Category Archives: M/f

Erotica; Messed Up (Part 1)

Messed Up, (part 1)
“I want you done up to the nines. The car will be here at six.” She set her tablet on the table and blinked, holding out both her hands, palms up. He rested a black American Express card in one, and the keys to the car in the other. “I called Beth last week and set up the appointment for eleven.” He held her firmly by her chin and pressed his lips tightly to hers. 

Beth was her hairstylist and salon owner friend. She already knew this wasn’t just her hair getting styled, it was going to be an all-day deal. Waxed, polished, buffed, trimmed, colored and styled. Whole body, hair, nails and everything in between. When Sir wanted her coiffed, it meant he had plans to mess her up. The thought made her belly clench and dampness to reveal itself between her thighs. 

She returned his kiss with a moan and gentle swipe of hand up his fly. He was already hardening, probably at the thought of what he intended for their evening. He gave her a chin bump and sent her on her way, calling after, “Down do, Charity, nothing with lots of pins.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“Oh, and there is a new dress for you upstairs when you get home.” 

She grinned, and felt like curtsying, but only blew him a kiss and was on her way. She arrived ten minutes early and found a parking place right up front. Beth greeted her with a hug and a small squeal. Besides being her esthetician, Beth was also her confidant, and knew almost all the details of her relationship with, Sir. 

They proceeded with the various spa treatments and finished with her hair. Beth even commented that there wasn’t one mark or bruise on her body, which was odd. Sir, normally left marks on a regular basis as a sign of ownership, but he’d been particularly careful the last few times they’d made love. They lived the lifestyle twenty-four-seven, but it wasn’t as pain-filled as most would imagine. Love making without pain was more often the norm between them now that they’d established a good balance. 

Sir called it, 51/49, with him of course being the fifty-one. Together they were more powerful than apart, and they balanced the other perfectly. She could absorb his overflow and mirror him like no other ever had, and in return he brought her numb body to life. Before Sir found her, courted her, and then won her over, she’d never had an orgasm, and sex had been a dull to sometimes painful experience. He however had unlocked her inner tigress and solved the riddle of her masochistic body. Granted, she took some time to warm up to the inflictions, but once he’d shown her the amount of available ecstasy he could offer, she’d jumped on board with both feet. 

Sir was a dominant sadist, but a sane one, and oddly enough, she’d call him a kind and gentle master even though he hurt her skin on a regular basis. He was never overtly cruel or uncaring and whenever he needed to feed his inner beast, she was happy to accommodate almost any of his particular craves. He always stopped the instant she said it was too much, and he’d not once betrayed that trust. And now, after five years together, they danced the dance from memory and rarely disagreed; their harmony, peace and contentment as a couple was something a Buddhist monk would envy; apart from the fact all their focus was directed at the pleasure of the other, and sexual satisfaction was their end game. 

Charity left the salon at four and rushed home. All she needed to do was change. Beth had even done her makeup, and she looked amazing. Her red hair was down and curled into big, bouncy curls that dangled between her shoulder blades with little tendrils of curls framing her face. She couldn’t wait to see the dress. Sir had amazing tastes and she knew she’d love it. He had a better eye than she did for fashion and what would look the best on her body. 

As she applied a few finishing touches, he appeared in the doorway to the master suite. A stunning pair of stilettos dangling from his right hand. “You are the most beautiful woman on the planet.” 

She blushed and padded barefoot across the plush carpet. “It’s perfect,” She breathed as she took one slow turn so he could see her bared back. The dress had an elaborate strap system around her upper chest but draped in a long, skin exposing cowl down both the front and back, exposing more than enough of her ivory skin to leave hardly anything to the imagination. 

First he handed her the shoes, and then he produced a long velvet box. “Shoes first.” He said as he took a knee to help her fasten the buckles. The ankle straps had tiny gold padlocks and he chuckled after he’d fastened both and stowed the key in his pants pocket. Now she stood taller and her nose was right at his jaw. “Okay…” he presented her with the black velvet box that was oddly heavy. 

She popped it open with an exhale of emotion. The collar that nestled inside was stunning. Black pebbled leather with little sapphires to match her blue dress. There was a large ring in the front, and a silver buckle in the back. She lifted her hair and he buckled it around her throat, checking to make sure it wasn’t too tight, but tight enough it felt like his hand on her neck. The leather was soft, and warmed immediately to her skin until it truly felt like him holding her most vulnerable place. 

“Now, bend over the bed princess.”

Her chest heaved in anticipation, but she did as asked and carefully positioned her upper body across their very tall four poster bed. He went to his cabinet, and in the far mirror she saw him produce the wide leather paddle. Undoubtedly he just wanted to redden her bottom and make it sore enough she felt him even if he didn’t touch her again the rest of the night. 

“Count. Ten each.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

Before he started, he carefully pulled her dress up and settled it under, and above her waist. As per protocol, she only wore garters for her thigh high stockings, and no underwear. She was entirely bared to him in this moment. He petted her bottom and massaged it, lightly spanking it with his hand and making it jiggle. Next he delved a finger between her legs, up through her cleft, and his sound of approval showed he found her wet and ready. 

He lingered there, petting and stroking her damp folds, and gently rubbing her clit until she moaned and arched her back. He seemed to have forgotten about the paddle and was now spreading out all her serum, as the rubbing increased. Without warning, he inserted his middle finger, his incredibly meaty, long middle finger, and she almost orgasmed. She held herself in check however, knowing she had to have permission to cum. 

One of things that always surprised, and equally aroused her, was Sir’s appetite for her body. Often he would alter his plans just to fuck her. It was always a quick, although highly satisfy dip into her puddle of acceptance, but it was obviously also something he’d thought to forestall. The thing about Sir though was simply his sexual appetite knew no bounds, and no doubt, after piercing her now, he’d again during the evening, maybe more than once. 

His suit slack zipper sounded behind her and she looked up to see him in the mirror, at her back, fondling himself, spreading out his pre-cum as he massaged the tip of his erection. He was always so hard it continually amazed her. She grew even wetter and whimpered as he spread her with two thumbs on her slick folds. He slid in just the tip, and settle there to continue petting her bottom and randomly spanking it playfully. 

His voice was full of amusement, “Slight change of plans kitten, but you know how much I love inside.” 

He rolled his hips and settled himself to the base, and then he reached around her hip and gripped her mound. His hand enveloped her entire fleshy mound and he dug in his fingers, making sure to catch her clit with his middle finger. She whimpered again and pushed her bottom into his groin, trying to get away from some of the biting pressure on her freshly waxed flesh. There was no getting away from Sir though, he was a big man and a strong man and he relished it when she tried, so she always did, but never managed to lessen the intensity even by a little. 

He held on and then he began sliding on all her lubrication. He took his time, retreating to the bulging helmet and then thrusting back to home. His balls bounced against her folds and his grip tightened on her front. She let go a small scream as her body shot into high gear. His pounding increased until there was a volley of wet slaps echoing around the room. 

“Oh god—Sir, Sir, please…Ahhhhh…please may I cum?” 

“Not yet…” He grunted, thrusting himself harder and harder into her. His thumb dexterously pressed her clit tight against her pubic bone and she almost lost it. 

“Pleeeeeessse!” She keened. 

His shaft grew hotter and his thrusts slowed, “Now kitten. Now cum for me.” He commanded just as his molten release rocketed up into her core. 
She was now his well-tuned instrument and her body obeyed with alacrity. Her pussy twitched along with her other sphincter muscles and she cried out as her sheath tightened around his still throbbing cock. 

When he popped free of her body, he pulled along their joined fluids and trailed the head of his still dripping cock up through her ass crack. He teased at that other entrance and while still hard, seated his tip just inside her body. 

“Later.” He growled, but stayed here, both of them still twitching. 

Before she stood, he pulled out his favorite jeweled butt plug from the night stand drawer. First he inserted it up into her soaked pussy, and then he slowly inserted it into her bottom. The action caused ripples of aftershocks to rattle through her and she gasped. 

“Stay put. I got distracted. You still need to be reddened. I want you feeling me all night. And leave me in you, I want to decorate your inner thighs. I want you to smell me on you at dinner.” 

He then went to work on her bottom with the paddle, and she counted. Ten on the left cheek with some muscle behind the swings so she was already feeling the sting and ache and knew there would be some significant bruises by morning. Ten more on the right cheek and tears were running down her face, ruining her makeup. She sniffed and with help, resumed an upright position, teetering on the heels, but managing to keep it together. 

He inspected her and used a thumb to swipe at some of the lingering tears. “Getting there,” He grumbled. 

She didn’t even ask to check her reflection in the mirror. This was part of the dance with Sir. He just loved messing her up. Something about her spending an entire day getting ready just so he could fuck it all up was his ideal of a perfect night out. And, if by the time they were out in public, she was already fuck/spank/bit/manhandled-worn around the edges, he was his most happy.

Her hair was still in the delicate braid across the top, but that for sure would be demolished before nights end. He put out his elbow and escorted her to the waiting limo. She knew better than to ask where they were going. It could be anywhere in the world, or nowhere at all. 

They might just spend a couple hours in the limo, doing depraved things behind the tinted glass. Sir was predictably unpredictable and it was guaranteed she would look as if caught in the perfect storm by the end of the evening.

~Too be Continued.

Payne Hawthorne

Book Excerpt; The Elysian, Chapter 37

The Elysian, (excerpt).

This is the next title I’d dearly love to produce as an audio book. The cost will be roughly $2000.00. You can help me achieve this goal by contributing here: PATREON or here: PATRONAGE

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Chapter THIRTY SEVEN
   It’s around dawn the next morning, and we are pretzeled together. During the night, I woke a few times and made sure some part of me was touching him, and I felt him do the same. It was as if we had to make sure the other was still there, and this whole freakish joining wasn’t just a dream. 
   I kissed his shoulder and he picked up my hand and kissed the inside of my palm. It was a tender kiss and his warm lips sent goose bumps up my arm. “You are a sensitive thing,” he says. 
   “Only to some, to others I seem as dull as a rock. It takes a certain vibration from another, and then I am so alive I can hardly stand it.” 
   “Ahhh, a catalyst?” He questions. 
   I think about it and slowly nod, “Yeah, I guess that’s as good of an explanation as any. I’ve had about twenty different mates, many more lovers. I can fuck just fine even if I’m not in love, although it leaves me feeling really cold and hollow. You know the worst of it? I often feel so dead I go out and find sex. It’s meaningless sex of course, and I do it in hopes of feeling something…”
   “Feeling anything,” he interrupts as he finishes my thought, agreeing with me, “And what started out as a need to feel, ends up in making you feel more alone and empty than when you started.”
   “Exactly! You’d think I’d learn by now, but no…”
   “It’s how you’re made Ellie –created to please. You feel alive when you’re found satisfying to another –of course that’s your – go to,” he again interrupted, then added, “I’ve done it many times –many – many – many times –life is just too hard when you go it alone for too long. For me its connection to something else living –which you know the horses really do help satisfy because they are so sentient –but for you it’s an innate need you have no control over –Elysian females are supposedly created for a specific man –you might be the only woman of your kind to be a free agent.” 
   I wrinkle my nose and wiggle it, “What are the odds?”
   He taps my chin lightly and grins, “I can tell you a few things I know –I actually used to kind of be a fan of your people.” 
   “A fan? What does that mean?” I question.
   “Well, ever since good ole dad told me about the single minded devotion of an Elysian female, I wanted one, so I kinda turned it into a bit of a hobby. Mind you, I was just a fledgling –youngster –hadn’t even learned how to fly yet –but I learned a lot about your kind.” 
   My expression was more than amused and I turned on my side with my head on my hand and winked at him, “Do tell.” 
   He flopped onto his back and spoke to the ceiling, “Let’s see what I can recall. Pointed ears –in your natural state you have small ears with pointy tips.” 
   “Like elves?” 
   He nods, “Yup, like elves. You’re a tall species, leggy,” He dashed a look at me and chomped his teeth, “Love those long legs, and that perfect ass of yours!” I giggled and he reached over and touched my hand, still talking to the ceiling, “Feathers. I knew for sure when I saw that artwork,” He motioned toward the living room and then rested his hand back on mine. “Your world is devoid of birds. Not one on the whole planet. Your people are fascinated with feathers. Consider them as rare and collectable as earthlings feel about gemstones.” His eyes took on a faraway expression and I eagerly listened.  
   Most of my memories were surrounding the mission and the experiment and very little had filtered through of my first life and the customs and rituals of my people. “Your people like a lot of pomp and circumstance, like to show off their wealth. Whenever they have banquets or parties, they decorate themselves with feathers. The women will pale out most of their faces, even pale lipstick, so all you can see are the masks they wear. Usually half face, but always made from feathers of different colors, or if they are high born they wear Hogedon feathers –that’s my race –always black or the same dark navy as my hair. Only our wing feathers, and only from a full grown adult, are tipped in that same silver as you saw on my wings.” He nodded as he recalled, “We must have limited the supply, wish I could remember –but yeah, incredibly rare indeed.”
   I make a sound of amazement and grin, “That explains a lot. I’ve always been fascinated with birds of all kinds. Is that ironic or what?”
   “You mean because I am one?” He asked. 
   “Yeah, exactly!” I confirmed. 
   “My people often traded with yours –we would offer feathers and quills from our adults and down and fluff from the fledglings. You’d be surprised what kind of commodity they can be when your planet has not one avian species.” He turned his head and caught my eye, “A feather from my adult plumage would be considered one of the greatest gifts offered. Just so you know.” He winked and resumed talking to the ceiling. I was thinking about my fascination with feathers and birds, as more puzzle pieces slid into place. “So darlin, if I ever give you one of my plumes, it means you are very special to me. Not only would I have to manifest my wings, which I don’t do very often, but I’d have to inflict a wound that would take months to regenerate.”
   “I have it in storage, but you’d be shocked to see my mask collection.” I say victoriously. Then add, “If you ever gave me one of your feathers I would cherish it beyond any other –I’d consider it one of my greatest possessions.” I declare. Then I ask, “Do your people mate outside of your race?” 
   He grinned and asked, “The masks—all feathers?” 
   I nod and lift one eyebrow, “What are the odds? Right?”
   He answers my question, “Rarely, but yeah, it happens. We’re a passionate species. Much more so than your people.” 
   “What do you mean?” 
   He chuckled, “When I first saw Star Trek, I thought they modeled Spock after Elysians’ and Kirk after Taninians’. Polar opposites –one is intellectual and all mind, the other is all heart and emotions.”
   I nibbled my lower lip in thought before answering, “I’ve changed though –I’ve grown feelings –emotions –I feel everything deeper than I remember feeling before.” 
   Iain turned again to face me and he cupped my jaw, “You darlin are the most unique entity in all the galaxies –I can’t believe we found each other.” He kisses each of my fingertips, “I could devour all of you. I haven’t felt this way about a woman ever. You and me baby, damn we’re good together.” 
   “We are each other’s catalyst maybe?” I say in a tiny voice, thinking about how odd it is to be with another stranded alien. 
   He reads my thoughts and asks, “I been meaning to ask you, are you stranded or are they extracting you at some point?” 
   I grimace, “I think I’m supposed to be here for two thousand years, so that gives me a handful over seven hundred more to go.” 
   He is silent for so long I think he has nothing more to say on the matter. When he does speak I momentarily jump at his voice. He hugs me in tighter, “Sorry darlin, I was thinking about leaving with you –I was so resigned to my fate –so certain there was no escape for me, I refused to let myself consider it.” 
   “And now?” I ask
   He bends his head down and grins at me, “Well my sweet little sex toy, seven hundred years is a long time. If you’ve not grown bored with me and we’re still together, I’ll consider it.” 
   “You know I’m not sure the mission is even on track anymore. I think both Gabriel and Doyle are either locked up in a Fae sithen or they don’t know they are, and time is speeding by out here –whatever it is, I think Doyle lost control –so I really have no clue. I’m trying to live as if this is my existence and there is no extraction –ever.” 
   
   He nods and hugs me tighter, dragging most of my body up onto his chest. My breasts push against his hard pecks and he palms my ass, jiggling me and rubbing himself against my belly, “You know what sweet cheeks?” 
   “What? My holy hardness.” 
   “Who really cares if we get to leave or not? Right now, in this moment, with you, I would trade an eternity of adventure to stay here – so fuck em all!” He announces. 
   I bite my lip and nod in thought, “You know what bird boy? I would agree one hundred percent –fuck em all!”
   We laugh and roll around in the bed, and play seduction and tease as he grows rigid and I grow wet and slick. I groan and roll away, “I can’t right now, even if my body is telling you, yes, –it’s a fucking liar! I don’t want too –not yet –you’re so big and I’m really sore. Can we just lay together? Can you be hard and me wet and nothing happen?”
   His hand reaches between my legs and he grumbles out his need, “Ahhh babe –maybe it’s your brain that’s the liar? Your sweet little cunt seems more than eager.” 
   I hear him lick his fingers after his quick, internal delve, and his sounds of pure delight momentarily give me pause. He is entirely correct, I would suffer if it meant pleasing my partner. That old familiar question rises up inside, is it good or bad that I would suffer to please him?
   “It’s neither lover, it’s you.” He says in response to my unspoken thoughts. I sigh, but say nothing. I am also completely okay with his intrusion into my private mind, that too is part of his penetration into my being, and I like it. My thoughts prompted a question from him, “You’re empathic then? No telepathy?”
   “I can feel your emotional grid, but only if you let me. You are the most powerful person I’ve been around since, Doyle, in Iceland. But yeah, I feel you baby! But no, it’s rare for me to hear words –again though, I did with Doyle. And a few times I think I’ve heard your thoughts.” I honestly reply.
   I feel him nod as he rubs my back. My hair has lifted and twined itself entirely around any part of him it can reach, which he told me he loves. He offers, “I’m both –empathic and telepathic –and! If I really work at it I can implant thoughts at a subconscious level –I’m out of practice though, I don’t work that psychic muscle too much, unless I’m with the horses, but they are so receptive it really takes nothing.” 
   I offer a sound of agreement. “I went so long I thought I’d lost even the empathic ability. I swear I’ve gone through phases where I wondered if I was entirely human –nothing special here people, move it along.” 
   “It’s a fetal race babe, and I hate how the lowest common denominator always wins. Don’t let the turkeys tell you, you are anything but an eagle –I know though –its very tuff here to feel anything but average.” 
   I giggle at the irony of his words and mumble, “And you are an eagle. A silver, raven haired, glowing alien raptor.”
 
Excerpt from THE ELYSIAN 
The adventures and loves of Faith Elysian. An immortal alien trapped on Earth for twelve hundred years. 

This is the next title I'm hoping to make into an Audio book. Please see my PATREON and PATRONAGE pages for info on helping me achieve this goal. 

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  “I noticed you still have your panties on, would you please remove them for me?”
  Gulp, how did I know that would be a request? Blink, pause. Okay fine, it’s just my fear I will get the chair wet, I swear! My body is in some kind of strange overdrive with the lubrication. I feel as if my pussy is a fan girl, screaming and jumping up and down, begging for–him–to see her and make eye contact or something. Oh, it’s also weeping tears of joy at being so near –him.
  I carefully remove said panties and wonder what to do with them. He puts his hand across the table, palm up. Yes they are quite damp, I guess you could call it, damp with my need? Sigh, now I sound like a fucking romance novel. Okay, here ya go big guy, have at it. So glad they were a good pair, actually a really nice lace pair in the palest pink. 
  Something about his big hand and the way he delicately wraps his fingers around all that lace, sends shivers up and down my spine. I want that hand to touch me, my skin, my body and I want him to put those long fingers other places.
  His thumb finds where the cotton is wet. He rubs over that spot a few more times and his eyes find mine, and they fucking sparkle and burst into flames again. Swallow. Did he just tremble? Did his composure crack just a little?   
  Why does this delight me so much? His hand is still caressing my panties and softly kneading them around in his huge fist, and I just realized how big his wrists are, like wow. Can’t wait to see his forearms, I love good forearms and I know his must be magnificent. Sigh. 
  “Dillon.” His voice is so full of need I again puddle where I sit. Fuck my body, stop-it already. 
  “Yes?” 
  “Nothing, I was just enjoying saying your name.” 
  Oh smack! That was about the most stimulating thing anyone’s ever said to me. Again with the rapid blinking, and now I can’t even think, let alone form coherent words. Blink-blink-blink. Also, there is the crimson burning in my cheeks. 
  “I would like you to sit over here.” He motioned to the seat across the aisle from him, the seat with a full view of whomever would be the occupant, not the seat where I am now, with the protection of the table between us. “And I need you to sit so I may see all of you.” 
  I nod, after more blinking, I wobble on these fucking high heels and smooth my skirt, and sort of stumble and fall into the other chair. I swivel it so my knees are facing him. My pinned together knees, which are also shaking. 
  “Touch yourself.” 
  No surprise, I knew this was coming, ahem, maybe wrong word, coming. I might be, coming any second now; the clenching and twitching in my nether regions is reaching a near orchestral frenzy. Okay, spread knees, swivel chair for better viewing pleasure, drag skirt up my thighs. God I love this fabric. Make him wait, move slowly, wait, wait. His eyes are on me, ME, my most hidden parts, and he can’t seem to stop looking. This makes me happy. I’ve been told I have a beautiful pussy.
  I am fair haired all over my body, strawberry blonde to be exact, and I keep a nice, well-manicured playground, but I do leave a strip of red-blonde curls just to show my carpet matches my drapes. Why does it give me so much satisfaction to see him swallow convulsively? 
  I can feel how swollen I already am, so much blood has been rushing down there I must be bright pink at this point, but I also know men love this. He is still staring, and from where I sit I can see the effect I have on his body as well. This makes me happy. Like fucking beside myself delighted. I love being paid that kind of compliment. 
  Something about it is a total power trip too, and honestly, even though I am a sub in most respects, I can get off in a big way just from my guy losing it, and uncontrollably needing to enter my body. If a man does that with me, I will climax the second his hands touch me and he shows he’s given in and abandoned all rational thought...

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