The Naughty List (13 page)

“Pick up the scarf, slave,” she said.

I did. The BRAT paddle, plush cuffs, and bottle of massage oil from the fetish party lay beneath. The air heated with promise and the hairs on my arms stood on end.

She took the scarf in both hands and turned me so I faced away from her. Her breasts pressed against my back and I leaned into them as she tied the scarf around my head, her breath warming my cheek. When the scarf covered my eyes I saw nothing but dim light cascading through purple and crimson. Oblivious to everything but her smell and voice, I waited for her next move, heart racing with desire.

“Remember, our safe word is krampus,” she said. “Do you know why?”

“Because I’ve been naughty, Mistress?”

“Yes. You need to be reminded why I’m the most important person in your life so you never neglect me again.”

She tugged on the lead, and I turned until she stopped me with her palm against my shoulder. “Walk forward until your knees touch the bed’s baseboard.”

I was so erect I could cleave wood. What if I came all over her comforter before we even had a chance to start? I feared disappointing her, so I clenched my teeth, took a few deep breaths and fought for self-control.

She tugged the chain. “Kneel on the bed and crawl toward the headboard.”

I did as she ordered, creeping forward until the top of my head touched brass. As I wobbled on all fours, her fingers touched my left hand and firm cloth snapped over my wrist. She pulled my arm toward the corner of the bed where she fastened the other end of the cuff onto the headboard. Her footsteps sounded around me as she walked to the other side of the bed, and repeated the procedure with my right wrist. Splayed out with both wrists held fast, I was at her mercy—just the way she wanted me. Joy rose in me and I arched my back, offering her my bare ass. My entire body ached with desire, and putting myself in such a vulnerable position made my cock twitch. Angela had all the power. I was clay in her hands, and she could squeeze me into any shape she wished.

Sprawled face down on the mattress I awaited her next move. And the wait was both excruciating and arousing.

“I’m going to have to give you a spanking.”

I heard the cap of the lube bottle snap open, and the scent of cinnamon wafted around me. Her fingers, slick with lube, pressed into my butt cheeks. She rubbed in broad, circular motions, bringing the blood to my skin’s surface and making me ever so sensitive to her touch. Using broader strokes she kneaded my skin with her palms, and my cock stood at attention. I wanted her more than ever.

“Will you ever choose your buddies over me ever again?”

“No, Mistress.” I bit my lip in anticipation of that hard wood colliding with my backside.

Thwack!
Pain tore through me and I gasped.

“You will not cry out in pain. Nod if you understand.”

I nodded.

“You also will not come until I give you permission. Understand?”

I nodded.

Thwack
! The paddle came down on my ass once again. Hard. The holes carved into the wood sped it through the air and made the sting more painful. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

“Will you ever again forget our anniversary?”

“No, Mistress. Never again. I promise.”

Thwack!
My balls jumped at the sheer intensity of the strike. I breathed deeply, in part to ward off the pain and in part to keep from climaxing too soon. The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint her, but I didn’t know how long I could keep from exploding.

“When is my birthday?” she asked.

“December fifth.”

“Will you ever forget it again?”

“Never.”

I heard her squeeze more lube onto her palms, and the scent of cinnamon filled the air once again. My ass was on fire, and I wanted her soothing hands to rub away my pain. As if reading my mind, her fingers kneaded into my butt cheeks. My cock twitched and bobbed as she massaged the sting away.

“Does this feel good?” Her voice had softened.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Would you like to do this more often?”

“Yes, I would. Very much so.”

She wrapped her hand around my balls, and I gasped. Vulnerable and aching from desire, I buried my face in a pillow as she massaged my balls and then moved to my cock. The overwhelming urge to come filled me but she had not yet given permission. Holding it all in made my cock stiffen even more, and the sensation left me dizzy with excitement. I had no power to refuse her. I didn’t want to. I belonged to her.

“Would you like to come?” Her soft breath tickled my neck, her smoky voice teased my ear.

“Yes.”

“Go ahead.” The warmth in her voice made my heart soar.

I exhaled hard as she stroked me, up and down, side to side, and squeezed the head of my cock. I exploded with so much heat and longing I cried out and came against her stroking hand, bucking and thrashing about with so much intensity I could have jerked out of my restraints. Her fingers gripped me like a vice and I cried out “Yes! Yes! Yes!” so loudly the neighbours could probably hear me. Then the thought of that made me come even harder.

Spent, I lay face down, spread-eagle on the bed, every nerve in my body dancing with joy while she unfastened the cuffs and pulled off my blindfold. I could almost hear her smile.

“Sit up and turn toward me.”

I did as she ordered. She stood before me decked out in all that leather while I squatted there buck naked, ever vulnerable to her demands.

“So that’s wassail in that thermos?” She asked.

“Yes, Mistress. There’s enough for two glasses for each of us. Or one for me and three for you. Or four for you.” I grinned, eager to nourish her with wassail and my love.

“Good. We’re done playing for the night, and I forgive you.” I could have gathered her up in my arms and swung her around in the air I was so delighted, but I kept my joy in check while inside, my heart did the Happy Dance. I reached for my boxers but she held up one hand. “No, don’t get dressed. I like you naked.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

We spent the rest of the evening stretched out on her plush throw rug before a roaring fire in her living room. Eventually, I helped her out of all that leather and we enjoyed each other’s naked bodies until well past midnight. I would never, ever again disappoint her. She was much more important to me than leveling up or getting more gold in a silly game.

As for the Sandy Bay Community Holiday Display Contest, in the end Angela and I tied for first place and split the check. Going by the comments on our score sheets it wasn’t the neighbours, but the judges who’d heard my cries of ecstasy as I came. And they even gave us extra points for the twerking snowmen. I could not have cared less about sharing the check. I’d won a prize that no amount of money could buy.

* * *

Elizabeth Black
pens erotic tales of lust and longing. She also enjoys writing retellings of classic fairy tales, including her two self-published fairy tales “Trouble In Thigh High Boots” (Puss In Boots) and “Climbing Her Tower” (Rapunzel). Her erotic fiction has been published by Xcite Books (U. K.), House Of Erotica (U. K.), Circlet Press, Ravenous Romance, Scarlet Magazine (U. K.), and other publishers. Her short story “Like A Breath Of Ocean Blue” will soon appear in the “Best Lesbian Romance 2015” anthology published by Cleis Press.

Winter’s Daughter

Doug Blakeslee

Byron wiped snow from his goggles and peered down the run. Dozens of brightly colored blobs bobbed and weaved in the last bits of sunlight illuminating the slope. Trails of powder followed the skiers as the shish-shish of skis and boards cut a path from top to bottom. He sucked in a lungful of cold air and exhaled a billowing cloud
.
Winter had been good to the Cascades this year, and with Snoqualmie Pass opening two weeks early, everyone and their dog were hitting the slopes.

“It’s quite a sight,” said a soft voice behind him.

His foot slipped, threatening to send him tumbling, but a quick hop back saved him from an undignified descent. He eyed the girl in the pale blue jumper decorated with white snowflakes and jolly Santa faces. She’d tied her blonde hair back into a ponytail that jiggled with the movement of her head and a pair of reflective goggles perched on her forehead.

“Ain’t it though?” he said.

“I love the snow on the mountains, it reminds me of home.” She waved her pole at the other side of the valley. “Those aren’t as steep, but just as beautiful.”

Byron couldn’t quite place her accent.
Must be European.
“You’re new here?”

She nodded and held out her gloved hand. “Etina Vinterdatter.”

“Byron Hayden. Pleased to meet you.” They fumbled the handshake with their bulky gloves, laughing at the absurdity.

“Do you ski much here?”

“Every chance I get, been doing it since I was ten. They’re deploying me next week, but I’ll be back next season.”

“Deploying?” Puzzlement showed in her pale blue eyes.

“Army. Going to basic and then they’ll station me in Alaska as an engine tech. Six years of this.” Byron spread his arms wide to encompass the view. “That’s what the recruiter told me.”

She smiled brightly. “We’ve got some time before they close the slopes. Race you to the bottom?”

“I’m pretty good at this.”

“We’ll see, Byron.” She pulled her goggles down and shifted her skis to poke over the edge.

He copied her. “On three?”

“Three!” She pushed off with a tinkling laugh.

“Hey!” Snow sprayed in her wake as he charged after her. She weaved and bobbed down the path, her legs moving while her upper body remained still.
Holy hell, she’s damn good.
He bent lower and tucked as much as he dared to close the gap.

Her goggles glinted as she turned to look back at him and barreled across the finish, turning wide to scrub off speed.

Snow and ice accompanied his stop, shifting and turning to keep from running through the plastic fence. “That wasn’t fair.”

“You didn’t say I had to count to three.” Etina wrinkled her nose at him. “And you kept up just fine.”

She’s cute.
“Fine, but I want a rematch and this time we have an even start.”

“If you wish.”

Etina hummed a tune to herself as they rode up the lift, pressed together in the small metal seats. He could smell her pine scent, invoking a reminder of a newly fallen blanket of snow over a forest of evergreens.

“Do you live in Seattle?”

She shook her head. “I’m just visiting for a few weeks before I need to return home. It’s a… what’s the word? Vacation?”

“You could do worse than moving here. It’s not cold all year round and it rains a lot, but it’s green and the people aren’t all hung up.”

“I’d consider it.” Her hand shifted to rest on his thigh. “Are all the men like you?”

He caught her gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Not all men. Some of us have to work for a living.”

“Not like you?” She grinned.

“I’ve done construction since high school. I’m out in all sorts of weather and it’s demanding as hell, but it’s better than being cooped up in an office all the time.”

Etina smiled and leaned into him, pausing just on the edge of contact, as if to savor the moment. Enraptured by the boldness of her action, he froze on the edge of indecision; should he close the distance between them, or let her?

The cool press of her lips took his breath away. She tasted sweet and the flavor lingered even when the lift reached the top, and with a pang of disappoint he was forced to break the embrace and disembark.

“I like those type of men, Byron.” She winked. “We’ll talk more once I beat you to the bottom?”

“I think you underestimate my skill.”

Etina grinned. “I don’t think so.”

* * *

“It’s warm in here.” Etina’s coat, hat, and gloves were already in a heap by the floor and she was digging at the hem of her shirt.

“I thought we were going to talk some more?” He lied, trying to be coy. The trip to his room had been delayed by a photographer looking to make a quick buck by taking their picture.

She wore a white sports bra to cover her modest bust. “We can talk later. Right now I want to see if your skill in bed is as good as your skiing.”

So much for the small talk.
His cock rose to attention in response. He kicked off his boots and socks, then moved to his shirt. Etina’s cool hands ran across his stomach, which fluttered in response.

“You keep in good shape.” She traced a finger along his muscles. Her hair, free from its restraint, framed her face.

If he’d been stiff before, now he could cleave stone. “And you’re beautiful.”

“Flatterer.” She undid the buckle of his belt and pushed his snow pants down without a fumble or pause. The tips of her fingers ran down the bulge in his boxer-briefs.

Byron pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her back and caressing her smooth skin, while their mouths danced with each other.

Etina pulled the bra over her head and rubbed her hands over her pert breasts, fingers flicking over her stiff nipples and pink areola.

He kissed and licked each one, pulling at the nipples with his lips. Despite the fire and enclosed room, her skin retained a fascinating coolness that persisted even as they pressed together. She pulled him in closer and kissed the top of his head. His hands found the edge of her panties and rolled them down. As he removed her last bit of clothing, the flowery pine scent of her filled the room.

Her hands dug underneath his waistband, fingers digging into his backside and squeezing while her tongue traced a line along his throat and down along his chest; a cool line that sent shivers in his flesh. She hooked her thumbs on the edge of his shorts and forced them down until they pooled at his feet.

“You’re so warm.” Etina breathed into his ear before pushing him to the bed and climbing on top of him, reverse-cowboy style. A pair of puffy lips peeked out from her trimmed patch of blonde nether hair.

“Mmm, you’re ready.” Her hand rubbed along his shaft, thumb pressing against the tip, lightly flicking the opening that glistened with clear fluid. Ripples of pleasure coursed along him in time with her movements. Not fast or rough, but demanding and insistent enough to focus his attention on her actions and nothing else.