Chris Williams Writer
Flash Fiction

Is sex dirty?

Only if it's done right.



Woody Allen 1935-
Everything you Always Wanted to Know About Sex (1972 film)






I know that most of you will realise that I don't actually commit any of the crime that I write about.

So if you could just transfere that principle to my erotic writing, I would be very grateful.

I had never considered writing erotica until I began to review it. Then I realised that the stories were just as technical to write as any other and that all the writing principles were still important. So I thought I would give it a go.





She hated the dress; he knew she didn’t wear red. It didn’t go with her complexion, it didn’t blend with her hair, in fact, he didn’t like her in red so she had no idea what made him buy it. She could understand him liking the style, the cross over bodice accentuated her full breasts and the skirt flared from a nipped in waist. The length was perfect, finishing a couple of inches above the knee, showing off her long legs. There was nothing wrong with it except it was red.
He must have done it deliberately, he knew her favourite colour, he also knew the one colour she wouldn’t wear and yet he chose it for her to wear on the anniversary of their first meeting. Scowling at the dress, Shaz knew she couldn’t refuse to wear it. That would definitely result in more than a gentle pat on the backside later.
            Turning sideways, she looked in the mirror and ran her hands over her flat belly. It was a flattering style, she should be grateful for that at least. Instead, she looked at the blush of colour and pulled a face at herself in the mirror.
            ‘Shaz, are you ready yet?’  Tony called up the stairs and jangled his car keys.
            No, she wasn’t ready, but there was nothing she could do about it this late on. Shaz slipped on black kitten-heels and grabbed her bag off the bed.
            The look in Tony’s eyes almost made wearing the red dress worthwhile. Shaz could see him scan her from top to toe and when he raised one eyebrow slightly she knew he was pleased with the overall look. Her heart lurched when he smiled; his brown eyes crinkling at the corners and the slight twist to his sensual mouth making him look so little boy that Shaz felt her knees go weak. She loved him to pieces, but sometimes he still infuriated her.
            Outside the evening was hanging on to the last of the days heat, but later it would be cool and then she would be glad of her wrap. The car beeped as Tony pointed his key fob at it before opening the door for her to get inside. She settled back against the warm, leather upholstery and felt the heat radiate through her dress and into the flesh at the back of her legs. Tony swung himself into the driver’s seat and then leant across to kiss her, his breath smelt of spearmint and Shaz eagerly pushed her tongue into his mouth, feeling the rough edges of his teeth, and the writhing mass of his tongue. He placed his hand on her knee just below the hem of the dress and as they kissed, his hand moved up her thigh. By the time she realised, it was too late; he had come to rest with his fingers brushing the taut fabric of her knickers. His kiss stopped abruptly.
            ‘I can explain, it was…’ Before Shaz could finish what she was going to say, he had withdrawn his hand and leant back into his seat. He was staring out of the windscreen and she could see the muscle in the corner of his mouth twitch, never a good sign.
            ‘I just thought as we were going out to a nice restaurant…’ Shaz tried again but he raised his hand to silence her and she waited to see what was coming next.
            ‘Did I give you permission?’ Tony asked.
            ‘No,’ Shaz knew she should have asked if it was all right for her to wear knickers. Tony didn’t like her to, and it was usually only allowed in special circumstances. Circumstances they were supposed to negotiate and she had just gone ahead and made up her own mind.
            Then he turned the key and started the car, no more discussion, no argument. Shaz stole a sideways look at his face, it had relaxed into the familiar concentration he wore when driving. She had no idea where they were going just that he had booked a table for seven thirty. It was now ten past seven so it couldn’t be far away.
            When Tony indicated left into the High Street, she knew he was taking her to the Italian where they’d had their first date. Cones stood in the road directly outside the restaurant, they pulled up along side another car and Shaz watched open mouthed as one of the waiters came out and removed the cones before waving Tony into the parking spot.
            ‘How did you get them to do that?’ she asked as Tony reversed into the space.
            ‘Nothing is too much trouble for you,’ he replied giving her a wink and smiling broadly.
            Shaz smiled back, he was about the best-looking guy she’d ever been with and he was the only one that made her stomach summersault.  Her whole being wanted to please him and more often than not, she managed just that. As she waited for him to come round and open the car door for her, she looked down at the red dress and cringed. If only she had worn something else then the evening would have been perfect. When Tony opened the door, he offered his hand to help her out; Shaz slipped her hand into his and flinched as he gave her fingers a tight squeeze. Once he’d locked the car, he offered Shaz his arm and they walked across the pavement arm in arm towards the restaurant.
            It was a double-fronted restaurant with huge plate glass windows. Bay trees and ivy festooned the door and pots of geraniums in brilliant red lined the base of the windows. Shaz watched as the women gave Tony furtive glances as they manoeuvred through the diners toward a secluded table.
            Once seated a waiter arrived and opened a bottle of Champagne, Shaz giggled as the bubbly fizzed in the flute and waited for Tony to make a toast.
            ‘To the most beautiful woman in the world, may she never stop receiving.’
            They chinked their glasses together as the waiter returned with two menus. He handed one to each of them. Tony stopped him leaving and took Shaz’s menu out of her hand and returned it to the waiter, ‘The Lady won’t require that,’ he said and waved the man away.
            ‘I don’t know what I want though,’ Shaz said, when they were alone again.
            ‘Don’t worry, Hun, I’ll order for both of us.’
            ‘But I might not like what you order, you eat weird stuff,’ Shaz slumped back in the chair and crossed her arms, angry he was taking over and making decisions for her.
            ‘Trust me, you’ll love it,’ Tony looked over the top of the menu and smiled.
            ‘No I won’t. I’ll hate it.’ Shaz pouted and hunched down in her seat.
            ‘You don’t know that until I’ve ordered it for you, do you?’
            ‘Yes I do.’ Shaz huffed and sat sulking whilst Tony turned his attention back to the menu.
            ‘I want pasta.’
            ‘You’ll get what you are given, so don’t start.’ Tony didn’t even look over the top of the menu this time.
            Shaz reached out and pulled the menu down from in front of his face. ‘But I want Fettuccini.’
            ‘I know what you like, but tonight you will eat what I order.’ Tony signalled for the waiter to return to the table and then ordered her lasagne’’
            ‘I don’t like that,’ Shaz said.
            ‘We have much more. Would you like to chose something else?’ the waiter asked.
            ‘Yes I would.’
            ‘No she wouldn’t, that’s all thank you.’ Tony handed the menu back to the waiter and watched as the man went off to the kitchen.
            ‘What you do that for?’ Shaz asked before taking a large mouthful of champagne and nearly choking on the bubbles.
            ‘Because I can,’ Tony sipped his drink and then twirled his glass between his fingers watching the light dance within the bubbles. ‘Now, stop being a spoilt brat and put a smile on your face.’
            ‘I am not being a spoilt brat; I just like to order my own food that’s all. In fact I also like to choose my own clothes.’ Shaz gulped down the remainder of her drink and reached for the bottle. Tony stopped her hand before she could grasp it.
            ‘No, you will wait until I have finished my glass.’
            Shaz glared at him and continued to try to reach for the bottle, Tony gripped her hand tighter and she let out a small mewl as he pinched her fingers together. ‘I said wait,’ he released her hand and sat back in his chair. Shaz placed both her hands on her lap beneath the table where she could rub her fingers without him knowing he had hurt her.
            ‘So do you remember the first time we ate here?’ Tony asked, sipping his drink and never taking his eyes from her face.
            How could she forget one of the strangest dinner dates she’d ever had. She’d been on her way home from work, it was a sultry evening in August and thunder had threatened all afternoon. She had to call into a deli on the High Street to get some shopping and when she came out the heavens opened and caught her in a downpour with no coat or umbrella.
            As she’d dashed to find shelter she found herself swept into the Italian restaurant by a tall dark stranger and at first she thought he worked there. When they were in the dry he introduced himself, booked a table and they ate together. To this day, she had no idea why she’d allowed herself to be highjacked off the street, it was so out of character, but she had spent the best twelve months of her life since meeting Tony.
            The waiter appeared with a basket of bread and a dish of olives. Shaz waited until Tony nodded before she helped herself to both, whilst she ate he poured them another glass of bubbly and she took another drink quickly in case he took the glass away.
            The waiter returned with their food and Shaz looked at lasagne and then at Tony’s Fettuccini. She much preferred his. He began to eat his fettuccini, whilst she pushed her lasagne around the plate. To be fair she didn’t dislike the dish he’d ordered her, but she wanted Fettuccini tonight.
            ‘Stop playing with your food and eat it,’ Tony said between mouthfuls.
            ‘I want what you’re eating,’ Shaz said.
            ‘You have your own food, now eat it.’
            ‘I don’t like it, I want that.’
            Tony placed his fork down carefully on the side of his plate and wiped his mouth with his napkin. ‘You are behaving like a spoilt brat and you know how I feel about that. This has been going on since I collected you, now would you care to tell me what has caused this behaviour?’
            ‘Nothing,’ Shaz kept her eyes on her meal as she pushed her food around the plate.
            ‘Look at me.’
            Shaz shook her head and kept her eyes down, she knew if she looked up she would see “the look” on his face and that would be her undoing.
            ‘I said look at me, now, Sharon.’
            Something in his voice told her it was time to toe the line and so she raised her eyes and tried to look over his shoulder so she didn’t have to meet his glare.
            ‘Is there something interesting behind me?’ Tony asked and Shaz could detect the slight amusement in his voice, which made her feel tingly inside.
            ‘Then look at me.’
            This was the one thing she desperately needed to avoid. It would make her behave even more childish than she already was and she knew there was nothing she was going to be able to do about it. Moving her gaze to meet his she felt her insides flip at the passion in his eyes and she knew that things were going to become very interesting.
            ‘So are you going to tell me what started all this childish behaviour,’ Tony kept his gaze steady and waited for an answer.
            ‘I told you, nothing.’
            ‘That is not the truth Sharon, I know you better than you know yourself, and in fact I know what’s wrong, but I want you to tell me. So?’
            ‘Just not feeling that good, that’s all.’ She just couldn’t bring herself to tell him she hated the dress.
            ‘You are feeling fine, so come on spill, or our meals are going to get cold.’
            ‘It’s the dress.’ Shaz said, trying hard to keep eye contact.
            ‘The dress?’
            ‘Yeah, I love it. I do honestly, but I don’t usually wear red.’
            ‘No, you don’t, but I chose it so you should be pleased to wear it.’ Tony began to eat again; the conversation was at an end as far as he was concerned.
            ‘But I hate red, you know I do.’ Shaz couldn’t help herself, this was supposed to be a special night and he didn’t care he’d ruined it.
            ‘That’s enough, now eat your meal.’
            ‘Didn’t want this either,’ Shaz pushed the plate away; she wasn’t going to eat it because she hadn’t chosen it.
            Tony slid the plate back in front of her. ‘I said eat up.’
            Shaz sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, she knew she looked petulant and she knew that several other people, sat close by, were beginning to take an interest in the argument.
            Tony picked up his napkin and wiped the corners of his mouth before placing it alongside his plate. He sighed and shook his head slightly. Then without speaking, he stood up and walked around the table. Taking her napkin, he placed it on the table then reached for her hand. She moved it before he could grasp her. Letting out a pained sigh he took her elbow and pulled her to her feet.
            The other diners were now desperately trying to pretend there was nothing odd about a young man almost dragging a girl towards the front of the restaurant. One of the waiters stepped forward to intervene, but another stopped him and shook his head, warning him to leave well alone.
            Shaz could feel the blush start somewhere above her breasts and felt it spread upwards until she knew her cheeks were as red as the dress. The journey to the restaurant door was a blur and Shaz didn’t see the looks of the women that were a mixture of horror and envy, or worse the looks from the men that said, you lucky bastard.
When they got to the door Shaz realised they hadn’t paid the bill, but Tony wasn’t listening to her. He pushed open the door, pulled her out onto the street, and manoeuvred her across the pavement to the car. A thrill of expectation ran through her, he was going to take her home and then, she tried not to think about what he would do once they were behind closed doors.
As they approached the car, Tony steered Shaz away from the passenger door and towards the bonnet. Before she had time to ask what he was doing, he bent her over the front of the car and she found herself spread across the warm metal. She tried to stand, but Tony had a hand between her shoulders and held her firmly in place.
‘Tony, stop it?’ Shaz said trying to wriggle out from under his grip. ‘This isn’t funny, let me go.’
‘No, Shaz, I’ll tell you what isn’t funny, you behaving like a spoilt brat all evening. I have tried to ignore your behaviour, but no more.’
Shaz felt the skirt of her dress flipping over her back and tried to grab it and bring it back down.
‘Tony, you can’t, not here.’ The more she wriggled the tighter he held her and then she felt his hand come down on her backside with a resounding slap, which made her squeal even though it wasn’t as hard as he had spanked her before.
His hand slapped her left cheek just below the line of her knickers. The resounding slap on bare flesh sounded like an explosion in her desperate mind. She could imagine the faces of the diners as they peered out of the windows to watch the spectacle unfolding before them. A sharp sting on the corresponding right cheek made her gasp aloud.  Than his hand came down quickly landing a resounding slap at the top of her thighs, Shaz lifted one leg bending it at the knee to try to absorb the pain. Tony hooked his leg around her.  Shaz could feel herself beginning to focus solely on the pleasure she was getting and had to drag her mind back to the fact she was in the middle of the High Street outside an Italian restaurant. Although she couldn’t see the place, she knew the other diners would be watching through the plate glass windows and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
Tony’s hand continued to place matched spanks on both her cheeks, first one side then the other, the sting getting stronger with each slap. Shaz tried to wriggle about to ease the heat building in her pussy as well as her ass. Then once again, Tony slapped her thighs.
‘Ouch, that hurts,’ Shaz tried to move again. The slaps were going beyond warming her cheeks, to stinging and she knew that if her backside had been bare it would have matched the colour of her dress.
Tony went back to laying slaps first on one cheek and then the other, overlapping each one to make sure they continued to sting.
Then he stopped and she felt the material of her dress slide back down over her now stinging backside. Tony stood her upright and turned her to face the restaurant. She could see the other diners and the staff watching with a mix of horror and envy and she could feel tears prick her eyes as the humiliation hit her.
She tried to turn back to the car, ‘Can you open the door please.’ Shaz waited for Tony to click the door locks. Instead, he turned her once more to face the restaurant and taking her by the elbow, he walked her back towards the door. ‘No, Tony, please take me home, I can’t go back in there.’
He leant in close to her so she could smell his aftershave. Letting his lips brush her ear he whispered, ‘Was that everything you’d hoped for?’
A waiter opened the door and Tony guided her back through the restaurant to their table. The waiter had followed them back and Tony asked him to remove the plates and bring them a menu.
Shaz sat with her eyes downcast and tried to ignore the glow from her nicely warmed backside. The other diners were beginning to turn their attention back to their meals and the waiters no longer focused on their table, but went about their job. Their waiter returned with one menu, which he offered to Tony.
‘Ladies first,’ Tony indicated for the waiter to hand Shaz the menu. ‘You can have anything you want, sweetheart.’
Shaz took the menu and waited until the waiter had left them before leaning across the table so no one else could hear what she said, ‘I want more of what I’ve just had,’ she said with a wicked smile.
Tony lifted one eyebrow and smiled, ‘You’re wish, is my command,’ he said as he removed his napkin off his knee and placed it on the table. Shaz grasped his hand before he could stand up.
‘Maybe I can wait until we get home,’ she said, feeling the blush of colour rise up from her neck once more. 




Happy Anniversary

The knocking became impatient so I guessed they’d been there a little while, but as I’ve been drying my hair I just hadn’t heard them. I open the door to a blonde haired god, okay maybe not a god, but hell he looked good, not that blonde is my favourite, much prefer dark and dangerous, but beggars can’t be choosers. He’s holding out a Jiffy bag.
            ‘Miss Samantha Hall?’
            He has a great voice, too dark and rich for his looks.
            ‘Yeah, that’s me, something to sign for?’
            ‘No, nothing,’ he holds out the packet. ‘Just as long as you’re the right girl,’ and with that he turns and walks back down the corridor towards the lift.
            Closing the door behind me I look for a return address on the packet, I wasn’t expecting anything and there is no hint as to the sender. Back in the kitchen, I dig out my scissors and cut across the top of the packet then tip it onto the kitchen table. Out tumble a blindfold, and a letter. Curious I snatch up the letter and sit down to read it.

            My darling Sam,
                                    You have done everything I have asked of you over the last twelve months, you have been a perfect submissive and so now it is time for me to reward you with an anniversary present. I want you to leave your flat door on the latch at exactly 8 p.m. I want you to kneel naked in your hall with your back to the door. Then put the blindfold on, and place your hands on the back of your head and wait for me.
                                                                                    G x

     Well, now I know who’d sent the packet. I met Gareth around fifteen months ago, he was a friend of a friend and I had assumed he was in a steady relationship, as he always seemed a little out of reach. He would watch the dynamics of the friends, but he wouldn’t join in with the stupid things we got up to. Our paths crossed often, he would always acknowledge me, but he never made any move to chat and somehow I just couldn’t work up the guts to speak to him. That was until one night at a friend’s Bar-B-Q when I’d had a little too much to drink. We’d started partying mid afternoon and by eleven at night I was well beyond redemption. I also felt more than a little sick and decided it was time to call a taxi. Whilst I tried to focus on my mobile to find the usual taxi firm I stumbled sideways and Gareth had been the one that stopped me falling into the flowerbed. He’d offered to take me home, he drove a Porsche 911 and when he told me not to throw up on his upholstery I knew he wasn’t joking.

      After that he called around a couple of times to pick me up if we were going to the same party, but still he didn’t ask me out and I began to wonder if he was gay. Eventually I couldn’t stand it any longer and I asked our mutual friend about him.

      ‘I wouldn’t date Gareth unless you are absolutely sure you want his attention,’ Clair had told me.
      ‘Why the hell wouldn’t I want it, he’s gorgeous,’ I was wondering if she fancied him herself.
      ‘In that case, Hunny, all you’ve got to do is ask him,’ was her reply and no matter how hard I tried, she wouldn’t tell me any more.

      So, I decided that the next time he picked me up, I’d ask him out on a date and as they say, the rest is history. I soon learnt his dominant tendencies and he awakened in me a need to submit. Since then our relationship had developed into one that satisfied us both and I was prepared to do anything he asked to please him.

      I strip off; I have no idea what he’s going to do but I know I’ll enjoy it, so once I’m naked I go back to collect the blindfold. Picking up the letter, I re-read it before looking at the clock over the sink. It’s a minute to eight so I grab the mask and go to put the front door on the latch. He hadn’t said anything about not using a cushion to kneel on so I grab one off the sofa and go back into the hall. The door is ajar and I’m kneeling with my back to it, I have the mask on and I’ve clasped my hands behind my head, which automatically pushes my tits out exposing them for his pleasure, and now it’s a matter of waiting.

            Eight o’clock sharp he’d said so what ever he has planned I won’t have long to wait. I can imagine him coming up behind me, running his hands over my body, caressing my tits and then pinching the nipples so I let out tiny cries of pleasure. Before letting his hand stroke down over my belly until his fingers find my already throbbing clit and rub it until I’m begging him to let me cum.

            The ache in my knees stop the fantasy and I wonder just how long I’ve been here. If I lean back a little, I can see the clock in the living room, but then I’d have to remove the mask. No, I won’t do that because I don’t disobey him. Even with the cushion I’m beginning to find the kneeling hard going, he’s never late what the hell is he playing at. I don’t mind discomfort or pain if he’s here giving it, but this isn’t any fun and now my arms are beginning to feel like the circulation’s been cut off. I’m also getting chilly, not that the flat’s cold it’s the lack of movement.

            I’m fed up, it isn’t funny leaving me kneeling here like this, what the hell does he think he’s doing. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s been at least twenty minutes, possibly more. Well there’s a limit even to my submission and I’m not going to play this game much longer.
            Without my sight, I find myself straining to hear every little noise. There’s the distant muffle of neighbours TV’s, some one is rattling pots, possibly washing up. Was that a car door shutting outside, that sounds like footsteps, are they coming here, no I can hear a key sliding into the lock of the door in the next flat, then a small squeak as it’s opened, so it’s Mr Edwards arriving home from work, which means it's 8-30.
            Can I hear breathing? Of course I can’t, there’s no one else in the flat yet, I’d have heard them come in, wouldn’t I? Th
e hairs on my neck stand up, for goodness sake what am I doing trying to scare myself half to death. Was that just my heart beat, yes it had to be, if someone had come in I’d have heard the safety chain rattle. My breath’s coming sharp now and I can feel my legs tremble as fear creeps through me, I’m sure there is someone in the hall other than me.

            ‘Who’s there,’ my voice quivers and I feel silly as soon as I’ve spoken. I still don’t know what game he’s playing, but scaring me half to death wouldn’t be it, so I just have to wait him out.

            The boredom level is awful and I’m so stiff from being in the one position, if he doesn’t hurry I’m going to lock the front door and go to bed. A footfall jerks me back to alert and I’m sure this time that someone is in the hall. Before I can speak, I feel hands touch my elbows and I jump.
           ‘You scared the hell out of me.’

          I’m so relieved to feel his touch that I begin to move my arms but his grip stops me and I hold still. He loosens his grip and I feel his hands slip along my forearms towards my wrists, which he circles easily and releases my clasped hands. My arms ache as he slowly moves them down to my side and I can feel all the blood rush back to my fingers. He runs his hands up and down my arms helping the circulation to come back and then he grasps my wrists again and takes them to the small of my back. I realise too late what he is about to do, the click of the cuffs comes as such a surprise that I don’t even try to stop him until it is too late and now it is useless to struggle, I know I can’t get out of them, I've spent many hours trying believe me.

            His hands run back up my arms and come to rest at my shoulders, my tits ache to be touched by him and I’m sure he’s going to move his hands round to cup each one and pinch at my nipples. He grips my shoulders tighter and pulls me to my feet, my legs have gone dead and I stumble backwards into him.

           It’s a realisation that bypasses any logical pathway, but usually my head comes to rest on his chest as he is seven or eight inches taller than me in my bare feet, I have never come to rest against his chin. T
his isn’t Gareth, I open my mouth to scream and a hand closes over it stifling my cry.     

         ‘Hush, and keep still,’ a harsh voice speaks right beside my ear and it didn’t come from the guy holding me, so there are at least two of them. The one holding me releases the pressure on my mouth, I take a huge gasp of breath ready to scream when one of them stuffs a ball gag in and I feel the strap tighten around my head. I struggle to get out of the guy’s grip but his fingers bite into my flesh and I know it’s a pointless struggle.
        Now I can feel the other one binding my ankles, I try to kick out and get a resounding slap across the thigh. With my ankles bound, I’m laid on the floor, and rolled into some kind of blanket. My instinct is to fight but I lie still terrified that if I panic, I’ll suffocate myself. The gag is biting into the sides of my mouth and I can feel dribble trickle down my chin. Gareth should be here, where the hell is he, I need him so much and if he comes now he’ll catch these two, and I’ll be safe.

      Tears well up and I fight to stop them, I can’t cry in a gag, I need to keep my nose clear. The sudden lift off the floor makes me feel dizzy, I think it has more to do with the blindfold than anything else, I often feel disorientated when I wear one. They hold me at shoulder and knees in the cocoon of the blanket and carry me like this until I think we are outside the flat, but I can’t be sure.
      They jostle me about so I think we are going down the stairs and now it feels colder and I’m sure we are outside. If I could just shout or scream loud enough someone may take notice but the gag stops me and the sudden drop takes my breath as they let me fall on the ground. Then I can hear an engine start up and the floor is moving beneath me, I’m in the back of a vehicle possibly a van, as I don’t feel cramped.

      I have no idea how long I’ve bounced around against the hard floor but eventually we have come to a stop. They drag me across the floor and lift me over someone’s shoulder. I try to kick at the person but the fact I am tied and wrapped is making it useless. The slam of a heavy door tells me we are inside another building, before I can think beyond that I'm dropped back onto a soft surface, possibly a mattress. Then the blanket is unwrapped and I can feel cool air touch my body just before strong hands toss me over onto my stomach. The gag is becoming a problem and I am so pleased when I feel the strap loosening and the ball dragged from my mouth. I take a couple of deep breaths and then begin to scream, loudly and with as much passion as I can manage. The sound ricochets back at me. Where the hell was I, it felt like a large room, but it was just a feeling, as I had no real way of knowing.

            The door banged again, did that mean they had left me here alone, ‘Hello, hello, someone answer me, please.’ There’s no answer, but I can hear someone moving about. ‘Hey, I don’t know what you’re playing at but for fucks sake let me go.’ If I rub my head against the mattress, I should be able to dislodge the blindfold, it may not help me, but at least I would have an idea who I was dealing with.

            ‘Oh no you don’t missy,’ hands grab my head and lift it off the mattress holding the blindfold firmly in place, ‘this will be much more fun if you don’t know what’s about to happen, more fun for us anyway.’ The same voice from the flat. He’s pulling a hood over my head and down over my face and neck.

           ‘I wish to hell you’d stop this,’ I try to say but it’s muffled inside the hood. Someone turns me over on the mattress and takes the rope off my ankles. Someone is pulling my legs apart, I kick and thrash, a groan tells me I’ve hit one of them hard, their grips tighten and tether me wide; it's too late to fight. I’m pulled into a sitting position and the cuffs are removed, only this time I am not given the opportunity to hit anyone because my arms are held stretched out from my body and I’m forced back down. They are tying my wrists out to spread eagle me on the bed.

            Talk about feeling vulnerable, I’m shaking uncontrollably. At first I thought it was just a sick joke, but now I’m not so sure, I don’t think Gareth would do this, he wouldn’t frighten me like this. So who the hell are these guys? And just what was going to happen?

            I can hear the throb of a vibrator just before someone pushes it against my pussy lips. I try to move my hips to get away from it, but a hand pushes against my lower belly and holds me firmly in place. The vibrator is pushing against my lips and I can feel them parting much against my will. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing just let me go,’  I mumble through the hood shaking my head and moving my upper body, but there is no way I can move my hips.

         A low laugh is the only reply as the vibrator eases into my hole. I shouldn’t be wet, but then I guess no one told my pussy that and the vibe slips in easily. It thrusts rapidly and then comes to rest with the head against my G spot. The vibration is sending waves of passion through me and I cry out for who ever it is to stop. He drives it deeper, the pressure pushing against my womb, sending more waves through me. As he pulls the vibrator back slightly, it hits my G spot again and then he is rubbing my clit and I orgasm, cum pooling beneath me. How could I do that, these guys could be about to kill me and I’m cumming for them as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

            The vibrator has gone and I can feel hands untying my wrists and ankles, as soon as I think I am free I try to get off the mattress but someone grabs me roughly round the middle and flips me over onto my stomach, then hands grab my limbs and tie me back, spread eagled on the mattress.

            I can feel someone’s fingers pushing into my pussy rubbing in and out coating them in cum. Then I feel the fingers slip up the crack of my arse and rub the cum around my arsehole.
            ‘No, please, not that.’ Now I am crying, and trying to struggle away from the fingers. I clench my butt cheeks, beg and cry for them not to do it. I'd not been taken in the butt, it was the one thing I had offered to Gareth and he said he’d take it when he thought I was ready. I couldn’t offer him my virginity, which had long gone before I met him, but this was special, it was for him and now some toe rag was going to take it away.
           I can hear my voice reaching hysteria inside the hood but I can’t do anything about it; I feel hysterical and I’ll do everything I can to stop this happening although exactly what I’m going to be able to do in my present situation is anyone’s guess.
            The finger is still dragging cum up from my pussy to my arse and I hate myself for being such a slut, each time the finger delves in my pussy I can feel myself getting wetter.
         ‘No, please, don’t, anything but that, please stop, not that please.’ I’m crying and begging and it’s pathetic, but then the finger stops and I can feel the person move off the mattress. I hold my breath, is this it, is he going to violate me now. I can hear something dragged across the floor, like a heavy piece of furniture. As I listen, trying to stifle my sobs so I can hear better, I think I catch a whispered discussion and then footsteps coming back to the bed. They’re untying me again but this time they keep hold of my limbs and lift me off the mattress. I struggle and twist but all I succeed in doing is hurting my shoulders and getting gripped tighter around the knees.
        My feet touch the ground but someone is still holding my ankles, the other person is gripping me tightly round my body keeping my arms pinned to my sides. Hands grab my ankles and pull my legs apart before restraining them against something that could be table legs. Then they grip my arms and push my body forward, this is no table, I’ve been over this kind of thing before, it’s a whipping horse. I try to get upright, ‘let me go you twisted bastard, you can’t do this, get off me.’ Someone pulls the hood off and grabs a handful of hair, it’s pulled hard forcing me to lie still against the horse whilst they tie my hands to the other side, then he adjusts my mask just to make sure I can’t see a damn thing. I rest my wet cheek on the leahter covering, I must look a real mess with tears and snot pouring down my face

            There is a lot of shuffling going on behind me and I’m trembling with fear, I can hear footsteps move away and the heavy door open and close. Have they gone, is it some kind of trick. I try to stop crying long enough to listen, silence, I’m sure I’m alone and then I hear a breath behind me and know I'm not.

            ‘Please, I don’t know who you are but I’m sure you’re not bad. Look just let me go and I’ll keep the mask on until you’ve left, I’ll never even know who you are,’ the tears are pouring down my cheeks again mixing with snot and I can feel my limbs tremble with fear.

                ‘Shhhh,’ the sound freezes me, literally with a cold shudder running down my back.

            ‘For fucks sake, let me go,’ I struggle against the restraints but they hold firm. ‘You’re sick, do you know that, fuckin’ sick, let me go, just let me fuckin’ go will you.’

            A sharp slap across my backside shuts me up and my head jerks against the wooden side of the horse. Then a hand starts to massage my arse, rubbing and squeezing the cheeks. No matter how much I fight against it I’m not able to move enough to get away and although I hate myself for it, I like the feel. I like the pressure of his fingers pushing against my flesh, running down my crack, squeezing my thighs where they join my pussy.  Then his fingers push into my lips and sink into the moist hole that is now aching to feel filled. I can hear the moist sounds as he moves his fingers in and out and his breath is getting faster, I know it’s turning him on and a part of me is pleased by this even though I may be about to get raped. The confusion in my head is too much and I moan with pleasure and feel my body relax and take what is happening.

            His fingers slip out damp and slide upwards into my arse crack and play around the puckered hole. Jolted back to life I squeeze my arse tight and beg him not to do it, ‘Please don’t, I’ve never done this before, it’s special, please don’t, please anything but this.’

            He pushes harder against my hole and I feel the muscle tighten and then relax as he pushes a little more. The tears are streaming again and I am struggling to think how to stop him, this was the one thing I was keeping for Gareth. Now some punk is going to snatch it away from me, from us.

            He stops and I try to listen to what he is doing, maybe that is it, maybe now he will let me go. Fingers push between my cheeks and the cold of lube shocks me, he is not going to stop and I begin to scream, as loud and as long as I can.

            He puts more lube around my arse and slips a finger inside, I stop screaming and feel my whole world ripped from me, there is nothing left to fight for and I hang limp across the horse. The finger moves in and out rubbing the lube inside me and around the hole, then I can hear him unzip his trousers and I begin to whimper, I feel useless and pathetic and although I know I should, there is no more fight in me.

            I can feel the end of his cock push against my arse hole and although I try to clench my cheeks it is too little too late. As he pushes harder and I begin to feel his cock enter me, he leans closer to my ear and whispers,

            ‘This is for my perfect submissive, happy anniversary darling,’ as I realise it’s Gareth he drives his cock deep into my arse and I cry out with pleasure as he takes what’s his.



Strictly Not Dancing

Enrico worked me hard all week at rehearsals.  When I’d won a place in a local dancing competition, I hadn’t realised the pressure I’d be under. It was a copy of Strictly Come Dancing, but the professionals taught in local dance schools and the amateurs were people like me. Two left feet and a load of enthusiasm. Still, I had the best partner, a five foot nine Italian stallion, with the body of a god. I hadn’t realised just how fit and strong these dancers were until he started lifting and throwing me around. His muscles rippled, his six-pack was tighter than my Aunt Mary’s washboard and his olive skin felt great slicked with sweat. More than enough to turn me on. There again most dark skinned lads turned me on so he didn’t have to try very hard.
            It wasn’t long before I started to realise just how competitive the dance instructors were. I’d entered for a bit of a laugh, but Enrico was taking the whole thing deadly serious and he soon made me realise that I had to do the same. He could look at me with those dark eyes and turn me on, but he could also look at me and make me realise I’d gone a step too far. When he took me in hold I wasn’t supposed to wriggle up against him, but it was hard not to, I can tell you.
Enrico was pleased with our growing scores over the first three weeks. I started to take the whole thing a lot more seriously, learning the steps and then going out on the dance floor feeling reasonably confident.
The judges would tell us what they did or didn’t like and then they would score us out of ten. When all the couples had danced, the audience would get to vote, the couple with the least votes had to go. I was really beginning to enjoy myself and I thought we were doing quite well; that was until last week.
Enrico and I had danced the Charleston. It’s a fast and furious dance and somewhere along the line, I missed out a small section of the routine. I could see how displeased Enrico was as we stood before the judges, but I’d been scoring quite high so I was confident they would overlook a little mistake. Every one of them mentioned it. I could feel Enrico tensing beside me, I’d let him down. When the scores came I had four sevens and a six, the lowest yet, and that was why the rehearsals this week had been hell.
Rehearsals start on a Sunday morning. The rest of the week I have a nine to five job, so we have to train every evening. It was exhausting and I knew I was going to have to work extra hard to get my scores up this Saturday. Lady Luck smiled down on me and we drew the Waltz. I’d done this dance with my dad and I knew how it went. It was all on a count of three and you moved around the room a lot.
I loved the ballroom dances. Enrico held me in his arms and I could breathe in his delicious scent, warm skin, deodorant and sweat. The Waltz turned out to be nothing like the shuffle round the floor I’d managed with my dad. Eventually I learnt the steps and by Thursday we were beginning to look like we were both doing the same dance. Enrico had been uptight at the start of the week, more than once he’d mentioned that I shouldn’t get another six, but as I progressed he relaxed and we began to have fun again. I loved him holding me, I loved the feel of his hands against my bare flesh and I always made sure what I wore allowed for plenty of bare. I have to say though that Enrico was always professional, never once did he take advantage. Occasionally, due to a lift or hold, his hands would brush my tits but he never made anything of it, it was just something that happened, all the others took it in their stride, but Enrico’s touch set me alight, sending a tingle through me, making my pussy damp.
I also love the transformation when the dressers have finished with me; and can’t help but admire myself in the full-length mirror in the women’s dressing room. This weeks dress is powder blue chiffon, layers and layers of floating fabric, ankle length with a tight waist. It feels luxurious against my bare thighs, I chose to wear stay up stockings, I couldn’t dance in a suspender belt and tights just don’t do it for me. The bodice is exquisite, covered with beadwork and a low square-cut neckline. I’m going to wear a balcony bra, in the same powder blue as my dress, to lift my tits and push them into a fantastic cleavage. Not the sort of bra to wear if you’re going to hang upside down, but perfect for the Waltz, the creamy flesh of my tits bulging to escape the fabric. I imagine Enrico slipping his hand in to cup my tit and tease it out so the nipple stands erect waiting for his hot lips. A call over the loud speakers calling for all dancers to the floor brings me back to reality and I can feel a damp patch in my knickers
The air’s electric as we all wait to go out and perform. We’d started out as ten couples and were now down to just five, it was getting serious. Enrico and I had drawn last place this week and that meant a long wait. As each couple go out we all wish them luck. Then the couple before us finish their Quick Step and Enrico and I are waiting in the wings, he’s holding my hand and I feel safe. He gives my hand a little squeeze and I look up into his beautiful brown eyes, they aren’t twinkling like usual, he lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers,
‘We will not get a six: you will be a good girl.’
Suddenly it’s our turn and he swirls me out onto the dance floor. His eyes are shinning again and he smiles at the audience. Winking at the women on the front row who wriggle in their seats thrilled at his attention. The music starts and we’re in hold, my feet fly around the floor, this is so perfect. He holds me firmly and I’m sure of my position. The beat is one, two, three and even I can manage to keep count to that.
As Enrico swirls me away from him and then brings me back to his hold I feel his erection against my stomach and I glance quickly at his face, his head is in perfect pose and he doesn’t meet my gaze. I stumble a little, I’ve forgotten to keep count, but with a cock rubbing against you, anyone would. I don’t think it’s too bad. I’m almost sure the judges won’t have noticed. Now I am back on track, one, two, three, in perfect time to the music. We finish with me gracefully falling to the ground and hanging my head whilst Enrico stands over me for a second and then helps me to my feet. I flash him a huge smile, but his eyes tell me everything, it was a bad mistake and it isn’t going to be good.
All the judges saw I’d lost count, damn. It wasn’t my fault, what could they expect with an erection pushing against me. Not that I could say anything, probably wouldn't be the best defence. Their scores were worse than last week, two sevens and two sixes. I couldn’t look at Enrico; I knew he would be so disappointed. Imagine my surprise when he kissed my cheek, twirled me around once and then led me off the dance- floor hand in hand. I started to apologise, but he put a finger to my lips and said, ‘Later.’
The others commiserated with us and then we all went back out to take a final bow before the audience cast their votes. Now there’s an hour’s break. The votes are collected and counted and the audience will have time to eat and drink. The dancers have a buffet in the green room, but most of us don’t each much, stress makes you feel sick. As Enrico and I follow the others, he holds me back a little and when they turn into the green room Enrico pulls me past and down the corridor.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask, lifting my skirt so I don’t trip.
‘You’ll see,’ Enrico turns left and we are at the top of a steep flight of stairs. ‘Come, it is okay.’ He leads me down the stairs into another corridor, which is lit dimly with a couple of bare light bulbs hanging from the ceiling.
‘Enrico, where are we going?’ I’m a bit nervous now; I’ve never been this far into the bowels of the theatre before. ‘I’m not sure I like this.’ I try to stop, but he grips my hand a little tighter and pulls me gently behind him.
‘Come, I have something for you.’ Enrico stops at a set of double doors and opens one. Reaching inside he pulls on a cord, which switches on several more single bulbs. I peer in, it’s a prop room and there are all kinds of things squirreled away down here. Stuff that’s probably not seen the light of day for years, racks of costume, furniture, bric-a-brac and shelves of hats.
Curiosity takes over from apprehension and I follow Enrico into the room. He closes the door behind us and I realise that this is it; he is going to make love to me. I can feel the tightness of my bodice as my nipples harden and the familiar tingling between my legs that I hope will escalate into full-blown orgasm. I wait for him to make the first move, anticipating the crush of his lips on mine and the feel of his hands gently caressing me, the damp patch between my legs is getting damper and I can’t breathe in the tight bodice.
Except Enrico isn’t taking any notice of me, he is looking about the room. Then he walks over to a large piece of furniture covered in a dustsheet. He rips the sheet off to expose an old green leather sofa, the sort I imagined found in a Gentleman’s club. He runs his hand across the back of the sofa and then signals for me to go to him. This is it; this is what I’ve been waiting for.
Enrico takes me in his arms and places small kisses on my neck. My knees go weak and it’s a good job he’s holding me up. His lips move towards my ear and he nibbles the lobe. I groan with pleasure, then he nips the lobe sharply, I yelp and try to move out of his arms, but he holds me tightly and whispers in my ear,
‘I said you had to be a good girl, no more sixes. You didn’t listen, did you?’
‘It wasn’t…’
‘Hush, I am talking, you will listen. I am going to make sure that if we are in the competition next week you will not get another six. You will not be a dirty little girl and lose us this competition. Now, bend over the sofa.’
Had I heard him right, if I had then I thought I knew what was coming next, me I hoped, I could feel my knickers getting damper by the second.
‘You are still being a naughty girl, I said bend over.’ Enrico turned me to face the back of the sofa and pushed gently between my shoulders to bend me forward. My forearms came to rest on the back and I placed my head on my crossed wrists.
Then I felt him fling the skirt of my dress up and over my back, the chiffon slipping and folding around my back. I could have died of shame when I remembered I wasn’t wearing one of my sexy thongs. Instead, I had on a pair of large skin tone Lycra knickers, recommended by wardrobe as the best to dance in. No knickers line, no chance of them falling down, no way they could ride up the crack of your arse and no damn sex appeal. Still Enrico didn’t seem to mind. I could feel his hand stroke across the fabric as he caressed first one cheek and then the other. His fingers kneaded my flesh sending ripples through my love tube and I could feel my clit waking up and rearing to go. His hands continued kneading the flesh and I moaned with pleasure; it felt good through the tight Lycra fabric. His fingers slid down the fabric making a grove down the crack of my arse but wardrobe was right they didn’t ride up, mores the pity. His fingers slipped between my legs and stroked the wet gusset. A resounding slap on my right cheek startled me more than hurt.
‘How dare you come without my permission, you have no self-control. I will teach you some manners.’ His hand came down again still not too hard and I wriggled my bottom a little to let him know it was okay. The slaps came one after the other now, I could feel the heat in both sets of cheeks and the slaps seemed to be getting a little harder. Just when I thought they were hard enough, he stopped and began stoking my arse cheeks again. Kneading the flesh and rubbing the Lycra fabric until his fingers were slipping back between my legs and searching out my clit. He rubbed it gently in a circular motion until I could feel my juices flowing and soaking the knickers. Enrico’s palm lay against my pussy lips grinding them gently and he felt the warm cum as it soaked through the Lycra and onto his hand.
He stopped what he was doing and from the corner of my eye I saw him walk around the room, I was going to stand up but he said, ‘Don’t you move. I have warned you about being a dirty girl and you still came without asking me. Now I think it is time I taught you a proper lesson.’
My knees quivered at his words. I should walk out now, but I didn’t want to. I wanted him to make me into a good girl and I didn’t care how he did it just so long as it ended up with his cock in my pussy.
When Enrico came back, he stood behind me and I felt his hands spread out across the cheeks of my arse. It was sore from his spanking and felt hot under his hands. His fingers gripped the waistband and pulled my knickers down over the mound of my burning arse and I could feel their dampness as they slid down my legs. When Enrico told me to step out of them, I did.
‘Now, I want you to bend further down over the sofa. I want your arse sticking up in the air so I can give it what it deserves.’
 He pushed me forward until my arms and head rested on the cushioned seat of the sofa. I was right, the bra wasn’t any good if you were upside down and my tits tumbled out, my nipples rubbing against the cracked rough leather of the sofa. My toes were barely touching the ground on the other side and Enrico nudged my legs apart with his knee and then stood back to survey his work. I knew he could see my pussy in all its wet, glistening glory as it begged for him to take it. I also knew he could see into the crack of my arse, nothing hidden; I was wide open to his view.
My arse still tingled from Enrico’s slaps, now I hoped he was going to concentrate on satisfying a desperate woman. I saw him move to stand at one side of me, then he spanked me again, and again, his hand came down hard and sharp, not like earlier. I couldn’t help squealing. He hit the left cheek and then the right; I could feel the pain radiate out red-hot and I squirmed to move from his insistent slaps.
‘No,’ he slapped harder sending a thrill of tension through me that exploded deep in my pussy. I bit down hard on my bottom lip and tried to stifle the cry. ‘Be still, this will be a good lesson for you.’ His slight Italian accent gave his voice a sexy tone and I curled my toes as he slapped my arse again, the cheeks glowing with the heat.
‘You will learn to listen to me, won’t you?’
I nodded and then realised he was waiting for me to answer him. ‘Yes.’ I managed, with a dry throat, the sound pathetic and childish. He slapped me again and again. I tried to anticipate the slaps so I could clench my cheeks against the pain, but he was clever, he didn’t keep to a rhythmic pattern. The more I tried to out smart him the harder came the slaps.
‘Your pretty little arse is like the setting sun, scarlet, magnificent,’ he said as he slapped me again.
The pain was turning into fire and the heat was warming through to my pussy. I could feel myself getting wetter as my juices began to flow. He slapped me on the right cheek, it stung and then on the left very quickly, catching me off guard. The muscles in my pussy began to quiver and I knew if he carried on I’d come. I could feel my juice drip down the inside of my legs and run towards the lacy tops of my stockings. Unfortunately so could Enrico.
‘I told you not to come until I said. You deserve your punishment.’ He turned to look at me and I looked up at him. At some point, he’d removed his shirt and his torso glistened with sweat. Raising his hands he held what looked like an old school cane, he held one end in each hand and flexed the length of rod so I could see it.
‘No, please, not that,’ I said and tried to stand up.
The cane came down sharp across both cheeks and I gasped with the pain. The shock made me collapse back down onto the seat of the sofa and I could feel tears trickle from my eyes.
‘Now, we will begin your punishment, we have had three sixes and that adds up to eighteen, yes?’ he asked.
I couldn’t speak. My bottom throbbed with pain. I wanted to cup my arse with my hands to protect it, but I knew that would anger Enrico.
Another sharp crack of the cane across my thighs made me leap forward pushing my swollen pussy against the hard leather on the back of the sofa and I cried out in pain and pleasure.
‘Does it make eighteen?’ he asked again and this time I answered, it did. The pain was exquisite and scary. ‘Good, then we shall begin. I will cane you and you will count each one out loud, maybe then you will not forget to keep count when we dance. Are you ready?’
I nodded and then remembered he wouldn’t see me, ‘Yes, yes I’m ready.’
‘Good girl, then we shall begin,’ he brought the cane down hard on my right cheek and I let out a yell, but remembered to count one. Then he brought the cane down on my left cheek and again I cried out, but counted two, and so it went on, each whip of the cane landed on a slightly different area and at some point, I wondered what my arse would look like in the morning.
Enrico whipped me and I counted, not daring to miss one. If I did, it would mean starting again and I’m not that stupid. The sharp whip as the cane contacted with my soft flesh sent one after another of orgasmic waves through my pussy. I knew I wasn’t to come, not without Enrico’s permission. Biting my bottom lip, I clawed at the sofa and desperately fought against the need to close my legs to stop the convulsions running up my love tube before they made me come.
Another whip from the cane, ‘Sixteen, please.’ The cane came down across the crease where my legs joined my arse, ‘Seventeen, please, I need to come, I need it so bad.’ Another crack, ‘Eighteen.’ My knees almost gave way with the relief my punishment was over and the desire to come. ‘I really need to come, please.’ Now I was crying properly, not with pain, it was too nice for that, but with the frustration of not being able to choose when I come.
I felt Enrico move in close behind me and then he was thrusting his cock into my pussy, I cried out louder than I had when he caned me and pushed back against him, grinding my hips into his, the pain from my arse cheeks competing with the waves of pleasure that now took over my pussy.
‘Now you can come like a good girl,’ Enrico said, and I felt him reach his climax at the same time as me. I came in huge rolling waves of pleasure, my love tube gripping his cock and pumping out every last bit of his cum. Sated, my body flopped like a rag doll. Enrico reached down and gently stroked my exposed tits, pinching my nipples and tweaking them into hard bullets.
‘Are you ready to face your public?’ Enrico asked as he lifted himself off me and gently helped me to slide back over the sofa until my feet were once more firmly on the ground. I didn’t think my legs would hold me upright and as my dress slid back down into place, it brushed my burning arse and sent a shiver of delight through me.
‘I’m not sure, how do I look?’ I asked trying to get my tits back into my bra and straighten my hair.
‘You look magnificent, my darling, truly magnificent.’ Then he kissed me properly. Not a peck like when we danced, but properly, passionately, and I clung to him. Afraid to let him go, blushing with the memory of what had just happened.
When we had made ourselves respectable Enrico took my hand and guided me to the door. Before we left Enrico looked around the room and there on the floor were my knickers.
‘You have forgotten something, my darling,’ he said pointing at them.
‘I couldn’t put them on, Enrico. It would be just too painful.’
Enrico ran his hand down my skirt and caressed my still flaming cheeks with a gentle touch. ‘I thought I had cured you of being a dirty girl, but maybe not yet,’ he said slapping my sore arse through the material. I yelped and headed out into the corridor quickly, telling him we would be late for the announcement of the votes. He laughed and followed me up to the dance floor.
The others had already gathered, waiting to go out and hear their fates. We got a few knowing looks and I wondered what they would say if they knew the truth. The orchestra struck up and we all went out to stand before the judges and learn which couple would be leaving the competition. My heart flipped a summersault when it wasn’t us. We were going to dance again, now all I had to do was make sure we got another six in next weeks scores.


2009 Chris Williams All rights reserved except as otherwise stated. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental