Tied Up By My Panties


This is a story I wrote via tweet over the last couple of weeks. I’ve tweaked and added a few things. If you like it, I’ve set up a tip jar over there on the sidebar. Do what feels right!

I wake up late for class, and grab the first pair of underwear at hand. A quick sniff test reveals two things. The panties aren’t clean and aren’t mine. The smell is amazing. I glance over at the sleeping form of my roommate. I know what she smells like. Now I want to taste her. I can’t let her know about my secret desire, but there is another option.

I lick the crotch of her underwear and my eyes roll back into my head. I’ve never slept with another woman before, but I’ve always dreamed about it. I suck on the delicate silk and lace of while I slide my underwear down to my thighs. I run my fingers up and down my wet slit and slip them inside. I thought I’d been quiet until I hear her say “I’ll need those back when you’re done. They aren’t mine, exactly.”

Panic grips my heart and I stop what I’m doing.

“Oh, you don’t have to stop.” I hear her get out of bed and cross over to me. She removes the panties from my mouth and replaces it with her hot tongue. Her fingers slide into me twinning mine. Her knees slide my legs wider apart while she pulls hard on my nipple. I moan into her, hot breath mingling. Kiss broken, she growls. “Just don’t take what’s not yours.”

She turns me on my front when she is done finger-fucking me. But I still haven’t come and she’s not done with me yet. The still wet lace goes around my wrists at the small of my back, as I breathe into the pillow. Her legs pin my knees to the bed. Her hot sex presses to my bound hands. “My turn.” She engulfs me and rocks.  

Her cunt is so tight and ridiculously wet. The skin of her mound is smooth as she rubs against me. She comes around my fingers like a torrent. I don’t know if it’s piss or just a flood of cum. All I know is she screams like a banshee and it nearly breaks my fingers. But oh god I still want more. She slides off of me and pulls my underwear the rest of the way down my legs and binds my ankles.

Her weight leaves me and I whimper at the loss of sensation. A drawer scrapes open & there’s a sound I remember from one drunken night of complaining about men. She carries a switchblade. Gooseflesh breaks out over every square inch of me.

“Let’s get rid of this tank top.” She cuts it from me, none too carefully as I feel steel on skin. She sits the switchblade down nearby. I whimper as she rubs her own fluids across the surface of my ass, working some down into the crack. “This started with you taking something that doesn’t belong to you.” She brings her hand down on my wet skin, hard. “You need a spanking.” Her hand across my wet ass stings sharply.

There’s not a lot of power behind the blow, but I hiss. It hurts but there’s a twitch inside me I can’t deny. I want more. “Hit me again.”‬ My mouth is dry and the words come out as a croak. I love how weak I sound.

‪She grabs my hair, winding it around her hand and pulls hard. “You don’t talk and you certainly don’t tell me what to do.” ‬

‪Tears spring to my eyes and I nod.

With one final hard pull, she releases my hair, straddles my waist reverse cowgirl style, and begins raining blows on my ass. Every two or three strikes, she alternates scraping at the reddened flesh and kneading it, pulling my cheeks apart. I can feel her dripping cunt and hear its wet noises as it rubs against the small of my back. The scent of our arousal fills the air.‬

‪I chew at my lips and only moans and squeaks escape my mouth as she brutally punishes me. Finally, she stops and chuckles. “You seemed to like that a little.” She dips into the cleft between my legs and spreads the fluid between my cheeks, working it around the rim of my asshole. The pad of her finger presses in and I try to relax and invite its presence. I love being fucked in the ass.   ‬

‪She pushes in up to the first knuckle and then the second, slipping in and out of me with agonizing slowness. Pain and pleasure mingle into a volcano of sensation, added to by the invasion of her slick fingers. “I have something for you. I ever catch you without it and there will be repercussions.” She dismounts and takes something else from her drawer. “It’s as pretty as you are.” ‬

The metal is cool and slick. My roommate runs it down the crack of my ass and then presses it against my tightened sphincter. “Don’t resist, it’s going in either way.”

At first, the slick pressure is enjoyable. Then the stretching becomes uncomfortable, nearly unbearable. What is she putting into me? It doesn’t matter. She has me where she wants me and as much as the treatment hurt, the idea of her owning me lit everything in my brain and soul on fire. Finally, after being stretched to the point where I thought I might tear, it relented and I closed around it.

“Now,” she pats me on my still tender cheeks, “keep that in and you’ll always have a memory of what happens when you play with other’s things.”

“Can I come, now?” My voice cracks as I ask the question. I know how desperate it sounds and it’s not half as needy as I feel.

She snatches the panties from my ankles and smacks my ass. “Do whatever you like.”

I squeal in pain and frustration. I don’t want to make myself come. I want her fingers in me and her mouth on me.

She takes the panties from my wrists. “I’m keeping your panties for my collection. You’re one of mine now.”

I roll on my side and watch her, happy to be owned. Then I think about the girl who once wore the panties I tasted and hope we can compare notes about our mistress. I also hope we can spend some time together discovering new sensations and seek pleasure away from her gaze. I sigh and finger my clit to one orgasm after another, singing for her pleasure as she gets ready for the day. Class will have to wait and when I go it will be on weak and shaking legs.



300×300+300 – “Seduced by the Satyr” by Aimée Maroux

This is the first guest post for my new series called “300×300+300”. Take a picture approx 300 pixels on a side and pair it with a three hundred word story. Then send it my way! Enjoy.

Satyr Nymph Sex

Chrysis struggled against the satyr, but there was no escape. Not that she wanted to. She enjoyed the warmth of his body and the strength of his arms. He roughly grabbed her arse, lifting her easily. His cock tapped against her buttocks, moist and warm and hard as the horns springing from his forehead. She slung both arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, crossing them just above his tail. He nibbled her neck and licked her cleavage while he guided his cock towards her entrance. Chrysis was already wet with anticipation. Still, she gasped when he pushed his fat tip into her. His cock was not exceptional for a satyr, but ridiculously large for a human.

“Slow down, you horny satyr! I can’t take all of you just yet.”

He gave her an impatient look, his amber eyes filled with lust. “What are you, a virgin?”

He did listen, though, starting with small, almost gentle thrusts, stretching and widening her cunt for his beastlike cock. She moaned, throwing her head back in ecstasy as he licked the sweat off her breasts, his thrusts continually deeper and faster. She felt as if pure lightning was running through her veins.

“Ohhh, by Bakkhos and all gods of Olympos this feels divine!”

“Ohhh yes!” he joined in.

She felt him getting even harder, riding herself up and down his length and his sucking on her stiff, hard nipples made her even crazier with lust. “Faster!” she commanded and he was happy to comply. Her skin clashed against his fur, her breasts rocking in the rhythm of their love-making. She shuddered as she came, her sheath clenching the thick shaft of her partner who cried out too, puttering his come against her walls, making her climax a second time.

Aphrodite_010_by_askarAuthor Bio: Aimée Maroux is a lover of mythology, erotica and fantasy. As a writer, she combines those passions into a diverse collection of erotic short stories. Being an obsessive researcher, most of her works contain footnotes, expanding upon life in the ancient world and references to myths. You can find more of her writing on her erotic mythology blog: http://erotic-mythology.over-blog.com/

Follow her on Twitter for excerpts from her erotica stories and ancient erotic art – cocks, vulvae and sex scenes.

Why Do I Write Erotica?

I got asked this question a few times recently and it made me think. I’ve been a writer far longer than my Amazon page would indicate. Several years ago, a friend of mine who had a podcast put out calls for stories. I decided to see if I could, just as a lark. I loved it. That was the match that lit a long-smoldering flame.

Time passed and another friend, Nobilis Reed, put out that he was looking for writers for his podcast. He’s a paying market and I wanted to see if I could make the cut. It took time and a couple of drafts, but I did. Now I knew my work in that realm was good enough to pass muster. The question was, did I want to do more of this or was I satisfied?

One thing I can never be as a writer is “satisfied”. I always want to push myself harder and see what I can do next. I love writing all kinds of things. It looked like this was next on the list.

I’ve always viewed erotica, comedy, and horror to be kissing cousins. While they’re all “genres” none of them are really genres in my mind. At least not in the same way science fiction or fantasy or mysteries are. The main purpose of writing in those three areas is to elicit a specific physical/emotional response. The trick, in my mind, is to do it in a way that involves some brain matter on the part of the writer at least.

It’s easy to go for the shock or the pun or the hardcore explicit material. You’ll get what you want. What’s not easy is to make these things artistic, layered, nuanced. I don’t think more highly of myself than I should. I’m not saying I have the talent to do it. But what I am saying is, if I do then why shouldn’t I want to turn people on in a way that’s entertaining on multiple layers?

So, in a nutshell, that’s why I want to write erotica. I want to learn how to make people laugh, squirm, moan, and perhaps all three at once. This is the latest step towards that end. Only time will tell if I can make that happen.

How about you, gentle reader? Why do you write it, if you do?

Sparkle Pony and Blue Eyes Come Together

Before you read this, read part one here and part two here.  If you like it, I’ve set up a tip jar over there on the sidebar. Do what feels right!

The address I got from Sparkle Pony’s text was in an area I was familiar with. It was near campus, within easy walking or biking distance. Was she a student? It was crazy how little I knew about her, but she’d captured me. I stopped my car a block up from the duplex. She was in unit A. I took several breaths before getting out and walking through the cool night air. Still damp from my earlier adventures. I hoped she had something I could drink. Besides her.

I giggled. “Yes, I’d like a tall warm glass of whatever comes out of your cunt.” I muttered to myself, conscious someone somewhere could overhear.

I stepped up to the door and rang the doorbell. The one window at the front of the house had a light on behind it though it looked more like candle or oil light than electric. A rapid series of three clicks and the door swung open. In the dim light I could see her. She wore a short robe, barely more than a swimsuit cover-up.

“Come in, my Blue Eyes.” She gestured for me to cross the threshold.

Knees weak, I did as she asked. I closed the door behind me and the scent of lavender with an undercurrent of what had to be my lover’s arousal filled the air. The living room was simply furnished, one loveseat on each of the walls to my left. The wall to my immediate right turned into a hallway after being broken up by two doors. Across from the doorway stood a set of built-in dark wooden shelves crammed full of books and things which could be knick-knacks or sex toys or both.

“Have a seat.” She pointed to one of the love seats to my left.

I stood dumbly for a moment, taking her all in. I could see now her robe was silky and looked like a watercolor print of some sort. Her legs were full and shapely and she had curves to spare. I’d seen her before, of course, but every time she filled my gaze it was like I’d seen her for the first time. I started to sit down.

“Stop.” She held up one hand. “I want you to be comfortable. Would you like to take off your clothes first? I think you would.”

I had stopped mid squat and then nodded dumbly. Getting naked seemed like the best idea ever. I grabbed the hem of my long shirt.


Following her command, which was little more than a whisper, I moved with deliberation. When my shirt was over my head I saw she’d undone the robe’s tie. My nipples poked over the cup of my demi-bra, the light blue lace revealing dark areolas. I ran my hands up my flat stomach and flicked at them lightly. They wouldn’t get any harder, but I hissed at the sensation. I made undoing each of the front hooks a production.

As I did, I watched SP cup her own, much larger and fuller breasts through the silken robe. She let out a shuddering moan.

The sound was echoed by a much higher pitched mewling cry from my own mouth. “I want to bury my face in your warmth.”

“We’ll get there, my dear. Right now, be grateful you’re here and undressing before me.” She slid one hand down the front of her body teasing shadowed flesh.

I nodded. And held my arms back so my bra would fall free from my arms and shoulders. I bent over to take off my shoes, cursing that I would have to take my eyes off of her glorious softness. Fingers worked at stubborn laces and I removed one and then the other socks and all, noticing as I did she’d come closer.

“Turn around, but don’t stand up.”

“Yes.” Somehow I managed to execute the turn by shuffling and staying stooped over.

Well-manicured fingernails slid under the waistband of my tights. She drew them down over my hips and legs so I could step out of them. The nails slid over my skin drawing gooseflesh in their wake. She left my underwear intact. Soaked as it was, I might as well not have been wearing it at all.

She knelt behind me I could feel her breath on my moist skin. “So beautiful.” The puffs of air from those words bathed me. I felt her fingers on my ass cheeks. She spread them apart and blew a warm stream of air over my crack.

“You’ve done so well for me following my commands. I think you need to be rewarded don’t you?”

The only answer I could muster was a groan and a nod.

“But what might your reward be?” Her tongue started near my left ankle, the trail of saliva left on my leg felt like a mix of fire and ice. When she reached the back of my knee her tongue swirled the tender flesh there. I nearly lost the ability to stand at the sensation. I was usually incredibly ticklish but wasn’t in the right headspace.

She continued moving up my leg and when she reached the point where my thigh stopped and my ass started she began biting in earnest like she wanted to eat me. These were not the playful nips part of me expected. I would wear these marks for days or perhaps weeks. But still, I pressed into them moaning.

She pulled apart the rosy pink lips between my legs so the string fell in and disappeared into its hot wet recesses. Again she blew. I’ve never in my life before or since been a squirter. If I ever were that would’ve been the instant I would’ve bathed her face in my essence. She didn’t stay there long, instead moving down my other leg just as she had moved up. Biting at the beginning and ending with tongue and lips near my feet. Tears streamed down my face in a mixture of ecstasy and frustration.

I wanted to be fucked.

I wanted to be used.

I wanted her to throw me down on the floor and have her way with me.

But none of these words made it past my lips, instead insensate whimpering and mewling were all I could muster.

She got her feet again and backed away. “You can stand and then sit on the couch. “

Having been bent over for the better part of what felt like ten or fifteen minutes, coming back to a standing position turned out to be tricky. If I moved too fast, I’d get dizzy. Instead of sitting gracefully as I’d hoped, I nearly fell onto my side. She didn’t move to catch me but stood to watch me fall like a creature fresh out of the egg.

The sofa was warm against my heated flesh. I don’t know what the material was but I hoped it was scotch guarded because I was leaking effusively. “Can I taste you now? “

She dropped her robe to the floor. I had mentioned before she was curvy, full-figured, voluptuous. Whatever word you use it’s useless when confronted with a beauty like this. Her skin was like a ripe apple tight and shiny with oils. Succulent flesh waited just underneath for me to have my own turn at biting. Her breasts, full and soft like pillows, were held high thanks to excellent posture. Her stomach was soft and round like a belly dancer, solid muscle undulating underneath. She danced for me to music only she could hear.

“Soon, my love.” Her skin glowed in the soft light with glitter exploding here and there like supernovas. Her broad hips rolled towards me and she leaned back, shimmying and undulating. I ran my hands down my own body, not wishing it was like hers, but wishing it was hers. My own core opened to my touch as I watched her spread before my eyes. She’d walked her feet out to the sides for balance and to give me a glorious preview. Her thighs were damp with her desire.

I reached behind me and turned up the little hurricane lamp whose light I’d seen from the outside. It let me see her body in greater detail. While she moved for me, I slid one finger into my heat. Thoroughly slick thanks to the show and the attention she paid me, my nerve endings sparked and flickered. I pulled at my nipple. “God, please I want your body. I want you to own me, make me what you want.”

Those were the words she must have been waiting for. She ended her dance. “Play Blue Eyes playlist.” Low jazz streamed from a speaker on her bookcase. She stood before me, my eyes level with her belly button. I saw a silver ring there. “Please me.”

I leaned forward and put up hands on her round hips. Rather than drawing her to me, I was pulled in like a meteor to Earth’s atmosphere. I could burst into flame and die now and I would be happy. I fell to my knees in front of her and let my tongue find the silver navel ring. Her skin tasted like coconut and tropical fruit. I lapped at her navel, like a huge cat. As I did, I let my fingers find that round ass and massaged it. As I’d imagined, the roundness hid a strength of body in addition to delicious softness. She was a creature of extremes.

“Yes, worship my body.” She worked her fingers into the short hair crowning the top of my head. Nails raked at my scalp, drawing lines of flame across my skull. She pushed downward and I needed no other urging.

My tongue circled over her mound, the skin as soft and delicate as I imagined. Trying desperately not to rush, I still encountered the top of her slit well before I expected to. Her engorged clit peaked out from the pouty pink lips of her vulva. I sucked at it with just the barest amount of pressure and only the very edges of my lips, like I imagined you’d drink the finest champagne. I was rewarded with an explosion of flavor and a thin trickle of her essence.

Our moans sounded together as my fingers found the crack of her ass. I drew her against my face, nose pressing against firmness as my tongue delved into her for the first time. I say this with no hesitation. Her cunt was easily the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. As I searched its depths the best I could, I felt my own pussy open even further. I knew it wasn’t so, but I felt for sure I’d be sitting in a pool of my own making. I wanted to drown in her. I wanted to dissolve now that I finally had what I wanted. Her cries and shouts of joy played counterpoint to the saxophone and bass. Time held no meaning but I knew we had come to a different song. I must have been lapping from her for several minutes and felt her quiver against me time and again.

I broke free from the gravity well that was her body long enough to gaze up at her enraptured face. “I made you a promise if I remember.” My voice was thick with lust, chin and vocal cords coated with her juices.

She looked down at me and nodded, her voice as stolen as mine had been earlier.

I got to my feet and moved behind her. It was my turn to take her. I grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her down to her knees. She supported herself by her elbows on the couch. “Take me. Oh my god, please.”

I spread her ass wide and could just make out the dark pink bud waiting for me. I buried my face between mounds of flesh and wormed my tongue into her tightness. She must have readied herself before I got there as I could still taste the coconut over her own natural flavors. While my tongue plunged deeper and deeper into her, I slid one finger after another into her molten cunt. While I slowly fucked both of her openings, the thumb of my free hand found her clit, which had to have been half an inch long now.

Ragged grunting and glossolalia were all SP could manage at this point. She would try and swear or beg or command, but it was nothing more than a mélange of breathy sibilants.

I felt her body begin to crescendo towards her next orgasm. I pulled my mouth from its happy home and eased my body beside hers so I could continue working my whole hand into her while speaking into her ear. “I want to fuck you like this every night. I want to bathe in your essence. I want to come to know every sexy square inch of you. I want to fill our nights with passion and music and fucking.”

My SP threw her head back and screamed at the ceiling. “Yes, oh fuck yes. Oh my sweet blue eyes. I want to fuuuuu. Uh. Uh.” She clamped around my hand, almost up to my wrist. When I’d remarked on her muscular strength earlier I wasn’t overestimating. The contraction molded my hand into a new shape and I managed to pull it free before she crushed it all together.

I threw my body against hers from behind, connected by nothing but skin on skin and desire. She ground her backside against me and it felt for a moment like we were bound on a molecular level. Our skin had fused from heat and sex and love. With a motion equal parts desire not to collapse on a hard floor and one gravity well moving on another, I managed to pull her onto the loveseat and we curled there as best we could, a tangle of heaving breasts and limbs.

Our sessions over the phone would continue and after that night we would find many ways, places, and new and exciting scenarios to enjoy our bond. In this moment of union though, I had claimed her and she had claimed me, one for the other, hopefully without end.


Fran Van Helsing Flash

– Topping monsters since 1937.

The werewolf struggled mightily against it’s silver reinforced chains. It was no use.

Fran Van Helsing poured hot wax over its furry mound. There was a ripping sound and glistening labia were made plain to her gaze. She licked her lips. “Now lets see who gets eaten.”

Dracula snarled at his foe. “You have me bound because it’s daylight and I’m weakened. Come sundown, I’ll end you.”

Van Helsing smiled and pulled a thick wooden shaft from her quiver. “Not before I pierce your arse.”

“Don’t you mean harrrrr!” Howls echoed off castle walls.

Fran Van Helsing had the fish man pinned by his shoulders with her knees while facing his feet. She assumed it was male. She shrugged her shoulders.

“You’re good at holding your breath, right?” She sat back on its face and shivered as its tongue entered her. “Good, Gillman.”

Quick and Dirty Reviews

In my “research” while becoming a published writer of erotica and in endeavoring to become a better one, I’ve read quite a bit of steamy fiction. I thought I’d share with you some titles I read and enjoyed just a quick one or two line review.

516aoznyzkl-_sy300_ There are ebooks I’ve read where the point is clearly to get you off as quickly as possible. This falls under that category. Most of Amber Skye’s library seems to. This is not me throwing shade. Soccer Mom was fun in addition to being hot and the characters were more than just cardboard fuck machines. This very much falls into the category of HD Porn with more than just a veneer of plot. This is true of most of her stories. If you want stories that are just “the good parts” I commend her to you. @Amber69Skye on Twitter 

The Complete Adventures of Amy is perhaps a 51phcgjca0l-_sy300_step up from Amber’s work in some ways. I don’t mean to imply that one’s better quality than the other. Not at all. Because this follows the titular character over the course of her adventures, you get to watch her develop as a character. Most of that development does focus on the sex. This is by all means a book that strives to make you “get there”. And it works in that way. But again, unlike books that shall not be named here, there is a character here and it is thoroughly enjoyable. Also, and perhaps most important, there are laughs to be found.  PoppyGoodhead on Twitter

51swyptssjl-_sy300_ Lust and Lustre by CJ Douglass is a book that finally gets us out of the “just the good bits” territory. This is the kind of fiction I aspire to publish. It’s HOT to be certain, but where the others get close to telling a story, this one actually does. Think Pride and Prejudice and Porno. The main character is a strong-willed young thing who wants to experience both carnal knowledge and a deeper understanding of any future spouse than her society smiles upon. It also reminds me of a 19th-century erotic magazine called the Pearl. This is well worth checking out! While you’re over there also grab Letter of the LawCJ Douglass on Twitter

41kevuqi9jl As part of the Taken by the Greek Gods series, Hermes Loves Dionysus by Aimée Maroux was sent to me for joining her mailing list. As a result I’ve become a fan. What really sets this apart from others isn’t plot or characterization. There are two things going on here that make her stories work for me. The first is attention to detail and not just the lurid ones. Aimee does her homework when it comes to setting and the gods themselves. The second is how tender this particular story is. She does an amazing job of showing you the emotions and the internal lives of these characters. AimeeMaroux on Twitter 

Like my thoughts? Grab these ebooks (all available on Kindle Unlimited I believe) and review them! And share this post.


300×300+300 – “Ruin Me” by Juliette van der Molen

This is the first guest post for my new series called “300×300+300”. Take a picture approx 300 pixels on a side and pair it with a three hundred word story. Then send it my way! Enjoy.

two women pixabay
Image Credit is CCO: https://pixabay.com/en/girls-lesbian-gay-sex-sensual-3053051/

Ruin Me

Your body is a braille I want to read in the darkness. I knew this the moment I saw you, when you brushed past me in the dark hallway where the echo of techno bass thumped a few decibels away from the maddening crowd. A lipstick crush on the back of my neck, you branded me until the heat glowed through every extremity. You could grind me down to dust.

“Laura,” you whispered against my ear. “My name is Laura, say it, say it.”

For a moment I considered that you were a stranger, but my instinctive fear flew away while my mouth fell open and your name tumbled out of my mouth, sliding down the center of my tongue and onto the ancient stone you’d pressed me up against. My hips rocked back into the softness of your belly, an insouciant invitation, as if I did this all of the time— as if it were nothing. But you knew better, didn’t you? I’d come to the castle ruins looking for an encounter, just like everyone else.

Jasmine filled my senses and the sweaty tang of you. I wanted to drag my tongue on your skin, roll it up with your name and swallow you into me somehow. You weren’t having it, your hands sliding over my hips until your fingers found the edge of my tight skirt to spider up the inside of a damp thigh. I groaned against your hand, my mound rubbing into your palm like a mouth craving sustenance. When your fingers curl inside me they jerk me close in demand.

“I’m taking you home.”

You whisper this and your teeth graze my ear, sharp enough to elicit a yelp. I want you to do it. I want you to do whatever you want.

Ruin me.

JvdM Author Photo Author Bio: Juliette van der Molen is a writer and poet living in the Greater NYC area. She writes completely unladylike erotica and other sundry things. Her work has also appeared in Rose Quartz Journal, Burning House Press, Memoir Mixtapes, Zathom and several publications on Medium.  You can find more of her writing at Medium and connect with her on Twitter @j_vandermolen. Her debut chapbook, Death Library: The Exquisite Corpse Collection, was published in August 2018 by Moonchild Magazine.