I hate when they call me ‘babe.’
"Ryan. Hey. What's up?"
"I'm uh... I'm sorry if I was rude last night."
Well, you certainly were a strung out mess when you called me at whatever ungodly hour it was.
"You weren't exactly being rude, you—"
"I was so fucking wasted."
Yep, don’t love it when they cut me off mid-sentence either.
"Yep. You were."
"So, what are you up to?"
Well, it's a Thursday morning, so...
And you're probably still drunk.
"Do you want to hang out later?"
Nope. Not really.
"I could come stay at your place tonight."
Boy, you have some nerve.
"I don't know about that…"
"I've been thinking a lot about you lately... It's been way too long."
And there's good reason for that.
"Yeah, it has been a while."
"Come on, baby. I've missed you."
Ugh, 'baby' is even worse than ‘babe.’
"Yeah, you might have mentioned that last night."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you like that. I was so wrecked... I don't even remember what I said."
You know what…
"Come on. What do you say?"
Maybe I can get one last hurrah from this one before I finally kick him to the curb for good…
"I don't know, Ryan..."
"Let me make it up to you."
Ha, I've definitely heard that one before.
"I'm going to be working late. Probably won't be home until 8 or so."
"That's cool. I'll pick up a nice expensive bottle of wine for us on my way over."
I don't think there is enough wine in the world to wash the sour taste of you from my mouth but…
"Yeah, you know what? Sure. Just let yourself in if I'm not there yet."
"No worries, babe. I know the drill. See you at 8.”
Vapors rose from her body as the sudsy water swirled down into the dark eye of the drain. She wrapped herself snugly in a large, plush, hotel-white towel, trapping the heat inside. She held a bottle of generic red wine, clenched by the neck in one hand, while she drained a fogged glass of the bloody liquid with the other.
Her transformation was already underway.
She deliberately left the lights off, opting for a line of red votive candles lit along the edge of the mirror instead. Her long, damp hair was pulled to one side, exposing the striking silhouette of her clavicle. She sat at her vanity where, like a surgeon's tray of sharpened tools, her weapons were laid out before her.
Let the ritual begin.
As she walked through the steps to prepare herself for the night, every detail was met with painstaking care. She started with a solid foundation, then cut dark shadows into the high angles of her cheekbones, highlighting her ferocity. She pulled dark, smoky shrouds over her eyelids, and cleaved sharp swoops of liquid ink into the lash line, dragging her tigress eyes open wide. She crushed rusted iron into the apples of her cheeks and locked in all of her power with a loose, translucent powder. The heat of the blow-dryer took her long damp strands and turned them into luscious locks of vibrant ochre and blood. And finally, the cherry on top was a bold cherry red on the pout of her lips.
Every step of the ritual, another layer of her war paint: preparing for battle, painting on confidence, highlighting her inherent strength.
Having selected a curve-licking lacy bodysuit, she slid her garments into place with the utmost care, plumping her breasts up in the cups for cleavage that could shelve an entire collection of dropped jaws. She threaded her legs into thigh-high fishnet stockings, catching a glimpse of the little tattoo on her hip as she did so. Though she wasn't quite ready to leave yet, she slipped her feet into her shiny black dagger heels.
With her metamorphosis complete, she pulled a sleek purple phallus from the side drawer. Pressing a tiny golden button at the butt, she moved the soft silicone wand to cast spells over her even softer flesh and swooned into the vibrations, releasing a soft purr of anticipation.
She melted back into her chair and admired every polished edge of the dark goddess who now sat before her in the flickering candle glow. The pronounced lines of her legs resulting from the stiletto-forced point of her toes. The artistic perfection of the warrior princess mask painted on her face. The fierce glow of her diabolical eyes. The flash of her claws, filed to a point and painted with the same sanguine scarlet of her lips, gripped gently around the throat of her little toy.
With her other hand, she took a preemptive victory sip of her wine and examined the rim of the glass to ensure everything was exactly where she wanted it to be, which it was. She was warming up for the fight, practicing battle cries in her head, preparing herself for the forthcoming carnage.
Then, she was alerted by a pinging sound from down the hall. The cookies were ready.
Not in any particular haste, she breathed deeply, inviting the warm sugar sweetness floating in to mix with the spices steeping at her core. Her arousal rose as she decreased the speed of the vibrations until the device fell silent. She smiled as she reached the base of her exhalation and opened her eyes and met the stern glaring gaze in front of her once again. It wasn't time to release yet; she was just getting started.
She spritzed a cloud of perfume into her now-warmed décolleté and floated to her feet. Taking in the full effect of her glory in the mirror once more, she made her way down to the kitchen to save her freshly baked goods from the unforgiving scorch of the oven.
Though the door seemed to open in slow motion, her poor prey couldn't have had time to prepare for what he was about to endure.
"Don't you say a fucking word until we're done," she said as her coat dropped to the floor. She peeled the underlying silk wrap from her body to reveal the lace armor hiding beneath it. And with that, skilled huntress that she was, she pounced with brutal force, grabbing his face between her mighty paws, and devoured his mouth like she hadn't fed in at least half an eternity.
She flicked off the lights and pushed him against the wall. A frame fell face down on the floor and shattered next to them. She didn't allow him to take notice. She bit at his bottom lip, tugging his face, commanding him to follow her lead as she walked backwards down the hallway, deeper into the darkness, her darkness. And he, submitting to her bestial strength, simply weaved his fingers into the rust of her hair and bowed to her dominion. Like a lowly, unassuming insect, captivated by her hellfire glow.
Halfway down the hall, she slammed him back first into the wall again, harder than before — no frames there that time. She clawed at his chest under his shirt as she ate his kiss once more and bit down his neck; the groans he breathed out into the obscurity flinched sharply as her fangs grew less and less forgiving.
His buckle caught the flash of lamplight seeping in from somewhere outside as she tugged at the leather strap of his belt. She ran her fingers up and back down the front of his chest, back down to his waist, and unclasped his belt, plucking it from the loops with a single sliding pull. Feverishly, she tore his pants open and moved them, along with his boxers, down just enough to reveal his smug erection. With both palms on his board-firm chest, she smirked at him, kissed him once more, a little softer than before, and squatted down before him.
He held his dark girth in his hand, stroking it as he presented it to her. She swatted his hand away.
"No," she snarled. “Don't touch. That’s mine until I'm done with it."
She picked his belt up from the floor and wrapped it around his wrists, binding his hands behind his back.
“You will touch me when I say so," she said and kissed the corner of his dark lips.
With one hand at the base of his shaft, she held him still and took a moment to admire the majesty of his cock. She'd always been fond of this one.
Despite her hunger, she liked to take her time, to play with her food a bit before she ate. Exploring his dimensions every time like it was the first time. She teased past the tip with her gaping mouth, painting the length with the hot swell of her breath, all without ever actually touching him. She buried her nose into the crook of his groin and licked along the crease. His breath hitched, and she felt the spontaneous shudder that ran through him when she tasted the ripple of his balls.
She breathed heat up one side and down the other to tease the opposite side in the same fashion, earning a similar response. He wriggled against his restraints, but remained obediently open to her intimate re-exploration of him.
In that moment, all he was to her was a cock, a mouth, two hands, weight. A body. Blood.
And she was going to takes those pieces in whatever order, at whatever pace she saw fit.
She took him in her hand again and felt the impatient throb against her grip. It begged to be consumed. She pressed the tip of his cock against pursed lips, mocking him with the potential of wetness and warmth. His hips bucked, tried to push past, but she pulled back and clicked her tongue at him. She slowly ran the side of her finger along the underside of his shaft from base to head. Letting her mouth fall loose, she grazed his desperate cock over her lips, like she was lazily applying a fleshy balm.
Finally, she gave him an inch. Her taunting tongue flickered and swirled around the rim of his cock’s head. When she gripped the side of his leg, pulling him a little deeper into the moist cavern of her mouth, he groaned again.
The shock of her teeth was absorbed by her bright red pillow lips as she ran them slowly, in no particular tempo, down and up his shaft. She squeezed his thigh while the other hand feather-dusted his balls with the pointed tips of her fingernails. She felt them try to evade her touch, burying a little deeper into the shadows between his legs.
Her pace quickened and her cheeks hollowed with the strength of her suction. She looked up at him for a moment. His head was to the heavens, lost in prayer, seeking emancipation.
She, his malevolent goddess, controlled his pleasure, manipulated the direction of his arousal, sensed it all in the palm of her hand, and the roof of her mouth. She actively felt the extent of the power she held and it was intoxicating as ever.
She fucked and sucked him with her cunning mouth, shaping to form-fit his cock. Thick saliva dripped past the corners of her savage mouth onto the floor between her knees spread wide. And when she felt his flesh go taut on her lips, she knew it was time to abandon him.
Rising to her feet once more, she found his lips in the darkness and fumbled blindly behind him to release his bound wrists. His freed hands flew to her face, pulling her mouth to his, licking spit from the edges.
She forced his hands away and she rejected his lips; she turned around and pressed her ass into his dripping erection. "Fuck me," she barked, presenting her thick curves to him. "Right here."
He ran his hand over the round of her ass, gave her a small, sharp slap, followed by a gentle squeeze of the flesh like he was testing the softness of a fresh loaf of bread. She didn't scold him for that. He didn't need to be able to speak to confirm that she approved of the way he was touching her; he knew what she expected and demanded of him. She arched her back into him, while he rested his forehead between her shoulder blades, and pulled the crotch of her bodysuit aside to reveal herself to him. He panted down her spine as he struggled to regain enough motor function to guide himself inside her.
She reached up behind them to stroke his neck as he slid his hungry head past her wet lips. She thrust her hips into his to consume him completely, and when he growled and gnawed the thick flesh of her shoulder, she dug her claws into his. He pulled her tits free of the lacy cups and kneaded her ass deep into him.
He snatched her hands, her forearms, bending and binding them at the small of her back as he plowed into her from behind. Her head fell back, dusting his hands with the tips of her auburn hair, and she snarled into the darkness in front of her. But his illusion of control was short-lived. She leaned forward, pulling them both down to the hard ground on their knees. The spaces between the slats of wood plucked at the crisscrossing threads of her fishnets as she pumped back into him. With her palms pressed into the floor, he clutched her shoulders with both hands.
"Go on," she purred. "You know what I want from you."
His hands inched from her shoulders to clasp around her neck. Pressure with the threat of pain.
"Yes," she sputtered through his grip between thrusts. "Yes, oh my god, yes. Just like that."
He continued to push the boundaries of her depths, stretching and straining her to the core and beyond, knocking bone into bone. She grunted and groaned through the delicious severity of the act.
He released his grip, taking a moment for himself to breathe. But she was insatiable. She turned to face him and pushed him back onto the floor. He nearly smoked the back of his head, just barely missing the baseboard. She finally tore his pants away, since they had been bunched around his ankles this whole time, and stalked up his torso. Doubling over, she kissed new life into him and they moaned in unison as she slid him back into the heart of her darkness.
She rested her hand on his jawline as she swiveled her hips around his girth, slow and sultry, grinding her sit bones into the tops of his thighs, and sucked his bottom lip in between her teeth again. He reached up, lazily squeezing her exposed tits. As she lulled him into the illusion of slowing down, her hand snaked along the length of his neck. She peeled her high heels off one at a time, tossed them aside, and planted her stockinged feet into the floor on his either side. Increasing the reach and force of her thrusts as she guided him in and out of view, she clasped her palm over his throat.
Her gaze burned with excitement as she watched him choke under the pressure. The way his eyes scrunched shut and his mouth grew wide told her he was enjoying himself too. He never saw the flash of her wicked smile before she thrust her tongue into his suffocated moan.
When she felt him pushing more urgently, more ravenously up into her, she slowed to a halt.
And she slapped him, softly though sternly, in the face. "You don't come until I tell you to now, dear," she said. "You only exist right now to please me. Understood?"
He kept his vow of silence and simply nodded.
"But you know I have been known to be generous when I am pleased with your performance," she added, patronizing him with a light tickle under his chin. She then wrapped her arms around him and rolled him on top of her, devouring three of four more kisses from his mouth along the way.
"Now," she said, propping one foot up on his shoulder. "Fuck me like you mean it."
His grin was almost as devilish as hers had been as he found his position in the whirlpool of wetness between her thighs again. Tugging the sheer lace out of the way in one hand, she scrubbed vehemently at her hardened clit as he reached even further than before with every plunge of his deferent cock. A bead of sweat dropped from his forehead into the middle of her chest. She felt her pleasure swell under her own familiar touch, and her grip turned vice-like around him. She knew she he wouldn't be able to to make it if she kept this up.
"You mouth," she gasped, threatening to draw blood as she raked her talons down his back. "I want your mouth. Now."
He withdrew his engorged dagger and dove head first into the heat radiating from her center.
Gentle at first, his tongue darted and weaved around her contours, becoming reacquainted with every fold and curve.
"Such a clever tongue you have," she said. Eyes closed, hands running through his coarse dark hair. She felt his humble smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pushed his tongue inside her.
Sprawled spread eagle in the middle of that dark hallway, he homed in on her clit, running in circles around the intensity of her pleasure. She tugged at his hair and grinded aggressively up into his mouth, feeling the rigidity of his stubbled chin rub into the spaces in her pelvis.
Without warning, without losing his rhythm, he slid two fingers inside her. Her eyes bulged wide in the darkness before squinting shut again, as if the pleasure itself was as blinding as the light of thousand suns. As he lapped at her clit, fingers thrusting and curling up into her, she felt the build up and count down to her release.
All at once, thick fire washed over her face. She writhed under his unwavering touch. She heard the scraped of her nails as she clutched desperately at the nothingness on the floor next to her. Her spine arched and contorted as her hips bucked into her lover's mouth, which never let up through the entirety of her epic release.
He slowly pulled his fingers from the floor and wiped her shine from his face with the back of his hand. He waited in silence, chest heaving, leering down at her through the near black on the floor. Her eyes were still closed, knees knocking back and forth, moving the aftershock of her climax down to her toes. "Thank you, my dear," she said.
She was dizzy, but she did want him to enjoy his own release. He had earned it. And truth be told, she wanted to taste the strain he had so devotedly endured for her.
When she finally sat up, she said, "Why don't you go get yourself comfortable." He helped her to her feet, she kissed him sweetly on the cheek. "I'll be right back."
While he made his way to the bedroom, she went to the kitchen to grab the wine she knew would be there. With two glass in one hand and a fresh bottle in the other, she went to find her lover. But as she walked back down the hall, she noticed her phone on the floor. All lit up and buzzing. She tucked the bottle into the crook of her arm, bent to pick up the demanding little device, and smirked at the screen full of missed calls.
Walking into the warm, dimly lit bedroom, she found her lover lying back comfortably on the mattress, lazily stroking himself back to life. She poured the garnet liquid into the glasses and handed him one, and they clinked glasses before taking a triumphant sip.
"Do you think you could you do me a favor? You may speak.”
"Of course, love," he said with a knowing smile. His voice was crushed velvet, dark and smooth as his complexion. "What is it?"
"I need you to take a picture for me," she said, pulling up the Snapchat app on her phone. "Of us."
There was that devilish smirk again. "You know I'm always happy to help."
She handed him her device as she assumed a position, taking his reinvigorated cock back into her mouth, and looked up at him. Hearing the click of the camera, she popped back up beside him, leaning her head on his chest. He wrapped one arm around her and stroked her shoulder as she judged his handiwork.
He had done a great job. Her eyes were all fire and brimstone, staring straight into the soul of the camera lens. Cheeks contoured by suction and highlighted with dim shadows. Tits still popping, propped up by the lace bodice and red-raw from the manhandling her lover had administered so obediently. Her ruby claws featured brightly at the base of his shaft, matching the remnants of the cherry on her lips.
"It's perfect," she said as she typed up a few words to enhance the image. "Thank you."
She selected Ryan's name, hit send, and put the phone face down on her lover’s bedside table.
Meanwhile, back at her apartment, Ryan was slumped over on the toilet, nursing what seemed to be an incessant surge of sudden onset diarrhea. Upon hearing the sound of the notification from his phone resting on the nearby counter, and seeing her name pop up along with it, he experienced a fleeting sensation of relief. Until he opened the Snapchat app and was forced to endure a few second of an image of her lips wrapped around someone else’s cock.
The caption read, “Hey, babe. Hope you enjoyed the cookies. Just let yourself out when you're done."
P.S. This story is dedicated to the lovely Andrea and the rest of the Bijoux Indiscrets team for their praise and generosity at Eroticon 2018.
Thanks for the love, bbs.
More by Queen Jayne:
The Birthday Bash
Comings and Goings
Diamonds and Pearls
The Edge of Glory
Expressions of Grief
For Dommestic Use Only
Strangers on a Train