Category: Crimson Writ

Where my words give lie to the wolf under the skin.

Audible Candy for the Soul

You know what gets me off?

The sound of a woman who is being thoroughly fucked.

A woman who has been driven past the point of caring. A woman reduced to grunts and moans as a means of communication. Where every sound is elicited through a pounding need, a need so unrelenting it builds into a crescendo of cries that leaves her voice ragged. I get hard just thinking of it.

But I’ll take a woman in heat too, a woman whose seduction is deliberate, a woman who wants an audience as she strips herself bare. A woman with an intent to inspire who knows the husky promise of her words when the tangible weight of her desire makes her voice drowsy and hungry. The way her breath catches in surprise when she’s touched just right. The pause, the pause that tells me she’s reached the point of no return.

I love breathy moans and squeals of pleasure. I love shouts muffled by pillows and the sounds of fingers clawing at sheets. I love the sharp slapping echo of my hand meeting her ass and the low thump of a paddle on her thighs.

I want to hear the wet sounds of her when I press inside.

I want to hear her ass hitting my thighs when I take her from behind.

Yes.

That gets me off.

Warm Embrace

You will have your way, my eyes closed and head back, leaning forward to rest warm hands on your breasts, the thin fabric of your shirt, a tease, a layer that promises rather than protects your naked skin. Fingers find nipples, twist lightly, feel them harden against my palms.

You are fucked, taking me all the way into your mouth and throat as I press closer to the edge of the bed.

You are fucked, my body shivering against your touch. My hair falling across my face as I breath deeply.

You are fucked, and I grip your shoulders to steady myself as I slide between your warm lips.

You are fucked, and I am embraced.

Appropriate Office Behavior

Like the warm kiss on the side of your neck that makes your knees weak, we all have an image, an idea, that can have a similar affect. A mental erogenous zone, this scenario has a way gripping our imagination and not letting go until we’ve managed to get it out our system by indulging our baser desires. This idea colors everything and can make places or people we would not normally consider as erotic to become so when placed on the stage or our mind’s arena. It promises mischief and we are sometimes helpless within its grasp.

One of these ideas, for me, is misbehaving at the office. Throw in a few references to hard, dirty, sex, and…

***

03.05.03

Teri pages: well, file it away in the back of your dirty little mind.. Because it’s been way to long since I had a really good vicious beating. I would think that you’d appreciate the opportunity to have a run at my tender hide again ;) I could be a little slut for you, if you like. I’ve got this dress that stops high and some garters to go with my corset…. *g*. All you’d have to do is bend me over…

D’jaevle pages: And spank you? Whip you? Flog you? Fuck you?

From afar, Teri wouldn’t mind any of the above. Or all of the above. I have this lovely image of being bent over your desk in that outfit. Tell me, D’jaevle, how long has it been since you fucked a woman’s ass?

D’jaevle pages: It’s been a while.

Teri pages: Miss it?

D’jaevle pages: About as much as you probably miss having your ass beaten bright red.

Teri pages: Ooooh, that’s really saying something….There’s nothing quite like the feeling of being split open and violated over and over and over…

D’jaevle pages: With fingernails biting into skin or tweaking nipples hard enough to send sharp lines to your clit.

Teri pages: that could be alot of fun.. *g* A pair of nipple clamps does that job nicely…Mmmm… would you want to whip me? Or flog me? Or spank me? mmm? Run a knife across my back.. or my arms.. or my legs…drip a candle over all the delicate bits? mmm.. Oh the options of things to do… But I’ll be a little slut for you, and let you do anything you want to me..

D’jaevle pages: Anything?

Teri pages: Why, what did you have in mind?

D’jaevle pages: Let’s go back to that image of you dressed up and bent over my office desk.

Teri pages: It’s a shame you’re office isn’t more private. *g* Otherwise I might actually show up dressed as such…

D’jaevle grins. Promises, promises.

Teri pages: It’d be rather hard to sneak in….at least not until after midnight, and Rose knows me well enough to know when some thing’s up ;)

D’jaevle chuckles.

Teri pages: I see.. *grins* Tell me something… what do you feel when you press me against the wall and beat me?

D’jaevle arches a brow. Hunger. Power. Excitement.

Teri pages: mmmmmm…do you have any idea how turned on I am right now?

D’jaevle pages: Tell me.

Teri pages: I can feel my clit throbbing against the fabric of my underwear. Are you turned on?

D’jaevle pages: I would say so, yes. Enough to make me want to just bend you over the desk, draw your pants over hips….

Teri pages: Mmm. I’d have to bite my lip to keep from making a sound. I’m already dripping wet.

D’jaevle pages: Your breasts pressed to the hard surface while your ass rubs back against my fingers.

Teri pages: you’d like that, wouldn’t you… Or you could push me up against the wall…
Teri pages: Drop my pants..

D’jaevle pages: And?

Teri pages: fuck me in to the wall…hands squeezing breasts, body crushed against me…

D’jaevle smiles. Or one hand pressed around your neck, while the other finds your clit.

Teri pages: ooohhh…I like that one better. Nothing makes me cum harder than a hand squeezing my throat….

Where Words Meet Lips

I am the tiniest fracture born of sweet laughter.

Where words meet lips, journeying forth, there is a touching. I can hold this bit in my hand and let you see the world.

You ask of me the why, and how. I answer only with a story. Because in the end, perhaps you are right, perhaps a story is the finest accomplishment we have. For then we are not only immortal – we are purpose, we are entertainment, we are alive.

Not Enough

Close your eyes, find yourself at my front door. I open it for you, our eyes meet, a flash of recognition between strangers. Upstairs, you follow to my study.

A closed door, and strong hands settle around your waist. Warm breath tickles the back of your neck, hands follow the lines of your thighs down as they reach for the edge of your skirt, drawing them up over skin.

Can you see it? Are your hands with mine, sliding along the front of your thighs?

Exposed, vulnerable, you press back against the shelter of my arms, back against me hard enough to feel me resting against your ass. My knee parts the back of thighs, spreading them just far enough for my hands to delve deeper, a flat palm pressing down with deliberate patience, feeling your heat against my fingers. The other is on your blouse, under it, fingers finding the curve of breasts, enjoying their weight, their promise.

Fingers circle nipples slowly, tugging gently to remind you of the tension, plucking lightly at the lines between nipples and clit. “Such a good girl.” My words are so close, they are inside of you. With urgency, I draw your blouse off, quickly, letting it slip to the floor at your feet.

Can you feel it? Your hands on breasts, knowing my touch, knowing my need?

Not enough.

I slip fingers between panties and bared lips, smooth and slick, “Yes.” Inside, two deep, feeling you well against them, sucking greedily as I slip them in and out. Fingers wet, I turn to face you, running them across the top of your breast. Leaning over, my words pressed into glistening skin, “I want to paint you with this…”

Reversals, part 2

The second half of her letter.

—

My hand continued its quiet journey into her sweater until I was rubbing her breast. Stroking and holding it, listening to her attempts to control her breathing as much as possible for me. I was careful to avoid her nipple. I waited until she was lulled into my rhythm of rubbing and then I grabbed her nipple hard. I enjoyed her cry and her body shaking as I held her. I rolled it around and pinched and held it until I knew I wanted more. I switched my hands shifted her so that I could begin with her other breast. I let her moans die first before I started again. I put my mouth close to her ear and when I started again, so gently, her small moans escaped her mouth. They were the only evidence of her protest. She knew what was coming this time and she was scared. I didn’t care. I wanted her reaction and I wanted to hold her breast tightly and roughly for as long as I needed.

I whispered in her ear, ‘You are mine, and you want this. Do not protest, pull away, or try to stop because it will hurt and I know you don’t that. Release your protest into me. Concentrate on my hand and your breathing and you will get what you want.’ I stopped speaking, continued playing with her breast, found her neck with my mouth. I kissed it, bit it. I sucked and pulled until I made her moan uncontrollably. My hand didn’t want her breast anymore, my teeth did. I laid her on the ground beside me and sucked and bit and tongued her breasts and nipples until they were raw and bruised.

I sat up and kept her in front of me. Her sweater was wide open now. I placed one hand between her breasts firmly, feeling her breath. The other hand danced lightly back and forth between her nipples. Her reaction at this point didn’t matter. I just liked the feel of them, so hot and hard. I didn’t resist my urge to lean down and kiss them gently, making sure to run my tongue across each one. I finally let her sit up.

When she was more steady, I spoke to her, ‘Take off all of your clothes. Yes, all of them. No, you won’t get cold, it is very warm in here just for you. Yes, someone might see you from the window. It is ok, I don’t mind.’

She undressed, uncertain. I warned her then. I was not going to be gentle. I wanted to feel her. I wanted her to feel me – but not without discomfort.

I laid her back down on her back. I whispered in her ear to keep her arms at her sides. I was lying on my side next to her and put my hand over the dark curly hair that covered everything I wanted to touch. Her legs were pressed so tightly together. I told her to separate her legs when she was ready. I told her my hand was ready and warm and would slip between her legs when she started moving. All she had to do is cross the line again. Let go again. Give all of herself to me. I pushed her down and my fingers pushed gently to get inside of her. I kissed her mouth and her sore nipples and her legs began to spread. She gave it up again. I did not disappoint her. I moved her legs apart and dug my fingers into her. Her heat and wetness were overwhelming. I spread her further and rubbed my fingers on her wet clit. Not beside it, but on top with the fat of my fingers. I had no desire to watch her cum before I did. Then I moved and pushed a finger inside…then two…then one again. She was so warm and wet.

I stopped. I gave her no recovery time. I made her stand help me up. It was my turn.

Morning Absolutions

The grey overcast sky leans heavily against the morning. You arrive early, before work, and you’re not quite sure why you’re at my front door.

You remember, the moment I open the door and lead you to the bedroom. Silence, to start, as you stand in front of the small windows, the silhouette of rain casting black beads against the wall. I slip off your coat and and slide one hand under your dress to catch on your panties, drawing them over hips to drop to your feet.

My fingers find your wrist and pull you to the bed. I lay back, guiding you to kneel over my waist. My eyes hold yours, unwavering. Fingers curl around the back of your thighs and I gather the dress up over your skin to your waist.

You know what I want. To taste. To make you shudder against me until I can claim you, one kiss at a time. You slide up my body, kneeling over my face, your eyes still on mine.

Lower. You feel the first touch of my tongue along your inner lips. I coax a gasp from you, the flat of my tongue starting just below your clit and down to the very edge of your ass.

Again. And again.

I tease.

Your thighs tense around my face, my hands find your cheeks, gripping your skin with warm palms. I guide you closer, my tongue now inside of you, tasting you, swallowing you whole as your hips rock forward, needing, incessant hunger pressing you down against me until you are fucking, rubbing. I can’t see you, but I feel your body swaying, your thighs clenching with each shudder and shift. You make love to my face until you come, hard, forced to throw one hand out against the wall for support.

Reversals, part 1

I once asked her to write a scene that placed her in a role other than that of the submissive.

Here, the first part of her letter.

—

How do you write about a scene?
(not the right question)

How do you write about a scene when you only know how to be submissive?
(Better!)

Try writing about your partner would do.
(Why? You are not him!)

Write about what you would like…
(Better!)

Try to write about how it would feel to receive someone doing the things that put you down…maybe not as hard as you get it now, but what put you down to start.
(Much better!)

Which direction do I go? Is this her first and my first, or no?
(Does it much matter?)

She entered the room. I was curled up on the couch reading. It was very warm and cozy…I had no desire to be uncomfortable. She looked good, just like I wanted; short skirt, long legs, and long brown hair. Her hair always drew me because of the contrast in color to mine. The colors would look so pretty intertwined today. She was quiet…she knew what I expected. We had discussed her attitude and presentation at great length. I enjoyed watching her stand and wait while her anticipation and desperation grew…

Caught in a moment of understanding, I told her to come to me. Kneel in front me, I told her. She did. I brought my feet out from under me on the couch, moved her back slightly, and knelt in front of her. Our proximity was very close and she breathed out when I leaned near her. I smiled. How sweet the sensation. I wanted more.

I used one of my hands to brush her hair from her face. Her eyes were downcast while I watched her intently. Her body language was so yielding. With my hand in her hair, I drew our faces close together, cheek to cheek, and held her there. My other hand gently stroked down her neck. It found the edge of her sweater loosely buttoned over her breasts. I felt her moan as I held her hair firmly and whispered for her to be quiet. It was distracting and she knew I needed to concentrate. I smiled to myself. Being quiet meant there was only one place for her to concentrate those feelings…inside. She had to internalize all of those feelings; it would only make her wetter when she did let it out. That in turn fed my hunger.