Dirty Little Serials: Ian & Dreena

Ian’s hands sifted through Dreena’s hair, turning her towards him and examining the bump on her head. She’d whacked the door pretty hard. Sparks shot down the nerves in his arms. Dark blue eyes blinked up at him as his thumb smoothed over the tender rise in her scalp.

No blood or bruising.

His fingers shifted behind her ear, tilting her head up as she glared at him. This mer disliked her attraction to him as much as she felt it. And he felt it, too.

Ian pressed his mouth against hers to be rewarded by a bubbling noise in the back of her throat before Dreena grabbed the front of his shirt and opened to him. She didn’t seem at all uncertain of him like this. When they spoke, they had issues.

She unbuttoned his collar and slid into his lap. The familiar warmth of her didn’t mask how different she tasted, like salt-water taffy, creamy and sweet.

“I don’t plan on following in my brother’s footsteps. I’m not going to mate you.” He said against her lips before he nuzzled her. Ian grabbed her hips; he’d never fucked a mer before. “If we fuck, that’s all it’ll be.”

Dreena ground herself against him. “Am not virgin.”

To accentuate her point, she rolled over him and nipped the corner of his lip. Oh, he’d have fun with her.

Her elegant fingers tugged the front of his shirt free of his slacks and belt, burning him with her touch. She bled electricity into him.

His hands responded in kind, finding their way beneath her dress to rub the fabric tucked between her thighs. Her panties barely held the heat of her at bay. Ian’s cock jolted as Dreena grabbed him in return. He needed to fuck her, but this wasn’t the place.

The car slowed as they approached his brother’s house, and he tucked his shirt back in as she pouted. Gods, he wanted her mouth around him, wanted her mouth against him, wanted to cause her mouth to fall open as she orgasmed; he wanted her.

“Not here,” he said as he opened the door for her and lifted her off his lap. The single item they’d gone for hung from his finger as he escorted Dreena back inside, up the stairs, and past the females waiting for her. Instead, he left the small, paper bag on the doorknob, knocked, and ushered Dreena inside the small study at the end of the hall.

Trapping her against the door, his body met hers, and she pulled at his clothes, undressing him with such precision.

“You certainly have done this before.”

Her nails retorted as they sank into his back. Ian kissed her to keep his mouth from messing this up. And his slacks fell around his ankles as he reached to lift her against him.

Thighs burnt around his waist, trapping his cock against that small slice of cotton.

He wanted to tear them off.

Instead, he laid her on a settee and yanked them down her legs. The scent of her arousal assailed him. Cock nestled against her, his hips pumped, teasing gasps free with smell of her.

She was intoxicating.

Coating himself in her juices, Ian thrust himself to the hilt and swallowed her moan. Teeth and lips found her throat to release her next moan into the room—quick but soft and more than enough to tighten the skin down his spine.

Then Dreena’s legs lifted higher on his back, and he scooped her knees with his arms, pulling her taut around him. He buried himself into her, keeping his mouth busy to refrain from telling her all of the dirty things he wanted: that her pussy was magnificent, to promise her the same pain her nails drove into him, that he’d fucking ruin her. And he wanted to; everything inside him craved it.

Dreena’s fingers squeezed the back of Ian’s neck, nails slicing into an ear lobe.

Hips jackhammered and pulled a soft cry from her.

He couldn’t break her yet.

No, he wanted her again first. For the night.

He’d fulfill every dirty fantasy she was too afraid to admit she had.

The beast inside him roared as Ian sank his teeth into her throat, barely keeping himself from drawing blood.

But oh, the way she jerked under him, around him.

Ian rode her to orgasm, fighting through the way she squeezed.

A small increment of control vanished, and he took what he needed, hips smacking the flood of moisture between her thighs.

Drowning in the sweet and salty scent of her, he pulled sweet tears from Dreena as her pleasure wavered on pain.

She’d learn quick not to fight it.

With an uneven beat, he filled her, hips driving to push his seed as deeply inside of her as his cock would allow and nudging the end of her until she mewled for him.

The shake of her limbs electrified him, confirming how later that night, he’d show her what it meant to be a little slut.

Dirty Little Holidays: Christmas with Hank & Robin


Thick satin ribbon laced Robin’s waist, dipping between her thighs, just braced along her sex and ass to rub her as she moved. Hank tied her arms together, looping the ribbon around the bedpost to secure her.

Hank’s fingers trailed over her breasts, spreading goose bumps in the wake of his touch.

Cold glass chilled her as it met the inside of her thigh, roaming up her ass. Hank shifted the ribbon aside, coating her anus with lube before the glass pressed in on her. Sizzling pleasure spread through her as he worked the anal plug past the tight rim of her ass and seated it inside her with the most excruciating patience. Robin’s thighs wobbled to keep her upright.

With the ribbon replaced, Hank nudged her knees apart and pulled her hips back, tightening the restricted knot around her waist and pressing the plug more firmly inside of her. A faint moan vibrated against her closed mouth.

Hands curved her back harder as Hank moved in behind her, rubbing the hard length of himself over the ribbon that covered her sex.

Glass shifted inside of her again, this time in a steady beat to the small movements of Hank’s hips. Robin’s core tightened with the need to be filled, too.

The ribbon smoothed against her, wider as it unfolded, and his cock pressed it into her. Satin quickly coated wet probed her, folding around Hank, constricting around her body, and twisting the plug. Squeezing her hips, he rocked her back against him, gaining as much entrance as he could. His sharp movements tore away the first wave of her orgasm, accompanied by a sharp noise.

Long fingers and steady palms smoothed over her rear before pulling the wet ribbon to the side and plunging his bare cock to the depths of her, setting off her second wave of orgasm.

Hands yanking at the ribbon around the headboard, Robin arched back to accept him, breasts scraping against the sheets below her as she reeled in the rough pleasure. Muscles loose yet taut, squeezing down her core as she gave in. Body ricocheting, the amalgamation of attentions inflamed her in ecstasy.

Thumb pressed down on the stopper in her ass, Hank rubbed her in time with his hips, and Robin succumbed, falling into her full orgasm as he rode her relentlessly through it until tears wet the corners of her eyes.

And he came inside her, rubbing her down, soothing her, and worshipping her body.

Still seated in her core, he bent to drop soft kisses along the back of her neck. “Merry Christmas, love.”

Robin shuddered, knowing this was only her present. Hank still had his to unwrap.

Wonderful erotic definition and such a fresh way to present it.

The Erotic Writer


There were lots of photos I could have used for this, many involving bondage, but this is the one that appealed to me. It feels a little playful, Rejoice in Loveeager and suggests the excitement and willingness implied by obedience rather than bondage. Have fun and have a Merry Christmas Eve. As always, Will Crimson.

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Dirty Little Holidays–Christmas with Mandi and Nico


Mandi struggled against the red ribbon that bound her wrists to her headboard.  Garland bit into her thighs just above her knees, which both spread her legs and lifted her hips. Nico shifted the wide bow across her breasts, scraping the rough fabric over her nipples.  Erotic burning made her nipples harden and her back arch as far as it could.  The pain from the abrasion sent a sensitive line of pleasure straight to her core.

Reaching the brink of too painful, Nico untied the bow and tightened the ribbon around her breasts, blowing lightly across her flesh.  Mandi lifted her head, catching the look in Nico’s eyes.  She was in trouble, and she could barely wait.

Once Nico had repurposed the ribbon to harness her breasts. It held tightly enough to darken her skin to a vibrant pink and made the stick out in front of her like torpedoes.  His eyes had darkened to a pulsating cobalt blue as a flick of silver slapped across her purpling nipples.  The sting jolted her off the bed, her hips pushing higher and a moan caroling out of her mouth.

Mandi peered up in time to see a tinsel whip come back down across her swollen and sensitive skin, but the slap was soft as it dusted her skin, finding its way through the valley between her breasts, down her ribs, around her navel, and slapped with increasing pressure at the apex of her thighs until her limbs quivered in their restraints.

A soft, throaty chuckle fell across her skin as the tinsel whip disappeared. Nico was lucky on two accounts: first, tying her up was his Christmas present, which meant she couldn’t reciprocate; and second, he knew exactly how to unravel her.  Mandi quivered under his touch, completely at his mercy.

A crinkling hit her ears, but she couldn’t see the source. As she waited for the reveal, Nico bent over her, his tongue dipping between her folds, and his eyes lit up as if he’d found a treat.  Heat invaded Mandi, but she couldn’t be sure if it were Nico’s tongue or her arousal.

An oversized candy cane appeared below her chin, lifting toward her lips until her mouth fit around the inch-and-a-half-wide stick of sugar. Her tongue wrapped around the sticky sweetness, sucking on the candy cane as if it were Nico.  If she hadn’t been tied up, she’d taken hold of him and flicked her tongue along the tender knot under the head of his cock.

Nico pulled the candy cane from her mouth and squeezed the underside of her left hip.  His mouth left her skin moist and wanting but not for long.  The phallic candy pushed over her clit, circling and sticking.

But she wanted his mouth; it’s the only reason she’d actually agreed to this—the pleasure promised by that sweet tongue and bow-shaped lips.

He shoved the candy cane inside of her. Her sex resisted, but the wetness of her arousal cooled the sting as he pulsed it inside of her. Four long, thick inches of candy cane tugged and rubbed until Nico was able to thrust the red and white cane into her smoothly.

“I’ve got twelve inches here, love. And by the time we’re done,” he gave her lips a fresh swipe of his tongue, “you’ll take at lease eight of them for me.”

The tacky candy cane tapped against the very depths of her at five inches.  His tongue found her clit, making her hips roll to accommodate the candy and Nico.

Moans vibrated up from her chest—aching within the confines of the ribbon—and her thighs burned as the garland cut into her thighs.  The unrelenting tapping at her womb stole another jolt from her limbs.  His thrusts grew larger, and her gaze flew up to watch the red of the candy smear across the white and Nico’s tongue slide around the invasion of her sex.  She’d stretched to accept six inches.

The tip of his tongue found her clit, lapping up the sticky residue.  Sucking her into his mouth, her core shuttered, grabbed at the candy cane, and closed around it.  Nico’s name fell from her mouth, and he shoved another inch into her.

Her body leapt toward a crescendo, teetering at the top with the rhythm he created varying staccato and legato as though he could play every nerve in her body. Her moans formed the melody, a long mix of highs and lows building its own crescendo.

He pushed again, deeper, reaching the full eight inches of thrusting Christmas candy.  Nico grunted with satisfaction, and her body could no longer hold his tempo.  With a final note, her body convulsed, digging her ties deeper, cutting pain into the pleasure so that the soft gasping of her breath and the slick sound of the thrusting candy cane overloaded her bared senses.

Finally, Nico pulled the candy from her core and savored the taste of her minty lips until her body stopped shaking.  With a stealthy Grinch of a smile, he untied her breasts and legs before he hovered over her.

“And how many presents do I get this year?”

Dirty Little Restrictions–Cami

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Goosebumps climbed Cami’s back, wrapped down her hips, between her thighs, up her ribs, and around her breasts, making her nipples hard.  She quivered, jangling her reinforced restraints as the male behind her traced a dollop of soft leather over the bumps of her spine.

He had knelt her on the cold marble floor and tied her against the wall, arms stretched overhead, knees and ankles bound, all done with silk rope and reinforced with chains.

Cami closed her eyes.  With no blindfold, she could only rely on a slight turn of her head, but her peripheral vision merely caught a glimpse of the man’s tan skin and dark hair before she grew dizzy.

They didn’t know one another. That was the point. That’s why she’d searched for this underground bondage parlor for months.  No one else could know about her appetites.

The leather dollop dipped below her cheeks, tapping at the apex of her thighs and making her back arch as much as she could manage.  Her breasts scraped against the chilled glass at her front—the one hidden with a curtain that at any moment could open to reveal her.  Air sucked deeply into her lungs as the soft leather bit into her inner thighs, her ass cheeks, against the sealed folds of her sex.  A small yip reverberated against her teeth as another whipping broke her open.

Her knees burnt as she shifted, wishing for more contact, for his heat to slide against her and contrast the burning cold.

His voice was the next best thing—strong, vibrant, and with a bit of a South American lisp. “Be careful what you present me with, slave.  You are not familiar with what your gestures mean.

Suddenly, his breath draped itself over her neck and shoulders, bringing his musky yet tropical scent to her pallet. “So, you had better learn to ask.”

“Touch me, please.”  His hovering body cocooned her in a rivaling swirl of temperatures that swarmed across her flesh in search of balance.

The leather dollop tapped its way up her belly, and she dared a glimpse of him.  His dark hair shielded his caramel eyes and swooped along the bridge of his nose. But she barely captured that image before the leather pinched between her right nipple at that glass, rolling it and scraping it against the glass.  Her entire body arched at the pain of it, and wetness inside of her seeped and rolled down her thighs.

“Have you earned that privilege? You have not once come for me.”

Leather rolled down her body, zig-zagging against her ribs and the concave of her stomach, before invading her thighs and lips.  Coarse pleasure jolted her, but still she felt no other flesh against hers.

She looked down her body, through the small gap her breasts presented her with, to watch the man’s hand thrust a riding crop between her legs, digging into the pearl of her clit, and demanding she leap toward her first orgasm.  The pleasure crested as she watched, like she was being pulled through boiling water just fast enough to not get burned.

Cami wanted the burn.  She wanted the orgasm forced from her.  She wanted to hand over that control.  And she had no choice once her core exploded, spasming, jerking her body against the restraints and against the glass.

And his touch didn’t relent.  In fact, his thick fingers found the small slice of her lips and shoved past any last guard she had, invading her pleasure.

Her master had given her exactly what she’d asked for, on his own terms.