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#PegaPolitician: Melania’s Trigger, FLOTUS and US Marine Revenge Fuck Romance

 

Disclaimer: this is fiction. I took it upon myself to get Melania laid.  

 

January 20, 2017

The hallway was strangely dark and had the same tension as racehorses being loaded into the starting gate: jittery underneath all that statesmen calm.

Her stomach rolled again and a bouquet of emotions bloomed. Rage that the bastard just got out of the car and walked away. Equal parts recoil and gratitude toward the Obamas for gathering her up and guiding her toward the entry. How strange to accept their help knowing they are the enemy!

 

Michelle slipped right into some easy small talk when a stunning Marine strode up and Michelle said, “Hi Trigger,”

“Good Morning, Mrs. Obama.”

“Future First Lady Melania Trump, meet Captain Colin O’Connor, or as the fellas call him, ‘Trigger’.”

Melania gave him her practiced wince of a smile and offered her gloved hand. Rather than shaking it, he gripped it.

This whole thing was surreal enough, but the openness of his expression, the turquoise of his eyes, how alive he was, how…unlike Donald. The snowpack inside of her thawed as his smile deepened. Kurbin sin! Melania swore inwardly as her fake smile fell right off.

“Good Morning, Mrs. Trump.”

“Good Morning, Captain O’Connor.” The New First Lady listened politely as Michelle explained that Trigger was to be her escort down the steps to witness her husband’s swearing in. In fact, he would accompany her on many of her official appearances.

How was she to interpret Mrs. Obama’s glowing recommendation of the young man? Come to think of it, she seemed so attached; she actually gave him a kiss on the cheek like old friends.

Everyone was moved down the hall by an invisible force when Melania wobbled.

“Are you alright, Ma’am?” his voice was warm with concern.

“I em fine.” The smile returned and she thought, Noooo, Melania. You should not.

Even the voice inside Melania’s head purrs.

“I am just a little nervous,” she cast her eyes down deliberately, deploying one of her own weapons. But I could if I wanted to.

“There is no need to be nervous, Mrs. Trump. I’m going to help you every step of the way. And it’s a high honor to serve you today.”

Melania forgot herself and licked her lips – then it was in the back of her mind for the rest of the ceremony that her lipstick was flawed, but no matter.

He held her gaze with the certainty of a man who would give his life for his country. It was very very sexy, she observed.

“Is very very kind of you. To, how you say, assure me. Thank you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Trump.” Oh please don’t remind me.

“Maybe to distract me, you can tell me about you, where you are from, where you serve…” these last phrases she elongated like a little song.

“Well, Ma’am, I’m from South Carolina originally, I’m a Citadel graduate, and I served in Afghanistan –“

The music started up and the crowd made that raspy racket on the Capitol Mall and a signal passed from person to person. She looked at him and the anxiety tightened her face once again and something compelled him to move a few inches closer and say to her: “You look incredible. Ignore all the noise and faces and cameras, and just focus on my voice. Okay?”

 

She took a big breath and sighed, “thank you. Thank you, young man.”

“Really, Mrs. Trump, the pleasure is all mine.” She took his arm in her gloved hand. He gave her a very gentle squeeze. For a split second, she felt right through the glove and his uniform so that her knuckles pressed his ribs.

They started moving through the hallway. Cameramen scuttled backwards like crabs to follow their progress. They stepped out into the light.

“We’ll stop here for a moment,” his voice was soft and low, and Melania held up her hand and gave the wave.

“Alright, ready?”

“Yes, thank you, Colin.”

“Please, Ma’am, my friends call me Trigger.”

She actually allowed herself a little hiccup of laughter.

“How do you get this name?”

The camera reappeared and they both straightened into a more formal pose.

They began the descent on the carpeted stairs and there was a long moment of silence between them where their only point of contact was her hand on his arm, and yet she felt as if she was being carried.

How long, she thought as she watched her perfectly pointy powder blue pumps take her down the steps, has it been since someone touched me.

She could not actually remember.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and he said to her, “This is where I let you go, Mrs. Trump,” and she felt him release her next to Barron, who glared at her for a single second and then ignored her. She simply nodded a thank you and he moved off to attend to the rest of the party.

Something inside her collapsed. Then her husband became President.

He grabbed her by the arm and berated her before the luncheon. She didn’t touch her food, but it smelled amazing. She just stared at her plate and fantasized about wrapping her thighs around Captain Colin’s shaved head. Trigger.

Having a pretty good idea of the chaos that was about to ensue, she fled back to New York as soon as she could. But guess who came with her?

One evening she had given Barron her customary doorway “good night” when she found herself yet again alone. She had her own wing and armed guards stood sentry outside Barron’s rooms.

It had been a particularly horrible day with Donald and so very an expensive bottle of wine was breathing on the marble countertop. The room was so immense that she could stop and look out all the windows one at a time and it would take hours.

Melania was checking Instagram when there was a knock on her door.

“Ma’am, it’s me, Trigger.” She looked down at her Ellen Fisher sweater and panicked.

“Eh, yes, I’m here,” she wanted desperately to open the door, but she also couldn’t let the Melania brand down, he was the last person she wanted to see her like this.

“Uh, Ma’am, I’m escorting you to the airport tomorrow, I just wanted to check in with you, make sure you have everything you need.”

“Oh yes, thank you, ah, can you wait for a moment please?”

“Sure Ma’am, take as long as you need.”

Like a flash, Melania whipped through the penthouse to her closet. Too many choices, too many choices! What do you wear that says please take me, my husband is a brute, I’m dying for a real man…

A burgundy blouse emerged as the right suggestion and she walked through a little puff of perfume before pounding back across the penthouse to open the door. She swung it open to the startling blue of his eyes.

Oh he has his non-military clothes on. How much easier to take this shirt off.

“Everything okay, Mrs. President?”

“Please, call me Melania, Trigger,” she let her accent roll the ‘r’ just a little and opened her arm out, compelling him to step inside. She closed the door.

“So you are off duty right now?”

“That’s right, Ma’am, you’ve got Secret Service outside like usual.”

“So you must have a drink with me, I open this lovely bottle of wine and no one is here to share it with me.”

“Oh, I don’t know, good wine would probably be wasted on me, Melania.”

I melt when he use my name.

“Oh please, I insist, is such good wine, and I am your boss, yes?”

He gave her a bashful smile and relented, “Ok, if you insist, Mrs., I mean, Melania.”

It’s working, she thought. I can get some sex and some revenge on Donald. Secret revenge.    

She flitted over to the counter and found two glasses.

“Funny, I thought you and your husband don’t drink?”

“I hardly ever,” they both watched the ruby fluid circle gracefully into each glass sphere. “Donald doesn’t drink at all, he hate it, actually.”

“He’s a teetotaler,” Trigger joked.

“A what?” she handed him the wine.

“A Teetotaler. It’s from prohibition. There was a whole movement that said alcohol was the ruin of society, that it turned people into demons…”

“Oh maybe I’m trying to turn you into a demon,” she joked. Trigger gave an awkward chuckle and tapped her glass with his.

They both took a sip and the way the flavor burned sweetly, its pungent fruit and biting alcohol made them both flush. And then, it made them laugh.

“Wow,” he said with a look of disbelief that was adorable to her. “I have never tasted a better wine in my life.”

“Really? Then you must drink more wine!” They laughed again and took another sip.

“It keeps getting better.” She knew what she was doing when she met his eyes as she tipped her glass and pursed her lips. The color of the wine matched her blouse nice touch and he seemed to be seeking someplace to put his hands.

“Please,” she gestured again, “let’s sit. We finish our wine, then I let you go. I know we have early morning flight.”

“Yes,” he said slowly, and followed her toward the couch. Everything was grey here, with hints of pearl and violet, unlike the gold in Donald’s rooms.

They sat and he asked her questions.

“You know, this might surprise you, but I spent some time in your country,” he said.

“Really? During your service?”

“No actually. My great-grandfather was Slovenian.”

“Really?” How sweet it was he was trying to relate to her, but that wasn’t what she wanted.

“It’s so gorgeous, I had no idea how beautiful it is.”

She smiled again, and cast off into some other thought.

“Melania?”

Oh please god. “Yes?”

I know the transition into the White House can be kind of, tough. Are you managing okay?”

It could have been the wine, or the genuine concern on his face but something in her snapped. Out it poured: her rage at Donald, the constant dueling with his children, the heartbreak of Barron’s callous rejection. She was sobbing like an injured seal and she put her hands over her face out of sheer embarrassment.

And then, warmth encircled her and she came out of the dark of her hands to find that Captain Trigger was holding her.

“Melania, I am so sorry you are this unhappy.” It was the most love anyone had given her in the longest time.

She tore off her wine-colored blouse. “Please touch me, Trigger.”

He hesitated.

 

A new horror appeared on her face – she had misread the signals. She wriggled free of him and tried to recoup the blouse.

“Melania,” he said again, “please, it’s not that I don’t want you.”

She had her back to him, bisected by her black bra, her blouse in her hands. “Then what?”

“It’s that I’m crossing a seriously an unethical line by fucking the President’s Wife.

“No,” she turned toward him, calculating, reassuring, “you do the ethical thing, I am First Lady, and I need this. This is what I need.”

She could see he was still dangling over the immense chasm of risk, unable to let go. So she whipped out her Trump card, which also happened to be the truth. “Donald has not touched me since I am pregnant with Barron.”

That did it. A man like this could not let a woman like her go unfucked.

Trigger stripped her of her bra and his mouth found her collarbones as he undid the drawstring and slid her silk pants off of her. I’m going to get penetrated, she jumped for joy on the inside, by something other than my vibrator.

Trigger gave her body the same level of attention he had exhibited that day in the hall at the Inaugural: he swept his chiseled face back and forth across her belly, using his warm palms to clasp her breasts. She looked down and reveled in the smooth, taut planes of his face. Youth.  Happiness. Fuck Me.

Stretched out on the long grey couch perfectly naked and exposed, her hair aflail, her makeup smeared, Melania had crossed over, passed the carefully curated sexiness to the glittering creature engrossed in the ritual. Her slim thighs came apart, and he crouched beside her and spread the lips of her pussy so that his finger could draw a slow line up and down her hairless VJ.

“Yes, please,” she begged immediately. “Oh please touch me, any way you want,”

“If you need it this badly,” his smile grew sinister, “I’m going to take my time and do it right.” This elicited a squeak of pleasure from Melania.

He licked his two middle fingers and nestled them between her pussy lips before sliding them inside of her. She wailed, and he covered her mouth with his other hand.

“Shhh,” he cautioned, “we can’t have the Secret Service in here asking what’s the matter, can we?”

She nodded, her eyes half-closed, her hips wriggling involuntarily.

“Good,” he said and went back to sliding his fingers in and out of her lavishly wet pussy.

 

The feeling of his hand over her mouth was a shock: she loved it. She could actually scream into his hand and he muffled the sound. Her legs shuddered as his ripped arm flexed back and forth, driving his fingers into her.

“Is this what you need so badly, Melania?” Fuck, yes, oh god, I need it, I need to come

He sped up and she got a sense of just how strong he was, how aware of his body he was as his arm pummeled her underside with the perfect amount of pressure.

The first orgasm washed through her like that high-speed train she rode one time in Japan, complete with the roaring Doppler effect, complete with the full body spasm and the hush afterward.

But it didn’t last nearly long enough: she wanted more. Melania rose off the couch and started tearing at Trigger’s pants.

“Don’t say no to me,” she said in a commanding tone that surprised even her.

“I wasn’t gonna,” he let her dispose of his pants and then he climbed on top of her.

His ass, it is flawless, like if Tiffany and Company make it. While she had the chance, she reached down and embraced both of his sculpted ass cheeks.

The moment he pushed his tensile cock into her shiny pussy, she cut loose with another scream. “You still have to be quiet,” he implored as he commenced the fucking.

She guided his hand back over her mouth and her eyes rolled back in her head.

They did not get much sleep that night and he waited until he knew Secret Security had rotated so his overnight would go undetected.

The next day, in the private jet, he sat across from her in his uniform with an outlandish grin on his face.

She did her best to keep her expressions neutral. I did it, and I’m not sad. I have some control now, whether Donald realize or not. I am a woman, and I deserve to get fucked like a woman.

Throughout the first year of her husband’s presidency, Melania now had a very effective coping strategy:

When Donald told Bridgette Macron: “You’re in such good shape,” he said. “She’s in such good physical shape. Beautiful.” Melania put on a bustier and let Trigger take her from behind in the home theater while he watched porn.

After the “Puerto Rico is an island!” statement and the subsequent tossing of paper towels at hurricane victims, Melania surprised Trigger by greeting him in a full latex cat suit holding a bottle of lube. In what seemed to be an omen that they were meant to fuck like this, he brought some toys and had fun inserting them into the various holes while she lay perfectly still.

Donald stood on the platform at Fort Myers and said “Melania really wanted to be with us, it’s really touched her heart,” when she was standing right next to him. They didn’t even wait to get back to DC, Trigger met her at her trailer where he could lock the door and she could hang from the skylight as he pounded her from below.

I don’t even need Pilates anymore!

But the morning she sat eating her bowl of fruit and sipping her skinny tea, she got a blip on her phone and read the headline:

Trump Lawyer Arranged $130,000 Payment for Adult-Film Star’s Silence

It did not shock her one bit that Donald has been with a porn star, nor did the hush money surprise her. No, what really bit her on both tits was the timing: Barron was four months old when Donald fucked the other woman. A memory flooded in.

After the birth, she had a C-section and a tummy tuck, immediately put the baby on purchased breast milk so her tits wouldn’t suffer, and got back on her diet. But the sewn up gash on her belly and her engorged breasts conspired with the gale of hormones and she felt like road kill. All that was motherhood, normal, yes?

Yes, but the real dagger there, the spike in the jugular was what he said. Her body was “a mess,” and having a baby had “ruined her. ” She curled up on the bed around her son as Donald left.

She shook herself free from the memory. Barron was back in school and she was scheduled to go to Davos. She called her assistant and changed her plans.

“I saw the WSJ today,” texted Trigger. “Do you need me?”

“Yes,” she texted back, “I will need you to accompany me to Mar-a-Lagos.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Notify me when you are ready to leave.”

She looked at herself in the mirror before sliding her sunglasses on. She looked great with her Givenchy and her perfectly highlighted hair. Not great for 47, just great. But the hollow feeling was there, the battering fist that punched her organs from the inside.

She sat across from Captain O’Connor on the jet and when the flight attendants left them alone, she parted her legs and showed him her lack of underwear.

“Fuck, woman,” he grunted and moved the tray table aside.

“Take out your dick,” she drawled. He unzipped his fly and let his-semi hard pipe fall out of his pants.

“I need spanking today, Captain. I am very bad.”

“I can see that. I can also see that you need this inside you.”

“Yes, and it is your job to take care of my needs.”

“I’m happy to be of service, Madame President.”

Off the jet, holding his arm in the way that was now customary for both of them, they hopped in the car and when they arrived at Club, they entered her private suite separately.

Trigger wasted no time unpacking a duffle brimming with toys, restraints, and military gear.

There was a bottle of red wine open with two glasses at the ready but they only drank out of one.

She took a sip and closed her eyes, letting that first, sacred flourish of flavor wash her palette. This was now a familiar part of the ritual, the real moment where she disobeyed. He tasted it and kissed her.

“Here are all the implements of torture I am going to use on you, Melania.”

“Be merciful, Captain.”

“I think you know me better than that.”

The dress was suddenly gone and Melania was already down on her knees in her pretty lingerie, her hands resting face up on her thighs.

Trigger sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt flung off, his pants sloughed down around his hips, his hard cock wagging.

A fistful of her hair led her face to his crotch where she opened her mouth and welcomed in his entire length. He told her what a good slut she was as he flogged her needy ass. She spread her hipbones and sucked with closed eyes, the whap of the flogger producing a soft little grunt from her each time.

Again he grabbed her by the hair and brought her to the bed with her ass in the air, really laying the flogger down hard on each flank.

She yipped like a fox while he penetrated her with four fingers. Vag juice dripped onto the bed and the duvet already had mascara prints.

Finally, he tossed the flogger aside and came up behind her, nudging her knees farther apart. “That’s a good girl,” he soothed as slid into her. “Open up and take it.” Her pussy surrendered gratefully.

Trigger rocked her back and forth with an almost sadistic deliberation while she writhed and bucked at his cock. Her nails snarled the bed and she begged for him to fuck her harder, faster, but he made her wait.

Her whole body was convulsing and she seemed to be floating outside of it somewhere when he thumped her hard and started driving into her g-spot with quick controlled jabs. Her little frame seemed not to contain the voltage ratcheting up inside her.

“You can come now, Melania, come with me,” and she squirted as she rhapsodized in Slovenian at the top of her lungs. Trigger gushed inside her a moment later and her tailbone tucked reflexively, drawing his hot jizz deeper inside her.

He drew her a bath, let her take a nap, eat something, and then her put her pussy to work again. When she wasn’t soaking or getting a facial, she was getting mercilessly Marine fucked.

It was January 20, 2018, the one year anniversary of meeting Trigger. Oh and her husband’s thing.

When she asked him over the phone, Donald told her that the thing with Stormy was “none of her fucking business.” Melania hung up immediately and tossed the phone.

But then she retrieved it, opened Twitter, and selected the photo of her and Trigger descending the stairs on Inauguration Day, a genuine smile on her face.

“This has been a year filled with many wonderful moments I’ve enjoyed the people I’ve been lucky enough to meet throughout our great country & the world!”

The best part, Melania thought as she rolled over in bed and gently bit Trigger’s bicep, is that Donald is so stupid, he never get it.

 

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Smutty Storytelling Podcast E.2 Out Now! Sex Languages: Romance vs. Porn vs. Erotica

Our second podcast hits the digital stands!

It’s pretty clear to everyone now (it was only obvious to women before) that we live in an atmosphere choked with toxic masculinity.  It’s time men and women develop some new tools and approaches, and so as erotica writers and kink practitioners, we have a few suggestions.

In this conversation, T.C. Mill and I make the case for erotica as an effective means of both getting off, and getting at, the fundamentals of sexual communication.

It’s available here on iTunes :

https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/smutty-storytelling/id1311725348?mt=2

And here on Soundcloud:

Thanks for listening, may all beings be sexy and free.

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Rehaunting

You aren’t expecting

this sudden appearance

you were sure you’d never see again

your ghost arrives to rehaunt you

explaining with a tortured brow

and such earnestness

and you have to say, well,

I guess it wasn’t that bad

not knowing

why you left

after a beautiful moment

after several hours

of beautiful moments.

The only conclusion

was that you were alone in thinking

it was, in fact,

beautiful.

But no.

Now your ghost says:

it was!

i just wasn’t ready

i just couldn’t deal

with all that beauty

                                                         ~betinacipher 2018
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Smutty Storytelling: A Podcast on the Craft of Erotic Fiction

 

We’re up on iTunes!  If listening to erotica nerds geek out on POV, characterization, tense and other nuts and bolts, this is your next stop.

https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/id1311725348

Please give us some comments, questions, and feedback in the iTunes store!

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Sweet Resting Face: First Time in Chastity

femdom, naughty school teacher

 

Originally published on Literotica.

 

“Perhaps one of my favorite paintings in the whole museum is this portrait of Madam de Pompadour by Francois Boucher. This was one of many paintings the artist completed of the Marquise. She was clearly an object of fascination for him beyond his duty as the royal portrait-maker, because none of the other royals were immortalized with the same quantity.” The tourists smiled politely but since this was the end of the tour, he knew their minds were on sitting and eating.

“It’s not just that she represents the height of elegance and taste at the time, she is also shown here as a potent intellect, an ambassador of the Enlightenment. Note that she looks as though we, the viewers, are interrupting her precious reading time.” The crowd murmured its appreciation.

Alex shook some hands and answered some additional questions before he strolled at his usual docent pace back to the office. His dark hair cut and combed just how his Mistress likes it, his dress shirt a powder blue that she had admired aloud in the past.

He wore his Mona Lisa smile, his sweet resting face, an emblem of his servitude. He could barely wait to get home, but he savored the anticipation.

On the metro, he thought of her. He had been uncertain about the cage, but as soon as she put it on him and hung the key around her luminous neck, something in him shifted. He could not form the feeling into words other than describe it physically: the cold steel containing his cock and balls. But somehow being contained had made everything else fluid. And tonight, she was going to take it off.

At his stop, he quickly climbed the stairs and practically sailed down the street to his apartment.

He turned his key in the lock and nudged the door open. The gloaming made the large, simple living room a pearly blue. A single cone of honeyed light from the reading lamp shone down on her red hair. She was coiled and reclined along the sofa, her feet tucked against each other. She looked up from her book. And smiled.

Alex put down his things and took off his clothes, his gaze and his Mistress’ gaze almost a solid thing in the space connecting them. He unbuttoned, unzipped, and shed all those pesky fabrics, just left them in a ring around his nakedness. He came to all fours and crawled to her. She set her book on the table and looked down at him.

“Hello, sweet boy.”

“Hello, Mistress.”

“I am so glad you are home.”

“I thought about nothing else but serving you today.”

She smiled again, and took off her glasses. “Very well. Pick me up, slave, and carry me into the bedroom.”

Alex stood, addressing his Mistress with his arms and lifting her off the sofa, collecting her. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek, a tiny gesture that sent little spasms to his restricted cock.

He lay her down carefully and she lifted her arms so he could raise her soft dress over her head. She turned away deliberately so that his eyes could find her, the fine lines at her eyes, the mauve of her nipples, the strong cage of her ribs. With a new wave of heat, he admired the twinkling gold chain around her neck, where a burnished Victorian key lay nestled between her ample breasts. A primal pulse visibly moved the cage fastened around his genitalia.

She pointed to the floor where he should kneel. She lifted her hips and he removed her panties with great care. Spreading her legs and then her rosy petals, he lapped at her pussy lightly and slowly. She sighed and softened further on the bed, closing her eyes. Alex became lost in his first task, with only his insistent, cramped prick reminding him he was still in a body.

A bell tolled in the distance as the light diminished and night seeped in, his Mistress cooing to him, playing with his hair, tugging the back of his head to crush his face against the sweet bloom of her pussy. He nibbled on her clit just as he was taught, and when he felt a climax approaching, he directed his tongue just below her little button and flicked her to her orgasm, lifting the pitch and volume of her cries. She wailed her highest note and then laughed with happy relief. Several times.

A tap on his shoulder and he withdrew, his cock now bulging aggressively at its confines.

“Sit up, sweetness.”

Alex brought himself upright so that he was still on his knees, his face flushed and blissed out.

His Mistress unhooked the chain from her smooth white neck, and leaned over to take his confined cock in one hand. She met his eyes and watched his face intently. With a hush, the key slid into the lock, turned. Gently, she released him and he exhaled. He looked down as his Mistress soothed the soft flesh that had been constrained by the chastity device. Immediately, his cock struck 12.

“You have responded so well to being caged, my sweet boy,”

“I am so glad you are pleased, Mistress.”

“Stand up.”

He stood and assumed the position with his hands on his head. She tugged gently on his testes, letting her fingertips roll the skin around his swollen orbs. He fell into his deep breathing, also part of his training to keep control of himself, to last as long as she needed him to.

His Mistress brushed her forehead along the stretch of skin below his navel before she placed a single kiss at the top of his shaft. The first contact of her lips shot arrows of sensation through his groin. A crystal of precum already perched on the little smile of his urethra, and she tapped it with a fingertip and rubbed it in a little circle on his head before blowing across it, cooling the very finest point of his body.

Then she enveloped his penis completely with her mouth, squeezing his sack with one hand. She pumped down and back slowly three times with the full suction of her mouth before letting him go. His cock almost cried at the sudden lack of her lips.

Again she pointed and brought him on all fours, this time on the bed with his ass in the air. She placed a hand on each of his cheeks and stroked him, gathering his flesh so she could spread him. “Face down, slave,” she commanded and he brought his forehead down on the bedspread. The hot lash of her tongue drawing wet lines along his taint was almost too much for the recently liberated animal of his cock, but he used his breathing as his Mistress groaned and nipped at his undercarriage.

“So sweet and soft,” she crooned, rubbing her cheeks all over his cheeks as she fondled his dangling balls. He could not help but whimper with pleasure.

“Shh, there there,” she soothed him right before she rimmed him, dipping her tongue into his ring with hummingbird lightness. An agonizing wail escaped him. She withdrew, leaving him gasping and bent over on the bed, his elbows quaking at his sides.

“You must remain calm, slave. Focus.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he croaked. His nuts felt as though they were pounding against each other, matching the frenetic rhythm of his heart. She smiled and scratched down his back, along his ribs, into the fold between his belly and thigh, taking hold of him at his root and using it to shake him gently. Then she released him and the sudden absence of her touch enraged his demanding penis.

A long beat went by.

He was floating, a vessel cut loose from its moorings without the firm tether of his Mistress. He remained still, his only power to bring her back, his obedience. The room was silent except for the night sounds of the city, the streetlights gaining intensity. His ears strained for a sound and when he heard her in the background, his tender hole, his cock, his stomach and heart all seemed to hear her too.

The room darkened. Then the gentle glow of a few candles appeared in the periphery. Her fingers on the back of his thighs let him release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sensed her kneeling behind him, felt the cool shape of her phallus against his inner thigh. Her mouth lavished saliva on his waiting orifice, her hands slick with lube, and he tucked slightly, bracing himself when he realized how hungry she was. Knees on the inside of his knees brought his already vulnerable stance even wider and his heart resumed its thrumming. His cock, once again, insisting on her touch.

“Reach back, slave, and open yourself for me to enter you.” Her voice sounded so warm, assuring him that him she was going to love him from the inside, and a little sob popped out of him. His shoulders pushed into the bed as his hands found his buttocks and pulled them open for his Mistress to tap at his hole. “Such a good boy,” she whispered. She rocked away, then came in close, tapping so gently at his opening that his cock mercilessly wagged in the air. Alex drooled onto the bed.

And then she tapped and stayed, pinning him at one, tiny point of contact. He waited like he was on tiptoe on a tight wire over a canyon. He felt her breasts on his back, her arm sweeping under him, and then suddenly she was inside of him and he let out a true groan.

“Easy, darling boy. Easy. I’m going to take you like this for a long time.” And she started to sway her hips in and out of him, painstakingly, letting her full weight come onto him. She nestled in and ground her pelvis into his, clawing at his back and wrapping an occasional fist around his taut cock.

Alex’s Mistress slithered along her slave’s back, never letting up with her rhythm, as though she wanted to crawl right inside his ass. His face fell slack as she robbed his brain of words. Finally, she straightened up, grabbed his hips and started to properly, forcefully fuck him.

“God, I love working you over, slut, I just love how you open up and take it.”

“Please take me, Mistress, please let me come.”

“No, sweetheart”—she licked her teeth with deep satisfaction at denying him—”you may not come, because I’m still going to use your cock for two or three more orgasms. This is why we put you in the cage, darling, so you learn to save all that boy juice.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he managed to say before words left him again.

She took his rapt, willing hole as the candles burned down to half-mast, leaking wax out into their bowls. Alex was now in some other realm, his asshole stretched and hot and the bed below his Mistress’s cunt damp from the steady dripping of her desire. Neither spoke, just flowed together until Alex’s moans became howls and his Mistress clamped down on his hipbones to deliver her cock deeper into him. A raking, graveling shriek came out of him and a spurt of liquid exited his Mistress as he progasmed and she clenched with sympathetic climax.

She pushed him flat on the bed, giving him permission to relax and quickly detach her harness. He heaved big breaths and his cock burned underneath him. His parameter crackled as he sensed her vacating his space. But a moment later she was at his face, lifting his chin and pressing a cold glass of water to his lips. Their eyes met in the dark and she brushed tears off his thick brown lashes. When he finished drinking, she met his lips in a languid kiss, hushing him, stroking his body, calming him for the next round.

She came to the top of their big beautiful bed, shoved some pillows aside and sprawled in the candlelight. His eyes, first and foremost, loved her, sought her details, her changes, her curiosities. She lifted her copper hair away from her neck and rolled away while his eyes drenched themselves in her classical curves, her gardenia white skin, ample wide hips. In her he saw a living embodiment of so many of the paintings he loved.

He knew it was his job to cup the back of her body, to freely explore her, to suck and study every part of her. Lazing over her flesh with his lips and hands, stroking her curves with the planes of his face in his worship, he thought again of Boucher relishing in his service to his Mistress with sensual strokes of the brush. Alex was free to move her and arrange her limbs however he needed to seek all her delicious secrets, lifting her ankle and consuming her toes.

Then she reached back and grabbed his sprung cock and casually stated, “Enter me.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

The moment he had been waiting for had finally arrived. She had built this moment with careful grooming, with every touch during his chastity achieving an oceanic splendor. Her generous ass presented itself to Alex and he saw the lilting folds of her again, swollen with desire for him. She flexed her spine like a cat and her hand found his shaft so she could guide it to her entrance.

“Make love to me, slave,” she said as he slipped inside her, completing the symmetry of the act, their parts liquefying, their bodies blending and recomposing into one like pigment and oil becoming a saturated hue. He flowed right into her like a tributary and their mutual moans hit the same note before harmonizing, cresting waves of sound, each stroke making a new song.

He remained there on the very edge, waves of disbelief crashed over him that he could last this long after a week of restriction.

Their joy leveled right out of their bodies, as pure a vibration as music or color. When Alex realized he was about to let go, his attention snapped back to his Mistress, who was undulating along the length of his desperate cock. He bore down on his own release and she must have known because she pulled him back in and letting out an animal roar, inviting him to emancipate his cum deep into her depths.

His Mistress drew back with her upper body and met his eyes, her jaw dropped but her face soft with a knowing, loving glance over her shoulder. His cock needed no further permission – his cockhead went molten, bursting inside her in a nebula so bright it seemed to light her up from the inside, her ribcage suddenly billowing, her fingers splayed. She swallowed him from the inside. They popped like a bubble together and dropped to the bed.

The candles sputtered in their trays and the indigo of the sky suggested dawn was on its way. Alex and his Mistress lay meshed together, still, restored by silence. He felt her breathing slowing and it slowed his. He sat up for a moment. He embraced her again. The band of light spanned from dark red to yellow to light blue outside as they easily slipped into sleep, their exhaustion so pure.

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Kegels: Ms. Devina Conditions her Pussy

Just hearing the sound of that alarm jolts me like I touched a car battery. But in a good way. It’s time for my kegels.

My Mistress is conditioning my pussy. In fact, she just refers to me as “pussy,” a name I would have cut a bitch for in the past, but when she says it, I squirm and twitch in my drawers.

I get on the bed naked and present myself. I have no idea what she’s conditioning me for, but last time she started prepping me for something, it involved a sling and a total stranger with a very big cock.

Suddenly, she’s behind me. I always smell her first and it makes me a little high.

“Kagel time, pussy.” She says and lubes me up. “I’m going to push you a little more tonight.”

Good to know.

Down there, her hands are already passing over my lips, greasing my taint, and ah, now the dildo goes in. Ms.Devina doesn’t hesitate, just all the way up in there.

“Squeeze,” she tells me. I clamp down hard on the dildo.

“Release.” I let go. She draws it out, half way:

“Squeeze.” I try to tighten up again but I can barely reach the thing, like she’s taking it away.

“Harder, pussy, I want you to squeeze your hole shut, push it out.”

I grunt and she smacks my ass.

“You are not concentrating. Release. Let’s try again.”

I let go of the muscles but they don’t want to open up all the way. They like that thing.

“Come one now, let go all the way, I’m waiting.”

How can she tell? I force the walls to open and I can almost hear her smile.

“That’s good, baby. Now bring your legs wider.” I obey knowing it will only make it more difficult to give her what she wants.

I love it though. I love that she knows my anatomy, and wants to train me, mold me. No boyfriend ever got to know my vj like this.

She starts again, this time twisting the dildo into me. “Squeeze it, pussy.” I bear down, trying to keep my big ass open, finding only those inner walls. The dildo slips.

“Yeah, honey. Now relax.” It’s even harder to do as she says this time. She pulls it out and I hear the bullet vibe go on. The low setting presses against my rim. Oh fuck.

Now she’s got the dildo and the vibe going and she’s saying, “Again, tighter pussy, make that thing grab on so hard,” she lets go of the dildo long enough to smack my cheek and rake her nails up the inside of my thigh.

“Tighter, slut!” I grit my teeth. “Now open,” and again, she pulls the cock out. Meanwhile the dildo is shooting lightning bolts up my ass. This time when I release, a little juice trickles out.

I feel her fingertip on my lips. Then one finger, probably her pinkie inside.

“Grip it. Go on. I want to feel that pussy get so tight, if I put a lemon up there, you gonna cum lemonade.”

I try not to laugh, but she always does this, throws in a joke to make me lose my concentration. I clamp down again as hard as I can.

The dildo revs up and enters my hole, and I cry through clenched teeth.

“Yes, baby! Open up!” and her finger and the dildo are alternating in my upstairs and downstairs. This orgasm is coming like one of those high speed trains.

“Cum for me, baby,” she purrs and I don’t wait, I burst on the bed. Her hand catches all my juices and rubs the mess all over my ass. A hoarse wail comes out of me.

Whatever she is prepping me for, I’m pretty sure I’m ready.

 

 

Devina and pussy appear in the upcoming Cuckold Collection: She’s Yours Tonight

 

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GETTING IT: A FEMDOM ANTHOLOGY COMES OUT SEPTEMBER 15

I’m thrilled to be in league with these tremendous writers and SinCyr Publishing house, a press dedicated to Female Dominance as a healing agent.  You can preorder your copy of the book here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0753KWZTV

A brief summation of my contribution, Cutting It: 

Moore’s joyless graduation into adulthood is another disappointment until he meets Rosie: a shape shifter, older, and skilled in the art of pain and control.  This deeply confused young man starts to come into focus as he realized he can still get the release he needs without self-harming.

You know you want Moore.  Buy it now, that’s an order, not a request.

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Schooling Rapey Vanilla Dude on the Finer Points of Femdom

A little background: met this guy yesterday morning through my now-and-forever defunct OKCupid account.  We had a brief back and forth before we made plans for coffee in which he asked me if I was open to playing that night.  I definitively said no, that I don’t play on the first date.  After the date, he said he had to go do something, help his roommate but asked if I wanted to keep hanging out.  I said, sure since at the time, he seemed cool.  He took off to do his thing with the promise that it would only take 15 minutes, but then texted again and said, was I open to casual play?

Again I said no, but that if he was interested in getting to know me, I was willing to spend more time with him.  He then said, sorry, this is going to take longer than I realized, was I open for dinner the next night?  I obviously extended too much credit because this is what transpired afterward. Aside from minor edits in the text conversation to improve the flow, I didn’t edit this text conversation at all.  Clearly, he didn’t deserve correction.

Betina Cipher: Can you talk?

 vanilladude: In a little while. Maybe 30 min? What’s up.

 Betina Cipher: I just thought it would be easier to communicate via voice.

 vanilladude: Sure. Text is good too…text with me 🙂

 Betina Cipher: It’s really difficult to articulate texting, just thought I could spell some things out. Just wanted to talk about kink, fetish, etc.

 vanilladude: Please do. I am very comfortable texting until, if you don’t mind.

Which specific kinks and fetishes? You have some?

 Betina Cipher: Do you have any experience with kink? First hand?

 vanilladude: ds and fetishes? My housemate’s company is around a bit longer, so I can text for a while. A small bit with S&M, and women having masters. I have spoken to subs about it, but haven’t engaged in it myself. What are your kinks? I want some first-hand experiences though.

 Betina Cipher: Okay. So your experience with it is mostly on the margins.

 vanilladude: Yes…that okay?

 Betina Cipher: I could kind of tell. When someone has firsthand experience with it, they communicate in a certain way.

 vanilladude: How so? What are your kinks and fetishes? Have you ever had your photos taken?

 Betina Cipher: I’m a Domme. But I should qualify that and distinguish it from Dominatrix. I’m not much of a sadist, but I do like to be in control. I like to initiate, give directions, experiment with sensation.

 vanilladude: What about straight sex? Do you do that, or is it only a dom sex life for you? Have you been with dark men? Do you have fetishes?

 Betina Cipher: Oh yes.

 vanilladude: I would like to photograph youOh yes to what?

 Betina Cipher: Ok, on that first point. Vanilla sex is pretty disappointing to me. I think it becomes rote, it’s over too fast, and it’s all about coming. Yes, I’ve been with dark men, yes I have fetishes.

 vanilladude: Tell me your fetishes please

 Betina Cipher: If all this is not you cup of tea, I’m totally fine setting the conversation down. I don’t take it personally. Are we ok so far?

 vanilladude: I like this. I want more. Carry on.

 Betina Cipher: I like the idea of being photographed.

 vanilladude: What are your fetishes? I do excellent close-up work with photos.

 Betina Cipher: OK. I’m into toys, bondage, assplay (giving), temperature play,

 vanilladude: Giving ass play such as?

 Betina Cipher: I’m into pegging.

 vanilladude: You like licking ass? Pegging isn’t for me. Just being up front.

 Betina Cipher: ok.

 vanilladude: Do you like licking ass too?

 Betina Cipher: I’m into all things ass. It’s incredibly erotic to me.

 vanilladude: You like having your ass licked?

 Betina Cipher: hell yeah, don’t you?

 vanilladude: I can relate to that. Have you done oral with protection? Until everyone is tested? I like to hold off on unprotected oral and kissing until all testing is done. Would that be a deal-breaker for you? Yes, I like it too

 Betina Cipher: Can I ask what your specific fear is around transmission? Like I’ve never had anyone ask me about cold sores or irregular paps before.

 vanilladude: Causes abnormal paps contributes to oral cancers and/or warts. I play extra safe d/t transmission possibilities of sylhillis (highly contagious in 2 stages), via kissing, and hpv…the strain which cold sores come from HSV-1, which can actually be transferred to genitals. Typical genital herpes is HSV-2, but 1 can occur in both locations.

Betina Cipher: So wait, you’re saying you don’t tongue kiss someone until both of you get tested?

 vanilladude: Did you like the pic? I prefer to wait with the kissing, but if it’s a deal breaker, I understand. I do have something I like about sex without kissing anyway, but I can’t explain it

 Betina Cipher: It’s hard for the writer in me not to read into that.

 vanilladude: Sorry. I am unable to articulate why is what I mean. Did you like the photo I sent? I would like to feel your body with my hands. I wanted our legs touching under the table. It had been in my mind when we were outside.

 Betina Cipher: I am sure that you are the kind of man that easily elicits compliments from pictures like that. But I’m a Domme, I don’t automatically feed men’s egos. I think the fear of swapping spit is really a fear of connecting, it’s a little paranoid. I’m going to pass. I wish you luck finding what you are looking for. Have a good night.

 vanilladude: Would you give me a chance to understand? I wanted to know what you liked so I could offer more photos and other items/actions. As I mentioned, if something is a deal breaker, I will adjust. I would gladly swap spit with you. I was ready to before you left but I wasn’t sure how you felt about it, I was stuck in your creamy legs and thighs for parts of the convo and couldn’t help myself. Not looking for compliments. I want some serious interaction with you.

 Betina Cipher: Ok. let me put it this way in a nutshell: when I am in charge, a session lasts for hours. I study you, test your responsiveness. I push you to your edge and then I decide when to release you.

 vanilladude: And you can do that without pegging?

 Betina Cipher: yes. but it’s the easiest way to make a man have a progasm.

 vanilladude: And though kissing is fine, no oral until testing is fine as well? Just clarifying because I want tie experience you

vanilladude: And I want my hands in your body to feel your smooth skin. I want to see and taste your breasts.

 Betina Cipher: You get to work for all that.

 vanilladude: How is that a FWB situation? You being dom is one thing, but can we start casual for one meeting?

 Betina Cipher: If you are asking me if we can have vanilla sex first the answer is no. In the same way that you have limits about STDs, I have no interest in making out, no oral, missionary and it’s over in 3 minutes. Like I said, vanilla sex is not satisfying to me. Attraction is one of many cogs that need to mesh. I think you are very attractive, but it seems like we aren’t lining up.

 vanilladude: I am not talking 3 minutes of vanilla sex. I am talking patience and time in first just touching each other naked and seeing how each of us play. other reacts. Spending time on nipple play, ass play, fetish time…sex would be slow and deliberate, mixed with the additional various. I think we would line up in person. I do. I am not just saying this, I assure you.

 Betina Cipher: Tell me why you think so?

vanilladude: Why do I think so? I felt something when I hugged you, and when we spoke and when we looked at each other that seemed carnal to me. As an example of what I meant, I like having my cock buried all the way in a woman and just holding it there, while slowly touching, pinching, licking other parts of her.

Betina Cipher: Are you willing to spend some more time for me to feel comfortable around you?

vanilladude: I don’t understand your angle. I am extremely attracted to you. But are you looking to “date?” What you want seems different for a well-matched arrangement. I am fine being patient. Are you willing to show me how you could tease me? (Not asking for sex). Are you free at all during the day tomorrow?

 Betina Cipher: See here’s the problem with text.

 vanilladude: I apologize, I have limited options. Texting with you turns me on. I like reading the words and descriptions with respect to sex and fet terms. I don’t understand what you are open to before sex? Would you let me lick your ass?

 Betina Cipher: Let me put it another way: I’ve had some toxic men in my life, men who have taken my power away from me psychologically and sexually. My comfort zone is when I am in control. I don’t understand that last question. I don’t do casual sex, I don’t do one-offs.

vanilladude: Can you be in control while letting me lick your ass? Neither do I. I don’t do either.

 Betina Cipher: I would INSTRUCT you to lick my ass.

 vanilladude: Then that’s what I want. Are you free during the day tomorrow? At all?

 Betina Cipher: What I don’t think men realize is the immense risk women take on when they consent to sex with someone they just met. No, not free tomorrow.

You outweigh me by what, 50 lbs at least? And I just met you. Today.

 vanilladude: I understand. I worked with various situations involving victims when I worked in medicine.

 Betina Cipher: I’m not a rape victim in the conventional sense. But yes, I’ve got triggers and trust issues. I am not going to have all the info I need in one meeting.

 vanilladude: I am also required to be an upstanding citizen with a squeaky clean background to maintain clearance for any government work. I have annual background checks run in me, and fingerprinting. Okay

 Betina Cipher: Well, so do lots of people. But I appreciate that, and I have to have similar. Tues afternoon or eve is possible.

 vanilladude: Let’s do Tuesday eve? You want photos done? May I send you a photo of my cock, please?

 Betina Cipher: Let me explain again: I’m not bringing you into a private space until I know you better. No. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to look at it. You are not used to being denied. I can tell. Handsome men are the worst.

 vanilladude: I am sorry for the experiences you have had, but I need to be able to progress with my own timeline. I also don’t want to risk any “triggers” being set off.

I have law enforcement in my family, docs and lawyers. I am a safe guy, and I don’t have to put in unreasonable effort with others.

It’s not about being handsome. I am willing to work. But I also recognize the difference between a solid effort vs. working around someone’s personal stuff.

My attraction to you is unusually strong. I left with an erection, and precum because of how turned on I was, especially when you would shift and I would catch a glimpse of your sexy thighs. I know what I want, and that I am safe, but I have also been waiting a while to play and I need to move on. If you want to join me, let me know because you make me hard as a rock. Okay. Let me know if you decide you want photos or to play. If not, no offense.

Betina Cipher: Wow, and this seems like a reasonable expectation to you? You meet a woman once and because you got boner it’s now or never? Your idea of a “solid effort” is laughable, and the “please let me show you my dick”, what are you, 20?

 vanilladude: That’s not what I wrote.

 Betina Cipher: Sure whatever.

This morning:

 Betina Cipher: I suggest you educate yourself regarding sexual assault and how it relates to dating. Here are some stats for you:

  • A woman is sexually assaulted ever 98 seconds in the US
  • Overwhelmingly, the perpetrator is someone the woman knows or just met
  • There is no profile for perps with regard to socioeconomics, race, religion or age so the “I have law enforcement in my family, doc, lawyers” is an absurd defense of your character

http://www.newsweek.com/police-sexual-assault-rape-justice-258130

https://www.rainn.org/statistics/perpetrators-sexual-violence

The fact that you asked me more than once if I was open to playing, ignoring my direct answers, is a red flag. The paranoia around germs and the disregard for my comfort level, red flag. Your dismissal of me based on “not wanting to set off any triggers” reveals you to be ignorant, selfish and unworthy. Something to consider on your next date.

(block user) (block this caller?) (do not disturb)

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The Struggle is Real: All this Jobseeking is Butting into My Prowling Time

Dear Ms. (Cipher),

We found your resume on Indeed dot com and we think you’d be a great fit for the _______ position.  As a content writer, you’d be required to write, edit, strategize, know HTML, video editing, be comfortable managing several projects at a time with different clients, all of whom have unreasonable demands, work 40+ hours a week starting at $15-18.  This a fantastic opportunity for someone who is looking to build their career, work in a fast-paced environment, loves business casual, and drinks like a fish at corporate parties.

Dear Ms. Cipher,

Welcome to Bluehost!  We know you just spent all your hard earned blogger cash on upgrading to self-hosted thinking that you’d be able to sell your smut more effectively, and we just want you to know that for an additional $59 a month, you can upgrade to Premium and get that elusive amazon plugin that will make all your financial dreams come true.

Sincerely,

The Sharks at Bluehost

Dear Ms. (Cipher),

After carefully examining the accident you were in on April 28, we’ve made the determination that even though our driver rear ended you, you were at fault.  We will therefore not be covering the cost to have your bumper fixed. We apologize for any inconvenience and you owe Hertz rentals $29/day for the next three days.

Sincerely, AAA

Attention Ms. (Cipher)

Your registration renewal is due on July 17, 2017 for $124.  The DMV doesn’t accept cash and a $5 dollar transaction fee is charged for credit and debit.

Thank you for your business,

The DMV.

Hey you.  It’s your project. Remember me?  That boiler about the woman who turns her dead mama’s dilapidated mansion into a Cub Bordello?  So there is a living room of characters just milling around waiting for you to tell them how you want them to fuck each other.  Just sayin’.  You know where to find us.  On your hard drive.

Love,

Your Novel

P.S. You are backing me up, right?

Dear Ms. Cipher,

Thank you for applying to the____ position.  We regret to inform you that we’ve selected a candidate, and–

Good Evening, Ms. Cipher.

I really enjoyed reading your profile.  Your imagination is scorching hot, reading your stories makes me feel so dirty.  I especially loved Boyslut for the Birthday Girl, such a lucky boy to get used by not one but two smart, sexy Mistresses.

I hope this message finds you well, and if there is ever anything I can do to please you, I’d be honored.

Sincerely,

submissive cub

 

Sigh.

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How a Dom Deals with Emotional Vulnerability (Even in Her Dreams)

hh_sba_armadillo

I had a dream about a guy I conversed with very briefly on OKC and never met in real life. He was a professional, a father, handsome, submissive. He went cold a few weeks ago and while I wondered (as I always do) if he met someone or if he just got scared, I didn’t think about him much until this morning.

In the dream, we were new, but somehow traveling together in an indistinct American city. It was very chaotic, with lots of construction going on. We passed by super-modern luxury homes being built. It felt like we were excited about each other, like we were both seeing the potential.

And then the scenery shifted: we were in a blank room with a bed, a standard hotel room with a large window next to him. We were talking and he asked about plans, about when he could come to my city and stay a few days, meet my people. “Is it too soon to be asking?” he wanted to know. “We can go as slowly as you need to.” The indication was clear: he was showing me he was in.

And I had a moment of pure panic. Here was the thing I had been searching for: a beautiful, smart, awake, strong-but-submissive man. He was putting himself on the table for me and I was suddenly nauseated.

“I need you to strip,” I answered, and without question, he disrobed and lay face down next to me. “I need to be inside you.” I had to fuck him because I was so scared of getting fucked. I wanted this devotion and obedience too badly. I had already overextended in my desire.

To regain control, I had to fill him up. He took me inside him and whispered that he was mine, I owned him.

I woke up feeling like I was the one who got fucked. By my own imagination.

Guard-your-Heart