THIS ENTRY WAS POSTED ON September 11, 2014 BY co-written with Sarah Sloane.
"Quick," bellowed Lord Sturm, "Make your decision - the cane, or the whip."
The boy at his feet hesitated for only a moment before responding, "Whatever you wish, Sir."
"Dammit," Lord Sturm mumbled to himself, "I was hoping he'd tell me what to do."
***
"Undress me, Sylvia" she murmured, turning from the huge bay window that overlooked her impressive estate: a rose garden, tennis courts, several swimming pools, and in the distance an expanse of trees. I had heard rumors of what went on in those woods - week-long bacchanals with models flown in from Paris and Rome, hunting parties where the prey was much larger than a fox and the spoils were carnal.
I turned my attention to my hostess. I had been aching to undress her all evening, ever since I spotted her across the fetish gala in a latex catsuit that clung to every perfect inch of her body. Its polished surface seemed to glow in the moonlight.
With trembling hands, I obliged her request, pulling gently at the zipper just below her hairline. The catsuit peeled away from her as I unzipped, exposing her inexpressibly beautiful body to the night air. Underneath it, her skin was clammy and reeked of talcum powder and many hours' worth of stale sweat.
***
"You have been patient, my sweet, as I have bound you. You have stood immobile, as instructed, as I tied you to this St. Andrew's Cross, covering your body in intricate and beautiful knots. Now you are mine. You cannot move unless I untie you. You have done well, and you will be rewarded. What can I do to make you faint with pleasure?"
"...I have to pee."
***
She locked his wrists into massive metal cuffs that were joined to the wall with a heavy ring, and he looked at it nervously, knowing that he could not possibly stop whatever she had planned. He could hear her the click of her stilettos against the polished wood floor behind him, and then the zip of her sizable toy bag being opened. He felt himself begin to pant with terror and longing, when he realized: the ring was not actually bolted onto the wall with anything other than a drywall screw, which he could easily pull out. He thought about saying something, but decided to keep that information back, just in case this play date turned out well.
This installment of Disappointingly Realistic Erotica was co-written with Sarah Sloane.