Happy 2021, readers! I am hoping the new year has brought you some cheer. I have been writing, though not much of it publicly as of late. (Although there was “Tiger Balm,” a brief micro-erotica series on Twitter that I may or may not continue). In a poll I asked what I ought to work on next, and the Cole/Laura/Steve edged out the other works in the last hours of the poll. So I did turn my attention to my favorite ménage à trois and I will share a bit of the new stuff in this issue.
Before I get to that, I have a small ask: If you’ve been enjoying my books, it would be lovely if you might consider leaving a review on Goodreads, Amazon or Smashwords. Thank you!
What I’m working on: My collection of short stories, which I know is not a new update at this point, but it’s the closest to “completion.” I am also writing a bonus scene from Tales of Ownership between Chouchou and her best friend, Sabine. You could consider it an epilogue. This will only be made available to my newsletter subscribers.
Excerpt from Cole/Laura/Steve’s story [MM/f]
Eventually, conditions improved as the positivity rates dropped. When the shelter in place order was lifted, they began to venture outside more frequently, and Laura quickly learned that while the government’s restrictions over its citizens might have eased, her Masters’ dominion over her did not return to pre-pandemic normalcy.
Steve made her keep a pacifier in her mouth under the face mask. It wasn’t strapped around her head; she had to hold it in her mouth under her own steam and self-control. These days, she found herself sucking on the rubber nipple, sometimes swallowing convulsively at the elongated teat. Initially when she’d been adjusting to its insertion, she’d chewed nervously on it, but then Steve had punished her assiduously when he saw teeth marks in the rubber to make her quit the bad habit.
It had been a horrible, humiliating punishment. Not only had he soundly roasted her ass, but he’d put her on a liquid, soft diet. For a week Laura had ingested only mushy pap that was nutritious but bland. It could hardly be called food, in her opinion. Steve and Cole were both fans of protein shakes and other healthy but disgusting mixes they whipped up in their exorbitantly high-end blender. For a week, they’d given Laura only meals that she could swallow without having to chew. She’d drink it from a bottle with a fat straw, or lap it up with her tongue from a dish on the floor. And after the unappetizing portion was consumed, Steve had her stand with her hands laced behind her head and keep her mouth open while he laid into her bottom with the metal ruler, while he thrust his fingers into her mouth. Gagging was okay, but letting him feel her teeth was not.
“What is this hole for?” Steve would demand as he slid his fingers in and out of Laura’s mouth.
“My mouth is for sucking and swallowing, not biting,” Laura garbled, tears streaming from her eyes.
“That’s right, slave,” Steve said harshly. “That’s what this mouth is good for, and don’t you forget it. Now I want to hear you repeat it until I stop spanking you.”
“My mouth is for sucking and s-swallowing, not biting...ughhn...my mouth is for—ah! Ow! Ow! My mouth is for sucking and swallowing, not bitingahh!” she screamed.
“‘My’ mouth? Or this mouth?”
“This mouth. This slave’s mouth. Your mouth. Yours, yours, yours, all yours, Master…” Laura babbled, her words ringing out in a sweet refrain, and it was like music to their ears; Steve’s eyes met Cole’s and they both recognized the rightness of it, the universal law of it, and Steve’s arm rose and fell over and over again to make their slave sing this song out again and again.
When the punishment was over, they took turns having their slave as thoroughly as possible, dominating her ruthlessly, to stamp that song of truth into her forever. They used her roughly, in a fever to have her. Slapping her soft flesh to urge her to move the way they wanted, or otherwise just manhandling her into position to receive their lusts.
Nowadays when one or both of them accompanied Laura outside the apartment, she was always wearing the pacifier under her mask. Being mute made her more docile and deferential.
One afternoon, when the weather alternated between a misting and light rain, Cole decided to take Laura outside for a run. He told her to go put on workout clothes.
When her round breasts were encased in a sports bra, he tugged the stretchy fabric down and sucked her nipples and nibbled at them until they gleamed wet and dusky, like juicy berries, tender and ripe to the touch. He clamped them, and tied the ends of the clamps off to the handle of her pacifier. He kissed around her mouth over the clear mouth shield, licking the hard plastic and grinding his erection into Laura’s belly while his hands squeezed her lush tits.
“Turn around,” Cole rasped. “You’re gonna get me off. There’s no way I can run with this hard-on.”
He yanked his own shorts down until his erection bobbed in the air. Peeling Laura’s tight running shorts down her peach of an ass, he palmed her bottom and groaned. Laura’s moan rose in volume to meet his rough, eager sounds. He smacked her ass and jiggled the globes in his hands. He slid his cock against the seam of her wet sex, coating himself in her slickness. Sinking his fingers into her bottom cheeks, he spread her generous ass and tucked his dick into this deep cleft.
“Don’t drop your paci, Laur,” Cole reminded her. “Don’t you be biting it either. Just give it good, hard sucks like you do when my cock’s in there. I want you pulling on your tits real nice now. Keep your chin up.”
Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked hard at the pacifier to keep it in her mouth as she raised her chin. The twine connecting the pacifier to her nipple clamps tautened.
What I’m listening to: Sampling songs from the Bondage Jukebox.
What I’m reading: Have you read Adrian Hunter’s work? He was one of the first writers of bondage and domination stories that I ever read. I am uncertain if this is his official site or not, but there you can read some of his classic stories, including “Out of Commission”, “Dismaid”, and “Chantilly Lace.” Few people wrote about bondage as adroitly as he did. I’ve been re-reading his stories. You have to read Crash Your Party Dress and Chain Reaction. Some stories are laced with humor, others are darker, but all are torrid, steamy and playful.