Read Sex Tool Online

Authors: Elise Hepner

Tags: #erotica

Sex Tool

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WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is
for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an
infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to
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This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES
ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language
which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files
where they cannot be accessed by minors.


All sexually active characters in this work are
18 years of age or older.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or
are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events
or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.


Cover Design: Selena Kitt

Sex Tool © February 2010 Elise Hepner


All rights reserved









By Elise Hepner



Yesterday he was a priest. Today he
was drunk and tied to a wooden cross. The leather musk advanced over his
cologne, something sweet like candy. The sweat on his constricted brow gave way
to an aching moan of pleasure as I dangled a candle over his exposed flesh. It
started at a simple Halloween party. He was being a jackass and oozing charm to
whomever happened to want a glass of punch. It made me slow to approach the
table. It also made me want to vault through the crowd until the pink sides of
his face were shattered under my knees. He was cute. Too cute for the cocky. I
waited longer than I should have mostly because of my outfit. I didn't believe
in slutty Halloween, so green face paint had started dripping from the wart on
my nose. It tasted like lead on my lips when I took a bite of the tiny cheese
piece in my hand. With my experimental costume I'd stayed out of sight. A
friend of a friend. Now the lacing on my latex witch corset grew sticky with my
suppressed interest.

My scalp had already started tingling
from the tinsel wig when cocky boy got in over his head. His hands spanned the
nice ass of a girl in bunny ears in front of him. Short brown hair curled out,
that must have taken time, and a sprite form. She was packing a push-up bra underneath
all that wire and mesh holding her in--complete with tail. I giggled at my
small inner joke and heads careened towards me from different directions around
me. Ignoring them I watched the muscular jaw work over nothing, a nervous
gesture I was sure, while his fine hands traveled along her ass. She didn't
slap him but her pink lined mouth nearly dropped to the floor like an Elf ready
to give Santa a blow job. It would have made me laugh but right now it made my
breathing tight. The girl looked like she would cry, as if these kind of
advances along her ass were new. I could see her green eyes well up from here.


I couldn't do it. My hand gripped his
wrist and wrenched upwards. His skin slicker than I had imagined, almost
feminine in it's softness. The juice from the peppermint glittering behind his
teeth met my nose as he scrambled to get me off him.

“Excuse me? What the fuck, lady!”

Not the formal protest I was expecting
but it would do with his arm struggling under my tight gaze. I watched the
hairless forearm twist before letting him go and shooing the little girl away
from the punch table. She bounded away in her bunny suit every bit scared

“You're a turn-off tonight.” I drawled
and leaned against the buffet table. The feeling of cold metal leaking into
latex encasing my waist.

“I don't get you! Where do you come
off doing that?”

“I'd do it again. She didn't like

“We were getting to know each other
better.” He gave me a look that said he bought into the lie. Pathetic.

“You're pathetic.” I was never one to
mince my words around strangers

“You're a bitch, fuck you!”

The white neckband of his collar
arched out from his beef head neck and I could hear his rasped breathing. I
gave him a solid once-over. The tan on his skin had started to fade sharply at
the corners making me think fake. Bleached- blonde gel tresses float over his
fierce brown brows. It smelled like pineapple as I moved closer, our heads
almost level with one another. He was skinny. Nice arms, thickly developed,
good for cable rope lining his wrists. The brown eyes narrowed during my
assessment. I gave him no time for a retort.

“What's your number?”

Now it was his turn to gape. The hard
candy fell out of his mouth and almost hit my forehead to which I quirked an
eyebrow before pilfering a sharpie from my purse. The green little marker sat
in the fake cauldron I had been toting around all night. I offered an arm now
free of turpentine smelling green paint.

“Number.” It wasn't a question. His
bluff was called.

He scrawled several babyish squiggles
along my arm, shoved the pen in the top of my outfit at my breasts, and
shuffled off looking defeated. I watched the way his ass moved in the black
priest pants and my pussy clenched at the chiseled submission and secret

* * * *

I called him the night rain was coming
through my windows and leaking onto the hardwood floors. I needed a repairman.
My cat sashayed over little puddles, fussy meows blocking out the dial tone as
I punched in numbers with my nail less fingers. He answered on the first ring,
prompt. I liked that, my nipples gave me away against my black turtleneck,

“Hi, girl from the party here. You're
coming to my house. Get a pencil, this is the address” I spouted off the
numbers and letters from memory listening to the cadence of his breathing
patterns shift over the line. He cleared his throat three times. I ran my hands
over my top until I met the slit of shirt to pants where exposed flesh
lingered. Shivering up my lower back, tingly, as my finger glided over my tight
stomach. Years of anger. He huffed a quiet okay. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he hung up. I wouldn't have expected different.

* * * *

When he met me at the door a lack of
umbrella was immediate. He had also walked. The plains of his chest couldn't
have gotten that soaked walking from a car I couldn't see parked out front.
Fresh, close meat. I invited him inside, the squelching of his Doc Martin's
scared my Siamese and she darted into the back bedroom. He squinted into the
candle light I had set up earlier and shook off his head like a wet dog.

 “Want anything to drink?”

“Um, beer.”

His confidence was gone now and it
made me giddy. I walked into the tiny cottage kitchen and I could feel his eyes
on my ass: I wore a plaid skirt that matched the ticking on his clinging soaked
shirt. He was so tiny. Like a girl in the waist. It made me giggle. Which made
me trip over a potted plant at my feet, sprawling me on the lime linoleum. Way
to ruin the mood.

He careened towards me sideways
because the world was spinning from the bump on my head. His hands planted on
my shoulder blades, helping me up. Then fingers working at his t-shirt, prying
it off. I thought I was seeing things.

“We need to get you some ice.”

Ah, an explanation. A good one. He
bee-lined for my freezer and then shots of stinging cold were binding my horny
thoughts in place. A dot of water meandered from his shoulder to stomach and my
eyes followed before I tipped him over from his knees to sprawl on top of me. I
locked my arms around him and devoured his chapped lips. They tasted like
cherry chap-stick. That was it. My undoing. Makeshift ice pack went flying as I
dug my fingers into his crunchy hair and scalp, pulling upwards. It ripped a
yelp from his mouth, cranberry red from my lipstick. A shiver ran up my back as
I careened upward with his head in my hand, bowing his spine. He automatically
conformed to the position, assumed it. His head was down and arched from the
angle of my nails, his hands wrapped around his slim back, clasped together all
dainty. My pussy dripped and I growled at my new find.

“You're not new to this are you,

“No, mistress.”

I laughed and pulled him up from the
floor, dragging him by the hair towards my special place. The beers forgotten,
I had my drought sprawled out to drink within seconds. We would start light.
His pants were light, but that and the draft up my skirt made my mouth dry.
Wicked thoughts.

“Get up, on your knee's, puppy”

I knew I exuded cold calm as I fondled
the cane between my fingertips. Nothing was off but his shirt and we would have
to fix that.


He complied with a quickness I
admired. No chance to glance at each piece of flesh slowly now. He was exposed.
Thighs marred with bruises, ass in the air. His balls drew tight against him,
straining as I followed them to the line of his cock. A nice present from one
so skinny. And circumcised. A thin dribble of pre-cum already marked my violet
sheets. He would pay for that.

My stride grew bold. I whipped the
cane over his perky ass. It hit the air with a sting. A red mark formed along
his right ass cheek. His shoulders sagged, cock bobbing, but he made no sound
as I laid another blow. How admirable. Several more swift marks criss-crossed
his dimpled ass. I could almost taste his sweaty musk on my tongue as I laid
another blow along his lower back. He seemed to derive more pleasure than pain
from my treatment. I had already begun to rub my clit over my silken panties
after every line. My damp arousal made the cane slick.

“Get up and follow me on your hands
and knees.”

I didn't wait to see if he complied. I
left him to crawl through my articles of clothing as they were shed behind me.
I could hear his hungry pants, cock brushing the floor as I mounted the solid
wooden stairs.

I had it waiting. My newest piece of
“equipment” stood in the corner flocked by torn shadows from the purple lights
I had installed last year. No dungeon crap. I wanted violet light to rock my
world. I watched him descend before bringing out the wooden cross I would strap
him too. His face grew pale tinged with purple, like bruising up the

“Come here.” One crooked finger and he
was mine.

Naked, my cunt exposed to the cool air
from the vent shafts above, my thighs sticky with my own juices. His head
positioned at the opening of my cunt, licking along the curves of my cleft.

“Deeper.” My hands on his neck pulling
him in further toward my parted legs.

Warmth and pressure dipping into my
pussy with the shove of his tongue. My legs shook, liquid pools rooted to the
cement. Nibbles at my stinging clit, thirsty thrusts up towards my hole a new,
sweet slickness darting in my skin. Pleasure built in the curl of my toes
jumping from weak knees and crawling out on fingernails which gripped his neck.
My back arched holding on for my sanity as my fuzzy mind wrapped around the
orgasm that consumed from my stomach outwards in flashes of light that left my
eyes tilting towards the back of my skull.

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