as she watched Kristoff, Sven, Anna and Olaf sit in the Town Square together enjoying their lunch.
A thought came to her mind then – a thought so out of the ordinary that it seemed to strike her with electricity: She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.
O, it’s not uncommon to think such a thing about your family or your friends, that’s true indeed, but Elsa found that the thought came with such a surge that it took her by surprise.

Is it merely love for my sister after years of loneliness or am I missing something? Elsa wondered.
In truth, she had been desperately lonely all those years she had spent in her room living with nothing but her fear and anxieties, longing for a companion that wasn’t made out of ice. Longing for warmth. But nothing came and she was utterly alone.
Now that that time had passed and the town had accepted Elsa, Elsa and Anna were reunited at last.

Thinking of Anna now, Elsa realized that suddenly thinking of her as ‘beautiful’ took on a whole dimension and form.
She noticed the way her green eyes became lighter in the sun or how her freckles sit across her face.
Elsa was aware now, of things she hasn’t seen in her sister before and it frightened her.
Before Anna could notice and invite her over, Elsa turned and headed back up the palace steps, to withdraw into the throne room.

She lit a fire and warmed her hands. The thought of inspecting Anna closely made her feel like a freak.
Her body, typically, began to freeze the floor around her.
“No” she spat, exasperated. “Please, not again!”
The ice crackled as it spread over the carpet, freezing it still.
A chill shot up her thighs and teased the slit of her cunt.
Elsa focused on the fire. The warmth.

Warmth.
Summer.
Heat.
Scorched.
Deserts.
Tropical.
Baking, sunburn.
Warmth.

Anna.

“No!”

Ice shot out of her in a shockwave, covering the floor beneath her in a sheet of white.
The doors to the throne room opened and an Arendelle guard stepped forward.
“Is everything alright, my queen?”
Before Elsa could move he was beside her, moving her by the wrist out of the ice.
“Please, I’m alright”
Elsa grabbed a towel off a nearby table and bent down to place it over the dampened spot.
As she did so, she noticed the guard looking down her dress, which had lifted forward, exposing her breasts that were snug against the fabric.

It all happened so fast.
The guard reached out to her and pulled her up.
Elsa cried out in surprise and immediately went to conjure her powers, but it was too late, the guard had her pinned facing the wall.
“I’ve always wanted a taste of the ice queen. We’ve all heard the rumors you don’t take men into your quarters. I’ll be the first”
Elsa struggled to move, struggled to fight back but it was no use. He had her pinned and he was strong.

Rough hands tore at her Ice blue dress.
Elsa felt the cool summer breeze skim across her legs and tickle her ass.
Something pulsated within her.
In a matter of seconds, the guard was tearing down her panties.
The light blue with white polka dots color scheme got tangled around her knees. The tightly wound material cut into her skin.

That’s when she felt his hot breath on her left ear.
“I’ve waited a long time to see what secrets lay beneath.”
“You just wait till my sister -”
“It’s a lovely day, my queen. Don’t ruin it with threats”
Elsa went to struggle again but the guard kept her firmly in place.
“Now let’s see how icy your cunt is”

The man kept a fistful of her golden hair while he lowered himself down along her bare ass.
Elsa whimpered – a haggard pathetic sound – and hugged the wall to inch herself away from him.
It made no difference, she was helpless, captured to be still by this man.
He drew close to her and she could feel his hands thumb at her ass, splitting it open slowly.

When the wetness of his tongue slid into her, she shrieked and tried to thrash but his hand held her still.
The guard slid his tongue from the opening of her anus down to her slit.
She heard him chuckle.
“Smooth? I didn’t take you for smooth, my queen. I thought your pubes would be ice blue”
With that, he lowered his tongue upon her.
Elsa was horrified to find that her body betrayed her. The impulse that shook through her that moment told her it felt nice, soothing – but still she struggled back against.

With one leg, she kicked him back.
He was surprised, taken back even, but he was ready for her.
“You little conniving whore” He hissed as he held her to the ground.
“Daddy was just trying to take care of you, best he knows how”
Elsa struggled against him. The two grunted in unison for two very different reasons.
Elsa felt the man go still a moment – then she felt something hard against her back. It slid between her ass and pressed against her.

At once it started to burn and then — she fell into a daze.
She couldn’t tell what happened at that point. Her vision became a blur and she had the strangest sense of feeling full.
She fought against the sensation but arms felt tied to a claim.
Stinging pain shot through her body. It erupted in pulsating waves, one after the other.

The guard, she saw, was smacking her.
“Do you know what happens to naughty girls that misbehave? They get reigned in.”
The guard spoke lowly, almost to himself. His voice was manic.
How did this happen, think Elsa, as the guard was massaging his cock between her ass cheeks.
Suddenly the guard had her up against the wall facing him.
He lowered her down.

“Change of plans” He mumbled with a laugh.
Elsa has to do a double take to his words and just as she deciphered it, his cock slid into her mouth and down her throat.
It was warm and salty, with the faintest taste of sweat as it thrust in and out of her wet mouth.
The very action made Elsa gag.
Elsa was against the wall as his thick uncut cock slid in and out of her mouth again and again.
She struggled to breath against the constant sensation of her throat being filled.
Somewhere above he groaned as his hips thrust into her.
Elsa tried swatting him away but he held her in place, his thrusting quickening.
“No” she cried, pushing against him.
“Breath a little ice on it, honey” He purred as his cock slid smoothly down her throat.
She could taste herself on his cock.
The sensation caused her to jerk and forward and swipe at him.
Her left hand hit him in the stomach and he recoiled.
He yanked on her hair and whispered. “Little frustrating bitch, I was close”
He spat on her – a thick glob of saliva struck her face.
It stung her cheeks and slid down to the corners of her mouth.

The lightheadedness that was with Elsa earlier in the day was returning and she realised she was struggling to breathe.
She grappled frantically at the man to try and get some air, her chest heaving for that relief.
She got it when the man slid his cock roughly out of her mouth and shot his load all over her face.
It hit her in pulsating waves, rolling down her cheeks and necks and pooling around her nipples.
The man laughed to himself as he stood back and watched her.
Elsa looked around at her surroundings, panting, taking in huge gulps of air.
“No…..No…”
The guard just laughed.
“NO” cried Elsa in defiance – and that’s when a dazzling blinding light shot out of her hands and enveloped everything she saw in a furious white light.

 

To be continued…

 

 

 

Thoughts to keep warm during Winter

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When I tell her to bend across the pool table, I wonder what her mind is running to.
When I tease her slit with the pool cue, gliding in circles, I wonder if she is hesitant or welcoming.

And when I ease it into her, as it disappears inside her, will she buckle, will she tremble, will she tell me it’s too much or will she try and prove to me, rot herself, to the gods, that she is worthy, that she is the one. That I am the one for her.

O, will she slide back into it, to feel it stretch her, to feel ‘full’?
Or will she attempt to crawl away, as it is too much.
Which version do I want, obedience or struggle? Both harden my cock.

What will come out of those slick wet lips?
A guttural moan?
A grunt, in the most beautiful, animalistic, dare I think un-lady-like way?
Or will she sob? And if so, will that sobbing enchant me or dispel me?

How will her hair fall? Over her eyes? Over her mouth?
Will her hair stick to her wet luscious lips?

And will she come? Will she come again? Will she take the cue for me until I tell her no more, until she is so full it aches. Maybe it bleeds.

Such thoughts run through my mind. And warms my heart.