Dirty Erotic Oneshots

picked up again, laying a steady pattern of strokes from her ass down her legs to the back of her knees. Every stroke brought a new cry around the gag; her body bucked in her restraints as she pleaded for an end to the punishment, promised to be silent when ordered....

"Now you know what to expect," he said, "the real punishment will start. You determine how long it lasts, slut - as long as it takes you to last five strokes without a sound. Do that, and your punishment is done. You'll have learned your lesson about silence as well, I suspect."

Without warning, he swung the flogger again, and she cried out when it struck her ass. He tut-tutted; "Have to do better than that, slut."

She lasted the next three in silence, gasped too loudly on the one after despite her best efforts; he started the count again. One in silence, another cry; the count started again. This time she managed to last the five strokes without noise, every muscle tense with the effort of staying silent.

"Good slave," he said when a few moments passed after the last stroke without noise. "Good girl. You'll be more obedient now, right?"

She nodded frantically, choking back a whimper as she felt his hands running down her back - a hint of nails on tender skin, making her twist to try and get away. Shoulders, back, ass, legs - then working his way back up her legs to her pussy. She couldn't stop the moan as his fingers invaded her roughly, deep in her for a moment; her hips bucked.

"Very wet - 'slut' is becoming more and more appropriate for you by the minute," he said. She shook her head in denial, moaning again as his fingers thrust into her more deeply, easily - however she tried to deny it, she was aroused and his fingers were finding the truth of it. She shifted again, this time trying to work herself onto his hand, feel his fingers fucking her more deeply, increasing her arousal - he withdrew sharply.

The sound of locks being undone, her ankles being freed. "Up on your hands and knees, slut," he said, reinforcing the order with a solid spank. She obeyed, guessing what was coming next - the guess confirmed when she felt him kneeling behind her, heard the sound of a zip being undone. The feeling of his cock touching her pussy, just barely, then the head penetrating slightly. "For this, you can make as much noise as you want - or as you can, anyway," he amended. "One thing, though - no coming without permission. Do you understand?"

She made a vaguely affirmative noise - it turned into a muffled near-howl as he thrust into her, penetrating her deeply at one stroke. He rested there, hands on her hips, for a moment, then withdrew and thrust in again, just as hard. He took her that way, hard, driving into her - she could hear him gasping with effort, growling. His hands dug into her hips, fingers flexing to draw her back onto his cock as he drove into her harder - she could feel her climax building, and bit into the gag, trying to disrupt its course, moaning around the gag - then hearing him order her come, releasing her. She did, crying out - felt him come just behind her, maybe triggered by the way her cunt tightened around his cock...hard thrusts as he came in her...

He stayed there, buried deep in her for long minutes afterwards, before withdrawing. She whimpered a little at the feeling of his cock leaving her, and stayed waiting as he left the room. Come, her own juices - she wanted to collapse.

He returned, holding a cloth in one hand, something she couldn't make out in the other. "Lift up your head," he said, and she did.

"One more thing to fix." He unbuckled the gag, scrubbed at her lips with the cloth, then showed it to her. She could see streaks of the lipstick she'd put on that morning, a demure creamy coral shade that she'd always favoured.

The other object he was holding turned out to be a lipstick tube - bright red. "This is much more appropriate for you, my slut," he said, and applied it heavily. "This is what you'll wear from now on. Every day. Say, 'yes, Master' if you agree."

She drew breath. "Yes, Master."

He kissed her on the forehead. "Good girl. Now sit up."

She gathered her feet under her and knelt; he unlocked the chains that led to her wrists, settled beside her and held her close. "Happy birthday, little one. Enjoy the experience?"

Ellie laughed a little, leaning into him. He'd promised her something special for her birthday - not that she'd expected this. Flowers, possibly - a book, maybe. But not this. "I did." She nuzzled into his throat, kissing and licking. "Thank you." She'd talked a little about it months before, a new experience in their relationship. "I didn't expect you to remember."

A grin; she felt it. "Now, that book you were looking at in the bookstore...."

She looked down at the ruin of her clothes on the floor. "I think I'll need to find something else to wear."

"That's easily fixed," he said. "This, though," and he touched her lips with a fingertip, "this stays."

"Yes, Master." She rolled backwards, stretching, then seeing the gun on the nightstand. She picked it up - plastic. "Nice touch," she said with a grin.

---

Ann looked up as the silver bell tinkled. Same couple, and they headed for the same shelf the woman had been browsing earlier. She was dressed differently, Ann realised - the red lipstick suited her. And the body language between them said clearly that the interruption to her browsing had been a good one. Ann smiled - and then the expression froze as the woman bent over to pick up the book she'd been looking at earlier. Short skirt - it rode up as she bent, giving both Ann and the man a good view of...red stripes along the woman's thighs, red as her lipstick... f a n t a s y

 

 

Claire woke up in a fog, the last thing she remembered was taking a sip of tea, and then ... black. She sat up in bed, but that was the extent how much she was able to move: her legs remained flat on the bed as if tied to an invisible weight.

 

Once she had fully woken up, she looked out her window to see that it was pitch-black outside. She then noticed a man standing at the foot of her bed. He was tall and handsome, with alabaster skin, raven-black hair, a sharp face with a chiseled jaw, and bright green eyes that were both piercing and reassuring; he was dressed in all black.

"Who are you?" Claire asked, surprised that she wasn't scared of the stranger.

"My name is Robin," his voice was smooth and intense, "and I'm here to help you."

"Help me? How?"

"By making you beautiful, and making you mine. I've been watching you for some time Claire, you're lonely and you have been your whole life. You don't have anyone whom can trust or depend upon: no friends, no family, and no lovers. You don't have money or fine things, and you certainly don't have beauty.

 

I know you think that your life has no value and that it would make no difference if you just ended it. Well I'm here to fix all that. You see Claire, I'm a warlock -- a powerful warlock. My powers have given me great wealth and adventure, but they cannot give me love, and that is why I have come to you.

 

There is a ritual I can perform, that will transform a ... homely girl such as yourself into a creature of perfect feminine beauty, and bind her to me in deep, pure love. Its effects are permanent and irreversible, and the woman upon whom I perform it must submit willingly.

 

I'm offering you a chance to abandon your mundane life for one of pure pleasure. I will give you four days to make your decision, if you chose to go with me, then at sundown on the fourth day, stand at your window with this candle burning on your windowsill," he pulled a long red candle out of his sleeve and placed it on the footboard. "The choice is entirely yours Claire." 

As soon as Robin finished speaking, the room changed from night to day in a matter of seconds, with Robin's form fading with the shifting light until he was gone completely. The weight was lifted off of Claire's legs. She jumped up out of bed, and went to her foot board.

 

She picked up the candle and examined it, Claire knew she didn't own any like it, so there was no way she could have left it there. "That was real," she whispered to herself. Claire went to the bathroom and looked at herself. Robin was right, she wasn't beautiful: she was barely over five feet tall, her chin was small and pointy, just like her nose, and the rest of her face was flat and plain; her skin was pasty and blotchy -- not smooth and milky like Robin's.

 

Puberty had been especially tough for Claire. When many of her peers were blossoming into womanhood, growing luscious, full breasts, and fertile, round hips, Claire's figure remained pathetically boyish. Even now into adulthood, she had no hips to speak of, and droopy breasts that barely filled an A-cup.

 

Making things worse, her parents had died when she was only a toddler, forcing her to be thrown in-and-out of foster homes, giving her no sense of connection to anyone, or anything. With no one to provide her with guidance, Claire became a terrible under-achiever, and just barely graduated high school, consigning her to a life of menial labor. Now that a handsome stranger had literally offered her a way to magically change life, what should she do?

Four days later, Claire returned home from what she hoped would be her last day of work. She sat on her bed watching the sun go down for almost two hours, when it had just begun to dip below the horizon, she stoop up, placed the candle on the windowsill, and lit it with a match.

 

As she stood there wondering what was supposed to happen, the black smoke from the candle drifted up into her nose. Claire thought that it smelled sweet, then ... black. 

She woke up in a large bed with silk sheets, in a dark room she didn't recognize. She was naked. "Claire." She turned and saw Robin standing at the side of the bed, he was just as handsome as she remembered. "Claire, it's time."

 

He took her hand as she got out of bed, then led her out of bed and down a long hallway. "I want you to know," Robin said