THE FILTHY TALES OF DELECTABLE DEVIANTS HAS ONLY 50 FOLLOWERS TO GO UNTIL 2000!
Did you read the last story… ?
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[click to read on. Quite the taboo tale this one, with a very naughty gif to match it!]
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Thank you to everyone who reads, follows, reblogs, likes and gets naughty over these stories, it means a great deal. If you ever want to say hello, whether a kinky site or if I remain a sordid secret of yours, I don’t publish - to feel free to send a message and let me know what you like.
If you’re enthusiastic about the stories, i’ll write more of them, more frequently.
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>The Delectable Mr Deviant, English scribbler of the deliciously sinful. ;)
ONE OF MY VERY KINKIEST STORIES WENT UP YESTERDAY ..
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[click to read the rest of the story - and to see the filthy picture atop it!]
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Hoping you enjoy, as always ;)
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>The Delectable Mr Deviant. x
My girlfriend's birthday. I promised her the naughtiest...
My girlfriend's birthday. I promised her the naughtiest thing she could think of. No limits. Anything goes. What she suggested frightened me. Her reaction was the horniest thing i've ever seen.
She shaved me from head to toe. Put make up on my face, a tint of rouge to my cheeks, mascara that emphasised the cobalt in my eyes. The contrasting patent red lipstick. She'd shopped and bought what she called 'a cute tank top', placed stockings on my legs.
"Next .. next .." she stammered, looking at me, blushing, looking away. When I enquired further, if she was okay, she said she could barely breathe. When I moved over to her, she said she was okay - that the constricting chest was because she felt so naughty, so utterly turned on. That I had no idea of how wet she was. Or how difficult the second part of the birthday request.
She wanted me to fuck her dildo, slowly, deep into my arse. Over and over. She didn't want me to touch. She wondered if I could make myself cum. Said watched me harden, begin to throb. This was purely from her reaction. Then she told me she was having trouble not playing. But if I wasn't allowed, she wasn't either.
She lubed up the dildo, placed it against the tip of my bottom, watched as I teased a little of it inside me with every push and stroke back again. She was transfixed, biting her lip. Fingernails gripping against the edges of her dress, as if wanting to lift it, to rub her cunt as furiously as her breathing intimated. It drove me wild watching her. Made me fuck the dildo even more intensely.
I began moaning louder and louder, biting against my lipstick, staring her down and watching her shiver. "You look so pretty.." she whispered, "So naughty.."
"Will you cum for me?"
"I want to see you," I replied. Spread your legs, and don't you dare touch, but I want to see how wet you are for me. And then i'm going to think about licking your sopping knickers. I'm going to imagine tears them aside and fucking you. Fucking you as your pretty Miss, yet as wanton and primal and your Sir"
"She gingerly moved back, lifted her dress and spread her thighs. Her white cotton knickers were deliciously soaked. Her expression one of innocence and sex and shame and glory. The delicious collision one which pushed every button in me.
"Watch," I said.
Moving slowly, easing the dildo in and out so that every ridge made me scream, drew every pulse of cum out of my cock, as I came over and over and over.
"Now play, " I demanded, and watched as she ferociously clawed at the front of her panties, soon pushing a finger into them, rubbing herself copiously, charged with all that restraint, of seeing her man become a Miss, doing things he's never done before, all for her. Looking so beautiful, yet being so incredibly naughty.
Soon the knickers were off and she was finger fucking. I beckoned her over to me as she hit all fours, hands on the floor, mouth and tongue ravenous upon my throbbing cock, licking up every last drop.
"Would you like to fuck me faster with it?" I asked. She tried to form a reply, eventually breathing deeply, nodding. I lay back, she knelt over me, fucking me with it as she rubbed herself, when I came again, she told me was closer.
"Don't you fucking dare, Miss"
She stopped, shivered from the shock. I pushed her back and devoured her cunt, tongue flicking and whipping over her clit, plunging deep over and over into her soaking sex.
And when she came, she nearly screamed the street down.
Happy birthday, Miss. A very filthy happy birthday indeed.
THERE'S A NEW STORY WRITTEN .. ONE OF KINK & LUST AS MUCH AS IT IS OF CLOSE & CONNECTION ..
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[click above to go to the tale!]
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Hoping you enjoy, as always ;)
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>The Delectable Mr Deviant. x
She's under strict instructions not to move. Placed...
She's under strict instructions not to move. Placed delicately on the bed and bent into beautiful curves, Sir having placed a vibrator throbbing mischievously deep in her cunt, humming devious songs around her bottom. Her placement is just so. Her instructions are to keep it there. Even a moan or a cry could affect things. And Sir says no.
And yet Miss has a truly delectable tongue, one which polishes and explores, finds erogenous zones, watches for instances where such makes me pine a little, takes her instances thereafter most effectively. The point I look down at her, see those glistening, polished lips near unsullied, is the point I can't help but fuck her face. Almost involuntarily at first, and then as her tongue crafts greater delights of sin and pleasure I get carried away. It's a good while before I realise i'm taking her open mouth as if it's her pussy - deep, long, rough strokes pushing right at the back of her throat.
Her deportment is pristine, yet she knows what she's doing - trying not to get found out more than anything, as each thrust of my cock against her face shakes her a little, coaxes the vibrator into new alignments, new places. It's her moans that give her away. It's just how fucking turned on she has me that screams the sheer temptation to fuck spunk into the back of her throat, order her to look at me as I glaze her face with my seed.
Yet i'm in the mood to take this last, to draw out her finest scream and edge her towards it. A swift telling off, perhaps a slap to the face. That I know her game. I'm not impressed. That she must remain in this position as I take my belt to her. She does not have permission to make any noise, otherwise the crack of the belt becomes harder. I seek to scar her. Pink mark after pink mark. Over and over. Yet the purple of bruises rise beyond the stings. There may be tears. I'm prepared for tears.
To then turn her over, part her thighs and pay slow, lavish attention to her clit, her lips, to taste deep inside her honey pot and see how sticky Sir has made her. As the cool of the sheets radiates against the naughty girl's sore bottom, I intend to give her an orgasm to make her shakes for minutes afterwards. To take her close to it, then deny. Take her closer, then deny. oh so sensitive, is now the time? not until I say it is. And when it is, oh my the lascivious kindnesses I intend to apply.
When Miss is cried out and climaxed, I'll fold her into my arms until she breathes with new alignment. Apply soothing oils into her every ache, a massage that unlocks every muscle. Leave her new again.
For we play these games, often to extremes, but it's the trust that makes it, gorgeous Miss. However naughty we go, my arms await - and you can always find that sparkle within my eyes, no matter the face I might wear within such purposes.
My lust is fired coal, my heart is the engine. You stoke the machine. It's not for the sex. The sex is because of you. Everything is because of you. Everything.
NEW FILTH TONIGHT, I'M THINKING
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Any naughty people desiring a new story?
I’m feeling all filthy creative, you see.
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>The Delectable Mr Deviant. x
DELECTABLE DEVIANTS PRESENTS A DELICIOUS NEW STORY ..
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She wanted him to. She oh-so-wanted him to. ”
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As ever your likes, reblogs and messages are what keep my enthusiasm and prompt more stories, so if you enjoy please leave one of the three and let me know.
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>The Delectable Mr Deviant. x
He invited her over, promising a sinful new game. She was to...
He invited her over, promising a sinful new game. She was to wear that naughty, far-too-short nighty, those shiny patent new shoes and lace ankle socks which matched the ornate frills of her knickers.
As she knelt nervously over the edge of the bed, he moved behind her, ran his hands from the shine on her shoes, over her socks to the girly tops, then slowly brushed a wave of the back of his hand and teasing, moving fingers up past her calves, behind her knees, to the inside of her thighs and almost touching the material at the top.
She wanted him to. She oh-so-wanted him to. And the more she thought about it happening, the more she started to dampen. Sir continued his shoes to almost knickers tease, delighting in her sighs, her eyes when she stole a look. The moment she blushed and it was almost too much. She knew her was looking at her sex, of how her unspoken lust was making the material every more sticky. She knew that Sir knew, and that amplified things further still.
She wondered if he'd play over her underwear, shivered at the thought of him licking her over them. What if her pulled them aside, plunged a twirling, tasting tongue between her lips. Moved it around and around and around. She wanted his fingers and thought of them brushing over her g-spot. She mused upon his cock, of how much deeper still it would move inside her. She wanted him to pull her hair, take her roughly, to hear a primal scream as he came so deep in her cunt.
Yet stir had her hynpotised with tingles, still brushing fingertips, the back of his hand, sometimes his palm, instilling electric shivers through her. Filling her mind with possibilities and filth. She said nothing. When she stole a brand new gaze, he was still delighting in her - and as he glanced to between her thighs, then looked back with the most devious smile - it tore though her. She wanted more. She didn't want him to stop.
Then Sir replaced his touch with brand new sensations. The shock jolted her, the way she purred surprised her. What was Sir doing …?
He licked and kissed up each other her thighs in turn, twirling swirls of his tongue, the heat of his sigh, ever so tiny bites. She wanted his lips upon her clit. his tongue plunging deep into her hot sex with vicious amounts of lust. She dug her nails into the duvet with frustrations, sensations, the thrill of a man adoring edging her. She wanted him NOW, but he .. he made her wait.
Then pleasure pain, a static hand squeezing upon her every synapse, stinging, singing through each and every pore; Sir started scoring deeply within his nails upon the outsides of her thighs, up to the inside .. and then ever so lightly over her cunt as he held her gaze. Her mouth fell open and she threw him the naughtiest look. She was melting. Absolutely fucking melting.
At the point where his tongue started to tease over her cunt, she was bucking towards him, trying to push his head downwards, but he was having none of it. Content to be this contemptuously, adoring how horny she was.
When his tongue started to push a little deeper, she heard him undoing his zip against her feet. As he licked deeper she felt him take out his cock and it nudging against her socks. And as he plunged his tongue deep inside her and started turning it around, he started wanking himself against her - the naughtiness of the new and the feel between the rough of the lace ankle socks and the cold smooth of the patent leather. She felt his sigh and moans against her cunt as he licked her out ever more eagerly - and as he got more and more carried away at her feel, he started sucking her throbbing clit into his mouth. Closer still, he started fingerfucking her, looking at her, his cock getting more and more worked up against the contrasting sensations of her socks and shoes… holding off, hold off…
She started to squirt against his fingers and that was the trigger, her splashing against one of his fevered hands, as the other was working his cock against her feet, covering her socks and shoes with his spunk.
He plunged his tongue all over her cunt, licking up her juices, lapping against them, still moaning and trembling from the touch tease of him against her feet.
She didn't expect this. Such taboo. So naughty. She'd never done anything like this before. But fuck, how hard she'd cum as a result.
She's with another man now. Yet a morning text said she...
She's with another man now. Yet a morning text said she was thinking about me. Thoughts of how hard I got in the morning. Of how much she adored sucking me off. Each delicate finger wrapping tightly and feeling me throb, using lips, tongue and touch to turn that into ache, to feel every pulse of my cock in her mouth as I came over and over inside it. To look at me and savage my every expression, early morning voice raspy and breaking amidst each moan and cry.
She apologised if I was with someone, if this was inappropriate, but that her boyfriend was next to her sleeping, she didn't want to fuck him, she was laying there, deceitfully masturbating and thinking of me.
My girlfriend was getting ready, near to leaving the house. I lay under the duvet, desperately wanting to play, but applying deft touches under the duvet to my cock. My phone on silent. Desperate to sneak another look at the screen whenever she left the room.
I texted the situation, of how my ache had been amplified by such tiny smooths and touches, fingertips, fingernails over my shaft, my balls. Of how just how sticky the tip of my cock had become. Thinking of her slowly rubbing her clit from thoughts of my cock in her mouth.
She told me she wished I was there, there she could be softly sucking me as he slept. Of how she wanted my spunk all over her face, tight fist moving rapidly as she finished me off all over her pretty features, wanting to feel the heat of my sex, my sin, as she slept.
My girlfriend finished her ablutions, looking stunning, and kissed me goodbye. A kiss of deception on my part, her eyes in part focussed on her day ahead. Then she saw my gaze, reached under the duvet and felt my cock. Squeezed it. I moaned. As her hand moved under the covers it was but centimetres from my phone. Wherein the game would be given away.
"Mmm," she smiled, "I want you to deal with that in the naughtiest way possible. Then tell me all about it"
"You sure?" I replied.
"Oh yes!" she beamed.
I'm sure she meant porn, or laying there thinking of kink, a time when we we fucked, but I wanted to look back to my phone. I was already half way thinking towards something dangerous, when my girlfriend left and I saw the next message.
It read ..
"I want to come over. Please can I come over. I really want to suck your cock".
Then the message after ..
"I guess not. I'm really sorry."
Should I text back? My cock was begging to be touched, yet I didn't want to apply mine too much. I wanted hers. Her lips, her eyes, the danger and sheer deceit. Musing upon it made me shiver. Made me harder.
I pondered. Texted back.
"Situation was difficult, I couldn't reply. Just me here now. The door's unlocked."
Nothing for the longest time. I thought she'd changed her mind, left her house, another option. Then what I thought was the turning of a front door handle. Then the turning of the bedroom door.
I squeezed myself harder under the duvet. She looked at the movement and bit her lip. Not a word was exchanged. She lifted up her skirt, revealing fresh white knickers, which she then rubbed herself softly over.
I moved the duvet away and moved she moved towards the bed. Those eyes up close, those tiny beautiful, kissable lips. Her hand moved to my throbbing cock almost as instinct and she tightened her fist around, bit her lip again, then used her thumb to smooth the jewel of pre-cum around the tip of my cock. Licked at it. Watched me react. Devoured every flicker of naughtiness as she rubbed me faster and faster, licked me sucked me. Fuck this was wrong. Fuck, I can't recall the last time I was this turned on.
Her fingers returned to playing under her skirt, softly at first, then faster and faster. Stopping occasionally. Hot sigh sumptuous, voluptuous as it washed over my cock.
Her first words were breathless.
"I saved my orgasm for you"
My reaction was shock, shivers, and she started wanking me faster and faster, the fingers over her knickers as swift as those around my cock. The moment she started to cum, closed her eyes, opened her mouth to scream, when when my control was destroyed, spunking over her in wave after wave.
I pushed her onto the floor and licked my cum from her face, spread her legs and started tonguing into her hot cunt. She was wet, glorious, overpowered my such unexpected naughtiness and started digging her fingers into my hair as I plunged the syrup of my sin between her lips, around her clit. Watched her cum again.
Moved up to kiss her, that she share the taste of our deception. Then she got up, gave me a final glance, gorgeous smile, and left.
I wonder if I should text my girl about what truly happened. I wonder if this ex will text again.
Your boyfriend has nipped to the store. We have minutes, if...
Your boyfriend has nipped to the store. We have minutes, if we're lucky, more. A suggestion of mine that made you wet. Daring. Dangerous. If he catches us, you, everything could be at stake. Yet still ..
Take off your skirt. Sit on the couch. Spread your legs.
I'll drop to my knees. Smooth my hands down your nylon covered thighs. Light nails to create extra electricity. Heavier nails for instances that make you dig your nails into the cushions, inspire a desire to pull at my hair. Not too much. He can't have any clues.
My tongue pushing your tights over your cunt, static tickles that cause ripples within, butterflies in your tummy, a specific throbbing and a desire to cum. He could be home at any time.
Licking, whipping at you, pushing the nylon just inside. Just enough to tingle past your lips, to dip into the well. Perhaps fingertips to penetrate inside as much as the material will allow, stir them around. Think of my fingers easier down the waistband, pulling your tights down enough to be fingerfucked. Imagine if he walked in one that.
Your hands wander up inside your t-shirt, into your bra, to pinch and tease at your nipples. It's then I know I have you. It's then his car pulls into the drive. Tension and sexuality collide. Should we stop? How close are you?
I lick you faster, thrashing at your stocking covered cunt with my tongue. Your eyes are panic and lust in equal measure. The sound of a key in a lock. It's the car boot. Seconds more.
What happens now? Do you cum? Sure;ly he will see the blush, the signs, the deception in your eyes? What if he hears the scream, sees me kneeling teasing pantyhose all over your naughtiest places. Does he leave? What if he joins in?
Imagine me carrying on licking you, him walking up to you, taking his cock out and savagely fucking your face. I tear down your tights and push my hard cock inside you. Both of us rough and hard. Me spunking all over your cunt, rubbing it into your clit as he cums all over your face.
We have seconds left. All these things on your mind, yet the severe danger pervades. You could lose everything. Everything. And yet .. the danger. The delicious danger. Naughtier consequences. His key in the door.
So close.
Monday morning. My every attempt to be deliciously distracting....
Monday morning. My every attempt to be deliciously distracting. As you're bending over, trying to get ready, a few soft caresses of the tops of your thighs, to brush the soft cotton of your knickers betwixt.
To ignore you, leave you alone, let you continue for a few minutes to pick out your outfit, plan your day. To notice you looking at me, but not return the glance. To brush my fingertips over your underwear again. Feel the slightest spot of naughtiness and push over it a little. Feel how hot and bothered i've made you. Hear the softest whimper from the pretty Miss.
I know you don't have time. I'm being devious. I'm sure you think I want to rub you until you cum - and in part, I do - but I want to wind you upo, stop, let you simmer, watch you get ready, be frustrated, on the edge, keep those looks being thrown over to me - and in the instance you let your guard down, to tease you anew.
Perhaps your dress will be on at this point, make up will be done. You may have chosen trousers, a suit. If the latter, the trousers will be lowered just so. I don't want your eyes, you're not allowed mine, just close them and lose yourself in the shivers, of being edged closer and closer. Each time more intense than the last. Wondering if I'll allow you to cum, trying to hide each exclamation from me only makes the outburst when you can't all the more revealing.
I wonder if there will be a point when I let you go, when you try and pleasure yourself? So desperate to cum, worried about the time, the excuses you're already going to have to give. It's this point I may need to restrain you, wrap my tie around your wrists and bind you to the bed. Straddle you and use it as a choke hold for every time you make a naughty noise and throttle it.
Perhaps i'll get you devastatingly close and send you to work. With very specific instructions. At this point so close that every movement in the car, walking, rubbing your thighs together at the desk, is absolute electricity. So close the cotton is tickle static as you crackle on the cusp of something devastating.
Wait until break time, go to the bathroom and call me . Don't say a word until I do. Until I give you instruction. You're not allowed to touch as I chastise you, telling you what a filthy little fuck you are, of how I should tell your bosses the real reason why you were late, that I know how fucking wet you are. Such a naughty little girl. My girl. And I love it. I love you.
"That you may cum"
Listening to you amidst the echoes, trying to keep quiet, trying not to touch when someone else comes in .. that dead air so devastating, yet utterly fucking delicious .. especially when you start to tease again. Especially when I tell you i'm in the bathroom at work, my suit is unzipped, my cock rock hard and playing for you.
That one vision flooding your mind, your senses, listening to you bite you lip and try to keep quiet as you climax over and over and over. Of how listening to you could make me cum hard all over my hand and fingers, trying desperately to not get any on the front of my suit.
Yet telling you that i'm going to stop. Sit on the edge of naughtiness all day for you. Of how intensely i'm going to come for you later tonight.
And of just how much trouble you're in once you get home. ;)
Rock back and forth on my tongue. I control the flicks, the...
Rock back and forth on my tongue. I control the flicks, the licks, how deep I choose to taste and tease.
Push me in directions if you will, but spontaneity is my master, and I chose as to when you get closer, if I stop and simply breathe on you, letting my sigh crackle over you like fog and popping candy, waiting for that next moment when I plunge my tongue inside, feel just how much wetter I've gotten you with pure anticipation.
Without touching you at all.
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Instances when I choose to grab at your hips, pull them down onto my lips and thrust-lick my tongue as far inside your sin as I possibly can.
See how much you ravenously lust after every turn and turn and turn, one way then the next, the controlling rollercoaster of your wanton desire.
Stopping again.
Hearing that frustrated little whine that means kitten isn't getting everything her own way, yet .. Sir's way is feeling far, far more deviant and delicious.
Where Miss may have gone headlong towards the prize, Sir denies, denies, denies.
Each kiss upon a naughty cunt enough to make Miss die inside. Shivers and screams and lustrous and fuck me.
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Maybe i'll get you close, slide from under you, push you down on the bed.
I might just push my hard cock inside you and fuck you like crazy, waiting for the moment your climax strikes to plunge all the way inside you and cum hard in wave after wave after wave.
Hear my cry.
Feel my hands at your throat as I rob you of breath, make funny static in your mind, make each push inside you seem like infinite Heaven Hell, a fight to live or die, and orgasm after orgasm as I decide which desire you truly deserve.
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Perhaps i'll tie you up, tease my cock as you watch, cum all over your aching sex and let you feel the caress of every drop of cum running over past your clit, over your lips, a little on your thighs.
I could leave you there.
I could lick all of it off and tongue it deep into your pussy.
Would you cum? If I knew you were going to would I let you?
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All I know is you taste fucking divine, you're wet and wanton and moving all over each lick like crazy.
But i'll be the one to make sure if you cum tonight, if you don't..or how long I let you shiver and shake in the moments inbetween. ;)
Take my final push. My reverse, anti-matter breathing, as I...
Take my final push. My reverse, anti-matter breathing, as I choke on you, your sensuality, the beautiful course of occasional nails from your fingertips pushing down upon my chest.
Grasp my sex within yours tightly, feel every pulse, throb and ache, know that it's cumming. Look in my eyes and know that i'm cumming. Summon your self down unto the moment and centre upon the exact instance inside you as I scream.
As deep as I am, feel an impossible push, wash after wash, throb upon pulse as wave after wave of me flows inside you, shiver tickles down your walls, an impossible untouch lick from within past your lips, sticky as it covers the base of my hard cock, still warm and suggestive and wet upon your clit.
I can't help but brush my thumb and flick at it, just to see the shock in your eyes, knowing that my moment of absolute sexual magnificence is guiding you there.
I can't help but continue to moan, to cry as I see you so close, grab at your hips and keep fucking you, uncontrollable in finding myself spunking more, more. Watching you match my anti-matter gasp and crying out unto the still of the still-emerging world. Biting your lip because it's Sunday morning, because people may be sleeping, but I'm devious, mischievous, I want every noise, every purr, every banshee essence I can steal from the pretty Miss.
You see it in my eyes, feel me hardening anew inside you, still brushing your clit, circling your hips, willing you to pinch your nipples, exploit the electric static that fills the room, the musk of our fuck, the brilliance of connection. Feeling you shiver and shake as I control you, guide your climax, extract every firework with the spark of my nails, the knead of my fingers and palms.
Pulling you closer and kissing you, still inside you, giggling softly. Arms and warm and close. Revelling in the delicious mess we've made. Heart the size of the world, affecting drum & bass punches for all the reasons I could never explain. Adore. Adore. Adore.
I should leave you, humming away naughtily all day, dildo just...
I should leave you, humming away naughtily all day, dildo just inside to tease sensitive places, left on a slow enough burn to make you want more, send you there oh-so-slowly.
Not in quite far enough as Sir's cock can reach, the marks on your backside stinging enough to tell you that Sir is far from pleased. Either that or Sir has issues he wanted to take out on your bottom, else he knows how much you like to ache. How wet it makes you.
Yet Sir has missed out your favourite aspects. Those deep scratches that look as if drawn on in lipstick, yet sting like you've been truly scared. The marks may disappear and fade, but she misses them, misses the way they hurt against her clothes. It's not long before she's begging to be punished once again.
Is this a punishment, or is Sir toying with her? His expression didn't give anything away, and the possibilities make her cunt twitch. twitch against the teasing throb of the dildo inside her. She'd cry out for Sir, but that's what the gag is for.
As the machine's purr moves her into something more climactic, she fights it, but doing so makes things all the more insane when sensations tear the struggle from her, and he has to give way to the forthcoming fireworks.
What would Sir say if she came? He always knows, but is it from the blushing on her cheeks or a guilty look. She thinks he can taste it between her legs when he returns, and she's never sure if she will be played with or sent home. Her mind wanders, her body gets close to convulsing .. she really mustn't, except..maybe just one. She mustn't. Must not. Mustn't.
Far and sting, throb and possibilities, the cusp of an orgasm she dare not steal. Hands tied, ball gag firmly in place. Sir could be home soon. He has to be home soon.
Must not. Mustn't.
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I see that look of defeat in your eyes. Find my arms, my...
I see that look of defeat in your eyes. Find my arms, my strength, fold into them. Let your Sir caress away the pains of your day, as you mount my face.
My tongue exploring around the tops of your thighs, teasing licks across each lip, a tongue plunging deep betwixt. Smooths and movements over your clit, some soft and gentle, others whipping and lapping at you. I want to push you to screaming, the cry to scream away the ills of 9-5, the sexual release that says you're mine.
I love to see you lose yourself as you get close, hips grinding almost involuntarily against each flick and dive, pinching your nipples, harder, then harder still. Your eyes watching mine as I deviously push, smooth, push, as if trying to guess my next movement - and of when I take you by surprise, move you with a counter directional, make you moan that soft sultry "Oh f—"
When the gaze shared becomes you closing your eyes, I know I have you. I can tease softly, make you open them again as if to silently ask 'why?'. Yet the smile that follows says it all, that you know Sir understands you, knows how to tempt you into something far, far naughtier. You recall last time and bite your lip.
Close your eyes and cum for me. Buck against me wildly as I likc you faster, harder, more. My nails saved for such an occasion as I scream 'ouchies' down both thighs. That luck of shock, the momentum atop your climax, a harder buck against me, I lick you deeper, faster, more.
Nails down your tummy, over your hip bones, then down those thighs again. Dig the nails in. More 'ouchies', lick, smooth, push, lick, shock in the eyes of Miss, a louder scream, a deeper cry. Subservient, attended to, mine.
Fold into my arms in the aftermath. We'll shower, wash bubbles, share giggles and soft touch tease. Kisses that linger as warm water shimmers and tickles. I'll take you to bed and we'll start again. Kinky, close, naughtier.
Miss smiling now, her eyes wanton with mischief and possibilities. I've found you again. I'll always find you again.
She has no idea if she's going home tonight, of when next...
She has no idea if she's going home tonight, of when next she'll eat, if Sir is even still in the room at all, or if it's just Sir in the room.
Beyond her blindfold she listens, for any semblance of sound, any give-away that might afford her a clue. Meanwhile her mind wanders, explodes to the possibilities, her thighs press together instinctively at the naughty twitch the thought demands.
Through the ball gag she dribbles down her cheek onto the bed, becoming aware that she's far wetter between her legs, her knickers are far more sodden than the bedsheet she's couldn't help but drool upon. She struggles against the binds just a little, before instinct warns her that Sir may be in the room after all, judging her, marking her obedience as if a naughty exam. Regardless, she can help but lets out a little sigh behind the gag.
She thinks of Sir wearing that smart outfit he had on the other day, pristine colours that made her admire, made her tummy flip even more than usual. He makes such a mess of her knickers when he dresses like this, speaks to her of all manner of things, but her libido leaps to naughtiness, of pleasing him and being pleased.
She wonders if he's there now, in the room, having undone his trousers, slowly, that he's slowly, silently wanking at watching her struggle. Had she missed the hushed growl of his zip? She listens again. Tries so hard to avoid pressing her thighs together for the shivers it gives her. Her thighs are getting sticky. What will Sir make of them? Or the well of wanton that lies just above.
She panics a moment, before releasing into further subservience. She starts to think of more than Sir there .. that he and a friend, a stranger, might begin to kiss her all over, each hand feeling with smoothing teases, of cris-cross marking her with scratch after scratch. Stinging. Aching. Melting. All.
One of the men licking ravenously at the mess between her legs, whilst the other cums hard all over her bound, forced blind features. She wants one to remove the gag, take a cock in her mouth and beg him to fuck her face. She's never been choked. She yearns to be choked.
Would that Sir, or the stranger, pushed inside her at the same time, just how delicious would that feel!? Fingers edging her to squirting, just to be denied, denied, denied. A cock punishing her roughly, pushing all the way inside, cumming over and over and over within.
If Sir allowed it, and said the other man could, that Miss might take his spunk, and that she'd be allowed to cum. She wants that. She wants that so much. But it's what Sir allows. If he's even there. If it's just Sir, or naughtier still.
Miss was a fuck toy, tied up and at the will of her Man. Laying there dribbling beyond the ball gag, within the darkness, legs pressed and rubbing together, thinking of what Sir might have planned, and when he will play his dark, dark cards.
The intricacies I've introduced her to. A hand tight at...
The intricacies I've introduced her to.
A hand tight at her throat, barely letting pretty Miss gasp for air as she's cumming hard against my cock.
Watching the fight to live, to breathe, feeling delicious brand earthquakes as the insanity as her mind ignites.
She places so much trust in Sir; knowing He knows best, yet scared and excited exist as dangerous bedfellows, each trying to contradict the other, but acknowledging each new convulsion, a rip and a tear in her psyche, sexuality that's new, strange, addiction. A sheer fuck lust she's become ever more hungry for, yet still remains scared.
When Sir think she's shivered and screamed enough, Miss is pulled up as if on an invisible leash - such is the mesmerising hold he has on her - and placed on all fours.
Let shiver, scared, fantastically climaxed and barely alive meet the sting of Sir's firm hand. That which guides her to new degrees of wetness scathe down and sting her backside. Each wave of ouch thundering through pleasure, confused, excited and making her wetter, often adding further fuel to the orgasmic fire.
Sometimes Sir lets Miss finger her clit as he hits her. Miss likes this, but she only knows she's allowed when he tells her "Good Girl". At times he'll insert fingers inside her, stir them between each hurting thunderclap beat. He says he's tempted to fuck her. Miss can't help but plead a whispered "Please"
Sometimes Sir believes she should wait, as infuriating as it is intoxicating, as she yearns for ever increasing pink marks colouring her bottom, scarring her soul.
It ties her up in pretty knots inside, but she understands sir knows best, and recalls that the orgasm Sir allows her after subsequent denials is enough to shake her ghost.
In daily moments she's wetter than she's ever been. Sir's naughty stories, little notes and whispers of sinful prospects have left her thighs sticky, command her to fingerfuck even when he's not there. Sometimes she has to. She told Sir and sometimes he allows it. Sometimes he says no.
Sir knows best, as he leads her on a journey naughtier than she's known. He's in her head, he's affecting her knickers - and she wants him over and over and over.
And thankfully, Sir feels exactly the same about her ;)
She had a boyfriend, but you wouldn't know it by the way...
She had a boyfriend, but you wouldn't know it by the way she deviated, of what she considered cheating, of the danger and games that kept her wet and wanton for her man.
I couldn't resist her. From the first moment she moved past me in the store room, the scent of her perfume mixed with her fingernails brushing over the front of my suit. I was shocked as she moved past, tingling like fucking crazy, growing harder against my boxers, caught in the duality of whether to feel appalled or turned on.
She didn't look me in the eye as she moved past with the box of pens she'd (allegedly) been after, just another run over the front of my trousers with those nails. The sound of a cheeky giggle as she realised the throb she'd created.
The next time she was in there, I checked for watching eyes, then moved to the store room. Ignoring her as I was in there, searching for paperclips, highlighters, whatever was near, wondering if I dare make a move. I was straining inside my suit, the thought having lingered for long enough for the inside of my underwear to feel sticky from all the gentle rocking against the cotton.
She looked to see if she was going to get any attention, but I ignored her. As she turned away I moved behind her, ran her hand up her skirt. Catching her gasp, I whispered "Two can play at that game", brushed my fingertips softly over the front of her knickers, then left.
I was blushing like crazy, trying my best to get back to my desk without anyone making any Anchorman 'pleated pants' jokes, as I watched on towards the store room. No sign of her.
As I composed myself, put on a jacket to hide the obvious, I returned to the store room. As I peeked inside I saw her, back up against the wall, skirt raised, hand running over the front of her underwear. Not slight teasing, mind, but pushing herself, throbbing.
I moved inside and shut the door with a soft 'click'. She looked shocked, tried to re-arrange herself, then moved past me towards the door. As she got close I saw her expression change, a deliciously naughty sparkle in her eyes, and then she left.
I was in half a mind to play right there. To put my back against the wall and tease my cock, lost in the scent of her, bought the store bought and that of the lustrous, lost in the visions of such a pretty Miss caught in my violation, that I dare rise to her game, and her being flustered into the finger her clit right there and then.
I didn't see her in the office thereafter and wondered where she'd gone. I was curious if she'd left for lunch, else gone into the bathroom and finished herself off there.
Days later in the work kitchen she wandered in, made a coffee, smiling breezily about the beautiful sunshine outside. No sign of the naughtier side of her, so I made small talk, a drink and chatted with her. Perhaps she'd had a change of mind, thought better of what had occurred Then she mentioned 'we should do lunch'.
My mind curved over possibilities, did she mean getting a bite to eat and the same sort of friendliness that transpired in the break room, or something as sordid as the store room. As it happened, the answer was both.
The first day was a sandwich, the sunshine, getting to know one another. It's here I found out she had a boyfriend, but little beyond that. I wondered if he satisfied her, if it was one of those occasions where he earned lots of money, but had a dick the side of an acorn and a sex drive so vanilla that he might as well be fucking ice cream.
The second day it rained. She drove us back to her house. As we got through the door, she removed my tie, pushed my jacket off my shoulders and unpicked the first few buttons of my shirt.
"Carry on," she said, moving back to the wall to watch me undress, lifting her skirt as she had in the store room, playing over her panties as she saw me strip down to my boxers. An eyebrow raised once i'd stopped, indicating she wanted me to go on. As I looked back she slipped a finger inside her knickers and sighed. That was enough to make me lose my calvins, as I stood there, watching her tease her clit, throbbing.
The options - should I make a move to fuck her, push her down and just ravage her, or else start to play with my cock in time with the push between her legs. Honestly, I was spellbound by the sight of her, my body tingling within the danger and recklessness of the moment. When I did move to touch my cock, she removed her fingers from her underwear, shook one of them in a very mistress like 'no, no, no' fashion, and laid me down on the ground.
She undressed for me, right down to her yellow knickers and straddled me. No words were said, just the electricity of eye contact, the sheer deviant relief of feeling her hand, those painted nails, clasp around my cock and start to wank me. Faster and faster and faster, revelling in my reactions, of my purrs turning to moans, gasps becoming louder - and I'm far from a quiet gentleman when pushed - until I started to cum.
Jets of hot spunk shot from my cock over her chest as she delighted in seeing me so shaken, so fucking horny, of me cumming so much. As she milked my cock, my cum was running past her breasts, down her tummy and over her panties.
She smoothed ravenous fingers over it and thrust them into her underwear, using my cum as lubricant to frig herself as ravenously as she'd pushed my cock. I was still hard in her hand watching, her eyes closed for a moment as she lost herself to the fingerfuck, before opening them again and consuming the look I was throwing her, the hardness in her hand, and that all adding to the way she screamed, before trying to smother the volume, but biting her lip in a way that exuded desire.
There's after there was no time for anything more, even if anything more could have or should have happened. We got dressed, cleaned up, returned to work. There were no words said in the car on the way back, nor have we spoken in the office since.
Has she gotten what she wanted, or is she making me wait, want her, to do something even more rash than my previous approach. Is she as horny about the whole affair as I am, of the unpredictable recklessness that makes me tease as I cast my mind back. In the shower, in bed when I can, in those times elsewhere when I can't and the memory eats me alive.
Is she teasing over the same thing, or she mysteriously back in love with with Mr vanilla Acorn Dick, The Rich? Perhaps she's waiting for the right moment as well.
It might be time for a return to the store room. Y'know, just to see what happens ;)
Miss finds the pretty ones, tempts them with friendship, but...
Miss finds the pretty ones, tempts them with friendship, but she's the deeply deceptive sort of minx. My lady. So naughty. All the time you're making bonds, sharing giggles, forming bonds - she's talking to me about what you've worn, how delicate your dress and make-up is for the day, but of how she wants to tear off your clothes, to smear your eyes with choke and tears, to break you. She sees you as nothing more than a fuck portal, mere human fleshlight, a bin for Sir to spunk in. And the thought of your downfall makes her so fucking wet.
She'll come home to me, spread her legs on the couch and masturbate, telling of all the particulars - her thoughts, your times shared - of how lovely smiles and lunchtime conversations hide her deviance, of just how sticky she is in her knickers at the thought of destroying you.
She might confide in you further down the line, tell you something naughty and see how you react. That sinful instance shared might become something far kinkier given the right reaction, to build on such momentum. A day later she might ask you if you've been thinking about it, that you can confide in her if it made you damp, if you thought of it and teased that night. That's okay. You're friends.
The following day she might have a secret she keeps from you, a something she probably shouldn't share. I know what it is, because we fucked like crazy thinking about suggesting it to you, being on the cusp of consuming you with lust. She tells you of the night before, of fucking me and thinking of you there, watching, masturbating. She couldn't get that out of her mind. Given your reaction she might tell you that she thought of you sucking my cock, of me spunking wildly all over your face.
I might surprise you both by 'bumping into you' on lunch the following day. My finest suit and cologne, my smile and words welcoming, with a hint of the flirt-spark my girl both loves and lusts. To then leave you both to talk and stew for the next week. The girl now has a face to put to the fucking. The someone she can imagine you fucking, thinking of her. To tempt her into knowing more about the debauchery we get up to. Of how she's now factoring into such thoughts and fuck play.
Mention to her that you shared all these secrets with me, apologise, but say that all of the naughtiness you passed on made me so fucking hard, drove me wild with desire, that the fuck you received left you trembling. Intimate that I had my eyes closed thinking of the girl being forced over my cock as she sucked me, her face, her open mouth that I imagined cumming in and all over. That it was you doing the forcing. Blush and break it to her that you like the idea.
Let her marinade in ardor's push-pull of such all afternoon, to then go home, explore all mindsets in tease and caress. Dare the pretty Miss be pushed in such a way? Is this something she fingered herself over anyway? Let the bird out of the cage and see how she flies.
For all intents and purposes, she's now 'The Girl'
Invite her over. Suited, I'll seduce her. Raise your dress, my love, as I unbutton her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Rub over your knickers as I dance over her pantyhose, as I impart ever-tempting circles against her clit. Watch as The Girl melts into my eyes, my kiss - as your heart quivers with jealously, yet still you plunge ravenous fingers deep into your hungry cunt.
May your purrs and moans stoke the lust in her yet further, a throbbing warmth that's making the tips of my fingers hotter and wetter with each caress I impress between her leg.
My rough hand smoothing over her crisp pressed blouse, squeezing her breasts. You watch and can't help but do the same, reaching into your blouse, pinching your nipple hard.
Your desire to hurt is rising. It makes my cock throb. I take her hand and place it over my suit trousers. The Girl is captivated, squeezing over it - all in time to the way I'm rubbing her. I turn her around to watch you instead of me, as I unbutton her blouse, start lucking and sucking on her breasts, using the extra leeway to pull her tights down, push my fingers past her knickers and deep into her pussy. Swirling. Swirling. Finding places and space that spark fireworks in her soul - as The Girl watches you, her friend, submerging three fingers hard and fast into your sopping sex.
It's then you get up, push me back and you grip tightly upon her once styled locks. Scolding her with language, threats and desires, you blindfolding her with my tie, demand her as a pet, on all fours. Removing my belt, you whip at her, demanding obedience. Wild lashes purely for noise and effect, mixed with those designed to mark and sting. I watch, remove my cock from my trousers, my boxers and tease over the sight of the two of you. My cock tip sticky with pre-cum. I run my finger over and lick it. Only you can see. That's just for you.
I get to my feet, beckon you both onwards. Bring your pretty new puppy over to me, manipulate her to kneeling and ram her down onto my cock. Deep into the back of her throat. Time and time again. You're devouring my desires, consuming her deflowering. I can only imagine how sticky you are. Of just how much you want to play.
Give her sight again. Bind my tie around The Girl's throat so she can barely breathe, make her beg for my seed all over her. Open her mouth that naer a single drop be spilled. Then, sullied with spunk, bind her to a chair and let her simmer. Her once perfect face bleak with mascara and dripping in sin, as The Girl struggles with the will to play, yet is unable to, purely by our devious designs.
Only you get my fuck. Let her watch and want it - screaming to join in. Little pools on the chair suggest 'yes' so much she's melting, not purely of my cum falling from her features, but perverse tears of wanting that are all her own. You grant her a freed hand, watch her finger with deviant abandon, blushing with at embarrassment and wanton, the collision of lust and innocence decimated with absolute desire, using my cum as extra lubrication, thrusting it further inside.
Your carnality increases at watching her erupt. It makes me steal your gaze, fuck you faster, harder, make you lose yourself in me. Now I'm the jealous one. Looking on makes her torment her teasing all the more frequently. Aww, pretty Miss .. would you like to join in?
Bring her to bed. We'll kiss every stinging, tingling inch of her. Both licking any semblance of semen remaining on her face, from inside her cunt. Amplifying every stinging, singing pore, we'll take turns in fucking her.
Seeing you ride her face is glorious, especially when she makes you cum. Our dearly manipulated responds so well to being told "Good girl!" for her performance. It's then The Girl deserves my cock, every ounce of my energy as I savagely take her, consumed once more by such vivid cravings. Watching you tease her breasts, tell her how pretty she is. of how you want her to cum.
When The Girl starts to climax you move behind and insert a finger inside me. Turning it around and around, you insist I cum when she does. Fingering my bottom until I cry out and spunk deep in her cunt, adding to her shivers and screams. As I pull out, you quickly move to suck my cock clean, then lay tongue every ounce of my cum from inside her. Makes her cum again.
Should we have this one back again to play with? Or will you now have new targets, a new someone to imagine, deflower and bring home? It's making me hard thinking about it. And knowing that, I'm damn sure it's making you wet.
Daddy's favourite daughter, she of the genes and the...
Daddy's favourite daughter, she of the genes and the beauty, the cut glass accent and everything she wants. Her father's my boss, the man who signs the cheques, with an attitude that screams of everyone being lower than him. His daughter comes into the office often, I presume to ask for monetary somethings that he throws in her direction with naer a thought.
She's always looked over at me, presumably with me being a stubble jawed 'bit of rough' that her parents simply wouldn't approve of. I'd always cast a polite smile in return, sometimes admittedly with my eyes, and then gotten on with work. I had no idea what she'd be passing on, of who she truly was, but if she's anything like the snot of a man behind the oak desk, then that's where I lay my presumptions.
Then came the day at the office when it was just the two of us. She was waiting for her father to take her to some event or other, I was sorting out a few of the bits i'd had no time to do otherwise. She began asking questions, perhaps to pass the time, or it would have been that she was curious. I'd given her more glances than usual, both of etiquette as well as stolen looks to check her out more fully.
She asked if I was single, to which I nodded, and she asked why. "I think the reasons behind that are far too saucy to be discussing with the boss's daughter," I replied. This lead to her looking out of the window, a bitten lip and a few more glances. The tension in the air a little naughtier, I noticed her cross her legs, press her thighs together, wondering if she was getting wet considering the possibilities. The more I thought about it, the harder I got, so I moved into another room until I could .. feel a little calmer. When I returned she was blushing a little. Legs crossed and uncrossed again. The eyes she through at me were more cautious now, body language as if she wanted to ask a sentence that she dared not. I needed to go into the room beyond the desk she was sitting on. When I returned, I took a risk..
Leaning in, my soft stubble brushing over her neck and cheek, I spoke, hardening at the expensive scent of her, the danger of the situation. "Truly naughty girls are hard to find. I have a very powerful imagination and a high sex drive. I like to scratch, to bite, to play and spank. Blossom each pore of skin with kisses and licks as much as tear into them with nails and teeth. But I expect such attentions in return. And there lies the problem"
With that I left the office, didn't see how she'd reacted afterwards. On my way out I recalled something i'd left behind and returned to the room. As I got closer I peered through the crack in the door just before I pushed it. Her skirt was raised, legs spread, eyes closed and she was playing over very damp knickers. Playing softly at first, as if exploring the sin i'd implanted in her mind, then faster and faster. I watch as the spoiled Miss pushed herself to climax, and all from my naughty little thought. I existed as a virus in her mind. I wonder if she'd play again when she got home, or take it out on her boyfriend after fucking croquet or whatever the upper classes play.
I have to say that being so brash, of watching language have such an effect on her made me throb. When I got home I could barely throw off my jacket and get my suit trousers unzipped before I was teasing my cock, eyes closed as her were, thinking about what had happened, thinking about her unrestrained by underwear and finger fucking viscously thinking about taking things one step further. Musing on her fucking Tarquin or whatever her chap's name might be and wanting filth, scratches and attentions beyond the blah.
When she visited the office thereafter, my looks suggested I knew what she'd done. She blushed and walked away often, lost in the thought that she'd been seen, presumably. I wonder if that made her sticky. As I saw her entering the building's bathroom I could only imagine her, back against the wall, plunging painted fingernails under expensive underwear and whimpering softly as she came. Soon those glances of her became a smile.
The next time we were alone she took my hand and bundled me into her car. She drove us to what I thought was a hotel, but could just as likely have been something her family owned. She sat me down, stepped back and stripped for me - very, slowly. She'd stolen control and my eyes were all over her. Watching each button of her blouse smoothly pop under manicured fingertips, skirt and stocking smooth to the floor, expensive heels falling prior. I saw her bra unclipped, hard nipples that longed to be bitten and kissed - for that's what was on her mind. As my eyes lingered over them, electricity in the look we shared. It was then she sat and spread her legs, the damp patch over her underwear revealed blatantly her expression of embarrassment and lust, before she slid them off and lay on her front.
My turn to strip for her. An emphasis on my tie, the noise it made as I removed it, a flexing between both hands to intimate it could be a gag, reins, blindfold - i'll let her mind and sticky cunt consider the possibilities. Shoe ties delicately undone, the ching, flip of my belt, trousers undone. She could see me hard in my boxers. I teased out the moment my running my fingers over the front, pushing her hidden sigh to a moan when I squeezed over them.
I recalled how much I fucking hate her father, and here lays his Princess, with a man he'd never approve of, that he probably despises. And her e I am about to fuel all that into fucking his pretty girl. Making her scream over and over, choking her when she tried to cum, marking scratches over the little fucker as if branding her mine. Indelible scars that will sting and make her want this over and over. Spanking her backside until it's pink and painful, licking her clit and them spanking that as climax ignites.
True revenge, true filth and absolute danger awaits. She's looking at me as if unsure she's doing the right thing, but oh so wet at the possibilities. The pretty rich Miss who has everything, yet i'm going to make her want me. Through pleasure and pain, fuck and denial, ignored and caress.
True, I may lose my job over this, but it's infinitely worth it. And the more the scorn and deception increases, the more fucking delicious it gets. ;)
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