Excerpt for Depraved Erotica 63 - 8 Hardcore Tales by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

This page may contain adult content. If you are under age 18, or you arrived by accident, please do not read further.



Featuring stories from:

Dirk Rockwell

Misty Rose

Brock Landers

Taylor Jordan

Rickie Sheen

Copyright 2018 by BS Publications


  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.  

DISCLAIMER: These stories are intended for a mature audience only! Contains explicit, graphic sex and language, including rough and aggressive sex, dirty talk, anal sex, alpha males, bdsm, femdom, pegging and more. Not intended for individuals under the age of 18 or those with a weak constitution.


















It was just after 11PM on December 31st when Scott Thompson saw Whitney’s car pull into the parking lot of the apartment complex they shared. He was on the front porch, listening to the sounds of The Mars Volta coming from his living room speakers, a pack of cigarettes on the table in front of him and an ice bucket with two bottles of Blue Moon by his feet. All around him were the sounds of partying, as multiple gatherings of drunken fools used the last day of the calendar year as an excuse to make as much noise as possible.

He lit a cigarette and sat there smoking as he watched Whitney’s car pull into a spot near the rear of the lot. She climbed out, looking even hotter than usual (which was saying quite a bit) and started towards the entrance to the complex, which was right next to his patio.

Whitney was all dolled-up, wearing a pair of high heels and a short green dress that showed off her perfect body—sculpted arms, large, firm breasts, incredible legs that just wouldn’t quit and a washboard stomach. He noticed right away that she was walking with more urgency than usual, as though she was either in a hurry to get somewhere or pissed off.

As she got closer, he could see that her hair was a mussed up and her face was fixed in a scowl. She was pissed off, all right. That was certain. He found himself wondering what had happened but knew he wouldn’t ask. While they had spoken a few times in the six months since he’d moved in, it wasn’t like they had anything even resembling a friendship. A couple of words in the laundry room, a nod in the hall, that sort of thing. Not enough to pry into her personal life as she passed by his patio. Not by a long-shot. Hell, he didn’t know if she even knew his name.

But, as it turned out, she did know it. And not only that, but she made the first move, even though he didn’t recognize it for what it was at the time. It wasn’t much really, just a glance in his direction as she approached the entrance to his left. A glance, followed by a longer look, then a question.

“You’re Scott, right?”

He nodded, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach.

“I’m Whitney.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Whitney’s scowl softened into a shy little smile, as though she was flattered that he knew who she was. “You got any more of those smokes?” she said.

“About half a pack,” Scott replied.

“You mind if I join you for a couple?”

“Not at all,” he said, trying to play it smooth despite the surprise and excitement coursing through his system.

“Cool,” Whitney said, climbing through the bushes towards his patio. “I could really use something to help me unwind.”

She made her way through the bushes and sat in the empty chair on the opposite side of his little patio table. Scott shook a cigarette out and handed it to her. He flicked his lighter open, lit her cigarette and then his own. Then he grabbed the last two beers from the bucket, opened them, and offered her one.

“Thanks,” she said.

“My pleasure,” Scott replied.

Whitney took a long pull of her beer and followed it up with a drag from the cigarette. She leaned her head back and made a circle with her lips and blew the smoke into the air. Scott didn’t want to stare at her but found it exceedingly difficult not to. She was just so damn gorgeous, from her silky black hair to her big brown eyes to her petite little nose to her full lips and flawless skin. And from the way she held herself, it was obvious she didn’t mind being stared at; in fact she seemed to encourage it.

Scott’s dick was getting hard just from looking at her. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he said, trying to steer his mind out of the gutter.

“I don’t,” she said. “Not often, at least. Only when things are going really bad.”

“I take it tonight is one of those nights?”

“It certainly is.”

“Guy trouble?”

“Something like that.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Fair enough.”

Whitney took another drag, held it for a moment, then blew the smoke out. “So why aren’t you out and about tonight? You know, it being New Year’s Eve and all.”

“It’s just not my thing,” Scott said. “Don’t get me wrong, I like a good party as much as the next guy, but I just don’t get the whole holiday craze. To me, tonight is just another night. No different than any other.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Whitney said. “I mean, here I was, all dressed up, looking to have some fun—” She finished the rest of her beer, set the bottle down and started to stand up. “But since you’re not interested, I guess I’ll just go back to my place and get my vibrator out.”

Scott nearly spit his beer all over the table.

“Oh, did that get your attention?” Whitney said, acting all innocent despite the look in her eyes that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Maybe just a little,” Scott said, trying to play it cool but failing miserably.

Whitney’s mouth turned up in a little smirk. “Yeah, I thought it might. So what do you say?”

“About what?” Scott replied, careful to not presume too much. After all, he barely even knew her.

“About coming back to my place,” she said as though it was nothing at all. “I mean, I know you don’t really care if it’s New Year’s Eve or just another random night, but I do. And I’d rather spent it with an actual live person instead of a plastic battery-powered toy.”

Containing his excitement behind a wall of feigned indifference, Scott said, “Well, I guess if it means that much to you . . .”

“It does,” Whitney said. “So grab your smokes and let’s go.”


Five minutes later they were in Whitney’s kitchen. On the granite counter in front of them was a bottle of Jack Daniels and a pair of shot glasses.

“I’d like you to meet my good buddy Jack,” Whitney said, extending her hand towards the bottle.

Scott nodded towards it. “Hello there, Jack.”

“Have you two met before?”

“Once or twice,” Scott said.

“Jack’s one of my best friends,” Whitney said, picking up the bottle. “He’s helped me through many hard times over the years. Most of my friends are into heavier stuff, but not me. Not often, at least. I prefer my good friend Jack. He always treats me right. Unlike most of the men I know.” She held the bottle up to her face and gave it a kiss. “Ain’t that right, Jack?”

Scott eyed her wearily, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. And whether or not it was too late to get himself out of it. Or if he even wanted to. He’d been with his share of women over the years, but they’d mostly been traditional hook-ups; co-workers, friends of a friend, the occasional drunken one-night stand, that sort of thing. Nothing like this had never happened to him before, not even close. And while he wasn’t opposed to it, he certainly didn’t feel real comfortable right now.

But before he could settle on a course of action, Whitney took matters into her own hands. She filled the shot glasses, then grabbed the nearest one and held it up for a toast. Scott grabbed the other one and clinked it against hers.

“Bottoms up,” Whitney said, effortlessly shooting the Jack.

Scott did the same, grimacing a bit as it went down.

Whitney laughed. “Are you all right?” she said, grabbing the bottle and filling the glasses up once again as she talked.


“You sure? It didn’t look like Jack treated you all that nicely.”

“I’ll be fine,” Scott said. And to prove it, he grabbed the glass and threw another shot down, grimacing only slightly this time.

“Not bad,” Whitney said. She shot her glass and started filling them up yet again. Her eyes had a psychotic little tilt to them. Scott wasn’t sure if the butterflies in his stomach were due to excitement or fear. Or perhaps both.

Oh well, he thought, nothing a few more shots couldn’t cure.


Six shots later and Scott was starting to feel the effects of the Jack. Nothing too serious yet, but he knew from experience that it took a little while for shots to fully kick in. Within a few minutes he would undoubtedly be buzzing hard, if not outright drunk.

Whitney was feeling it too. He could see it in her eyes, could smell it on her breath, could taste it on her lips when she suddenly stepped towards him and clamped them onto his. Her tongue darted into his mouth and he replied in kind, all the while trying to keep from thinking too much about what was going on.

Just go with the flow, he told himself. And he did, following Whitney’s lead on everything, from the rapidly increasing intensity of their kissing, to touching, to groping each other. He was just starting to wonder if he should take the lead into the next phase when Whitney pulled back, grabbed the bottle of Jack, and took a swig straight from the bottle.

“So what do you say, Scott? Do you think you can give me what I need?” she said, handing the bottle over to him.

“That depends on what it is.”

“I need to get fucked.”

Scott took a drink. “I think I can help you out with that.”

“You think you can?” she said. “Or you can.”

“I can.”

“I’m not talking about making love, or having sex, or any weak shit like that,” Whitney said. “I’m talking about getting fucked. Hard. Aggressive, rough sex. Can you handle that?”


“Are you sure? It may get pretty crazy.”

Scott took another swig of the Jack, then said, “Positive.” And he almost believed it.

Smiling, Whitney said, “Great. Then hold on tight.” She grabbed the bottle out of Scott’s hand and took one more swig, then set the bottle on the counter and dropped to her knees, right there in the kitchen.

“Whoa,” Scott said. “Wait a second—”

“It’s too late now,” Whitney said as she yanked his jeans open and pulled them and his boxers down to his knees without any hint of gentleness. Scott’s cock was already hard; it had been since they’d started screwing around. “I tried to warn you,” she said. “Now it’s too late.”

Scott started to say something but Whitney wrapped her lips around his cock and took the whole thing in her mouth, shutting him up instantly except for the soft, wordless sigh that came from his mouth.

Whitney held her position—deepthroating Scott’s cock, hands gripping his ass, nose touching his stomach—for a full 5 seconds before backing off to catch her breath. One of her hands went to the base of his shaft and grabbed on tight while the other cupped his balls. She spit on his cock and started aggressively jerking him off.

Looking up at him, she said “You like that? You like it when I take your cock down my throat? When I swallow the whole fucking thing?”

Scott nodded, afraid of what his voice would sound like if he tried to talk. But Whitney was having none of that. She knew she wanted, and she was going to get it.

“Say it,” Whitney said, the evil little glint in her eye more prominent than ever. “I want to hear you say it.”

Scott wasn’t sure when she’d flipped from a relatively normal girl to a dirty-talking slut, but it was freaking him out a little bit. He’d had his fair share of sex over the years, but nothing like this. Not even close. It was disturbing. Not disturbing enough to actually try and stop the proceedings, but disturbing nonetheless.

“I love it,” he said.

“Say it like you mean it,” Whitney snapped.

“I love it,” Scott said, more forcefully this time.

“Damn right you do,” Whitney shot back, her hand still working his cock, her eyes still locked on his. “You want me to deepthroat you again, don’t you? You want me to swallow your cock, to stick it down my throat as far as it will go. Don’t you?”

Scott nodded without thinking.

“Say it,” she said again, more impatiently this time.

“Yes,” Scott replied.

“Tell me what you want,” Whitney said.

Scott was buzzing pretty hard from the Jack Daniels but not quite hard enough to completely get over his discomfort. So he reached for the bottle and took another swig from it. Even though he knew it wouldn’t effect him immediately, just the idea that in a few more minutes he’d be drunk enough to no longer care what came out of his mouth gave him enough courage to say the words.

“I want you to deepthroat me,” he said. But apparently it wasn’t forceful enough for Whitney.

“Not very convincing,” she said.

Scott took another swig of Jack. “I want you to take my fucking cock all the way down your throat.”

“Close,” she said, the psychotic look in her eyes now having spread to the corner of her mouth. “One more time and I might actually believe you.”

Fuck it, Scott thought. No reason to hold back now.

One more swig of Jack, then, “Choke on my cock you fucking slut.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Whitney said, smiling like a demon.

She slapped his cock against her face a couple of times then went back to blowing him, her lips moving up and down his shaft in time with her hand, sucking and jerking in unison with each other, choking noises coming from her mouth as she took his cock deeper and deeper down her throat. And then her hands were again gripping his ass cheeks and his cock had again completely disappeared.

“Ho-ly shit,” Scott said as Whitney held his cock in her throat for what felt like an eternity.

Her tongue flicked out and licked his balls and her eyes started to leak tears, causing her mascara to run. She gagged once, then twice, before finally pulling off his cock.

Whitney took a couple of deep, coughing breaths then spit on his cock and started jerking it some more. Copious amounts of saliva covered Scott’s cock, making it slippery as hell.

She shifted positions, sliding her body further beneath his, until he was practically straddling her face. She held his cock against his stomach with one hand while cupping his sack with her other, trapping them in a tight, little pouch. She then proceeded to go to work on his balls, licking, sucking, gargling them, one, then the other, and finally both together.

The pressure was practically unbearable. Scott’s legs were jelly, forcing him to grab ahold of the counter top with both hands to keep from crumbling to the ground.

And then, right when Scott thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Whitney was climbing to her feet. She put her hands on the counter and bent over at the waist, her legs perfectly straight, muscles taut, her tight little ass sticking out towards him, taunting Scott with its perfection. She reached back and lifted the bottom of her dress up, revealing a black g-string, which she promptly wiggled out of. As Scott watched, transfixed, it dropped to the floor. Whitney stepped out of it, her heels clicking on the hard kitchen tiles.

“Well?” she said, her head turned to look back at him. “What are you waiting for? Time to return the favor.”

Smiling, Scott sat on the floor, grabbed one of Whitney’s ass cheeks in each hand, spread them apart, and buried his face in between them.

“That’s right,” she said, pushing back against him and wiggling her ass. “Get in there. Bury your face in my pussy.”

Scott went to work on Whitney’s pussy, lapping at it like a cat drinking milk, running his tongue up and down her snatch, sucking on her pussy lips, sticking his rigid tongue inside her. She started to ride his tongue, lightly at first but then picking up more speed, her moans growing louder with every bounce.

Reaching back, Whitney grabbed a handful of Scott’s hair and pulled his face deeper into her, practically smothering him, forcing him to breath her into his lungs. He did so with pleasure, relishing in the helplessness, getting lost with desire as her wet, musky sweetness intoxicated him further.

Then she was pulling his hair, lifting him up from the ground.

“I need you inside me,” she said, looking back at Scott while she rubbed her ass against his rock-hard cock. “I need you to stick that fucking cock inside me and fuck me like I deserve to be fucked.”

Wasting no time, Scott did as he was told, his cock sliding into Whitney’s soaking wet pussy with no resistance whatsoever. The moment he got it inside she slammed her ass back into him, causing him to lose his balance and nearly knocking him off his feet.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” he said, grabbing her around the hips and leaning forward to better balance himself against her thrusts.

“You’re damn right,” Whitney said, pushing against the counter with her hands to provide more leverage. “Now shut up and fuck me like you mean it.”

She slammed back into Scott again, but this time he was prepared for it, and drove his cock into her at the same time.

“There you go,” she said, slamming back into him again. “There’s some hope for you after all.”

Laughing softly, not used to having his sexual prowess questioned and not really liking it, Scott decided to take more control of the situation. If Whitney wanted it hard, he’d give her all she could handle.

He grabbed the back of her shoulders, pulling her back towards him with every thrust. It took them a few pumps to get their timing down, but pretty soon their bodies were pounding together in a mass of frenzied flesh, Whitney’s upper half bent over the counter, her ass slamming repeatedly back against Scott’s hips, her hair flying everywhere, Scott’s cock going in and out of her pussy in long, aggressive strokes. Grunts of exertion came from both their mouths, filling the empty apartment with the sounds of raw, animalistic sex.

“Fuck yeah,” Whitney said. “That’s what I need. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me like the dirty little slut I am. Slam that cock into my pussy. Punish me. Make me pay!”

She threw her right leg up on the counter, opening herself up even more to him. And Scott took advantage, shifting his body to give her every inch of his cock. His left hand drifted up and grabbed ahold of her hair and yanked her head back, eliciting a sharp yelp from her throat as she arched her back to alleviate the pressure.

“You like that?” Scott said, the effects of the alcohol combining with the oblivion of sex to completely obliterate his inhibitions. “You like it when I pull your hair?”

“I love it,” Whitney moaned, her voice a guttural growl.

Scott spanked her ass. “What about that?” he asked, still fucking her like a madman all the while. “You like that too?”


He spanked it again, harder this time. “What? I can’t hear you.”

“Yes!” she screamed.

He spanked her ass again, even harder this time. It sounded like a gunshot in the small kitchen. Slap!

“Louder,” he said.





“YES!” Whitney screamed, her voice quivering. “I FUCKING LOVE IT! DON’T STOP, DON’T FUCKING STOP!”

Scott spanked her ass a couple more times then wrapped one arm around her upper body and grabbed her opposite shoulder and pulled her closer in to him, until their heads were just inches apart. With his opposite hand he reached out and grabbed her breast and squeezed, eliciting another gasp from Whitney. Grunting with exertion, he continued fucking her with everything he had, grinding up against her ass, pummeling her mercilessly as she screamed for more until he no longer had anything left.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Scott said, pulling his cock out of her pussy at the last possible moment and squirting his seed all over Whitney’s ass. Gasping for breath, he leaned back against the counter behind him.

Whitney grabbed a hand towel and wiped his sperm off her ass. “What a waste of good cum,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “Next time give me a heads-up before you’re going to do that. We’ll find a better place for it.”

“Next time?” Scott said, too tired to mask his surprise.

“Of course,” Whitney said. “It’s not even midnight yet. We’ve still got half the night to play around. Unless you’ve had enough?”

“Hell no,” Scott said.

“Are you sure? Because I can—”

“You can just stop right there,” he said. “No way I’m going to pass up the chance to fuck you again.”

“Is that right?” Whitney said, flashing him a nasty little grin.

“That’s right,” Scott said, grinning right back at her.

“Then let’s go,” she said, grabbing his hand and starting to lead him out of the kitchen. “Oh, and don’t forget the Jack. A few more shots and things are apt to get real kinky.”

Scott reached back and snatched the bottle off the counter. He didn’t want to miss out on the chance of things getting kinkier. No way, no how. He only hoped that in the morning he’d be able to remember everything. Somehow he thought he would, no matter how drunk he got. Some nights you just can’t forget. And he was pretty certain this New Year’s Eve was going to be one of them.






As I may have mentioned a couple (hundred) times before, I’m a dirty little slut. I love having sex, whether it be oral, vaginal, anal, or all of the above. I love it soft, I love it rough, I love it in between. I love getting dominated, I love being in control, I love taking turns. I love all different sorts of positions, situations, scenarios and men.

That being said, the vast majority of the time, there is one thing that stays the same: I’m the one on the receiving end. Even when I’m dominating a guy, forcing him to do what I want, sitting on his face, slapping him around a bit, that sort of thing, the session usually ends up with him sticking his dick in one of (if not all of) my holes and then spraying me with his cum. And I’m fine with that. It’s simply the natural order of things. But occasionally I’m in the mood to turn the tables on a man. Sometimes I want to be the one doing the fucking.

Now I know what you’re thinking: How can a woman get any physical enjoyment from strapping on a dildo and fucking some guy in the ass? It’s pretty simple, actually. The physical enjoyment derives from the mental enjoyment of dominating someone. There’s just something exhilarating about owning another person, making them do whatever you want, forcing your will upon them. So even though there’s no actual physical sensation from the strap-on itself, the mere act of forcing a man to take it in the ass makes me wet as hell.

Luckily, within my long list of sexual partners is a (relatively) small subset of men that are into that sort of thing. So I take a gander at my phone and scroll down until I find the group labeled with the initials FD (for FemDom) after their names. There are 8 of them in all. Each one has a number between 1 and 5 after the FD notation, telling me how rough they like it. A 1 likes it soft and romantic and a 5 likes it pretty rough. Now, the abuse the fives receive from me isn’t all that extreme compared to some stuff that can be found out there in cyberspace (I’m not really into the pain thing) but I can get pretty damn rough with them nonetheless.   

Tonight, fresh off a couple nights in a row of being on the receiving end of some extremely rough sex myself, I’m in the mood to fuck one of these poor boys up pretty bad. So I look up the number of my favorite five on the FD list. His name is Mark. I give him a call.

After he answers, I tell him what I have in mind for the night. He thinks it sounds great and says he’ll meet me at my place in one hour. I hang the phone up and start getting prepared, my excitement already building. It’s going to be a fun night.




Almost exactly an hour later there’s a knock on the door. I answer it decked out in studded black leather bra and panties with fingerless black gloves, thigh-high boots with 4-inch heels and carrying a 3-foot long braided leather whip.

The whip is pretty much just for show, it doesn’t really have a practical purpose in tonight’s proceedings but Mark’s eyes go wide upon seeing it. Which is exactly what I was going for. I wrap the whip around the back of his neck and pull him inside.

Mark is a pretty physical guy, standing at a shade under 6 feet tall and almost 200 pounds. He’s not a pretty boy by any means, with a rugged face, a couple days worth of stubble and a standard barbershop haircut. He’s in his mid-thirties and has the body of a former college athlete starting to go soft around the middle. All in all not the kind of guy you’d normally associate with the sort of thing we have going on tonight. Which is a big part of the fun for me. Dominating a pretty little young man is one thing, but owning a big, manly-man type is infinitely more satisfying.

I lead him over to the center of the living room and order him down to his knees. He obeys without question. I wrap the whip around his neck a couple of times, pulling it tight enough that he can feel it but not so tight that it’s choking him.

“Are you ready for tonight?” I ask, looking down at him with an evil little smile on my face.

“I think so.”

“Are you sure? You look a little scared.”

“I am,” he says. “But that’s part of the fun.”

“I’m glad you see things that way,” I say. “Because I have a surprise for you. And it’s pretty scary. Do you want to see it?”

He nods.

I pull the whip tighter, choking him. Tilting my head to the side and flashing him a harsh look, I say, “What? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes,” he says, his voice softer due to the constriction of his neck.

“Yes what?” I say, pulling even tighter.

“Yes, mistress,” he manages to croak out. His face is starting to turn bright red.

“That’s better,” I say, unraveling the whip, allowing him to breathe normally once again. “You stay put. I’ll be right back.”

I head into the kitchen. I put the whip on the counter and pick up a strap-on with a reasonably thick, 7-inch latex dildo attached to it. It’s not the biggest dildo in my collection, not by a longshot, but it’s quite a bit larger than anything I’ve ever used on Mark before. Or any other man, for that matter.

I strap it on and head back out to the living room, where Mark is waiting, still sitting in the exact spot I left him, just like a good little sub. His eyes open wide when he sees the size of the cock strapped to my waist. I walk towards him, stopping once I’m just a couple inches away from him, the dildo practically touching his face, which is turned up towards me.

Standing over him, taunting him, I stroke my artificial cock. I’m not going to lie, it feels good to have a cock in my hands. Even if it’s a fake one made out of latex. It’s hard to keep my hands off of it. I don’t know how guys don’t stroke it all day long.

“Do you see what I have for you today?” I ask, staring down at Mark.

“It’s fucking huge,” he says, his voice brimming with both fear and excitement.

“You’re damn right it is,” I say. “And you know why?”

Mark shakes his head.

“It’s because I had a bad fucking week and I need to take it out on someone,” I say. “And you’re the lucky winner.”

Bending down until our heads are on the same level, I grab ahold of his chin and squeeze tight. He winces just a bit.

“You see, Mark, today is all about torture and pain and making you squirm and whine and cry like a little bitch,” I say, my eyes locked on his. “I’m going to tear you open. I’m going to stick this huge cock deep inside your asshole until you feel it all the way in your fucking stomach.”

Mark swallows. His throat makes an audible click. From the look in his eyes he’s either truly scared or he’s a great actor. I’m thinking it’s a little bit of both.

I slap him in the face. He takes it like a man, hardly making any sound at all.

“Do you like that?” I ask.

He nods.

“Then I guess I’m not doing it hard enough,” I say.

I slap him again, harder this time.

Mark flinches but doesn’t cry out.

“What about now?” I ask. “Did that one hurt?”

“A little bit,” he says.

“Just a little bit? That’s all?”

Mark nods.

I slap him again. The sound echoes like a gunshot in the room.

This time he groans. His breath is growing more ragged and his cheeks are turning red.

“You felt that one, didn’t you?” I ask.

He nods.

I slap him again. And again. And again.

Mark’s entire face is bright red and his cheek is almost purple. Tears are leaking from his eyes and he’s breathing hard. Little mewling sounds escape from his throat.

Laughing, I grab a handful of his hair. “Open your fucking mouth,” I say.

He does as he’s told.

“That’s a good boy,” I say.

Then I shove my cock in his mouth.

“You like that don’t you,” I say as I pump Mark’s mouth with my strap-on. “You like having my fat cock down your fucking throat.”

His mouth is too full to answer but that’s no excuse.

I pull my cock out of his mouth and slap him again. “Answer me when I ask you a fucking question,” I say.

“I love sucking your cock,” Mark says.

“I don’t believe you,” I say. “Say it again. Like you mean it this time.”

“I love your fat cock down my throat,” he says. “Please give it to me again.”

“That’s more like it,” I say. He opens his mouth and I slip my cock back into it. I pump his face a few times then force him to deepthroat me.

Mark coughs and gags and tries to pull away. But I won’t let him go anywhere. I hold my cock in his throat for another five seconds before pulling it back out.

Coughing, he gasps for air.

“You’re a good little bitch aren’t you,” I say. It isn’t really a question but I know he’ll answer anyway.

Mark nods emphatically.

I give him a dirty look.

He gets the hint.

“I’m a good little bitch,” he says.

“That’s better,” I say. I slap him in the face with my cock. “Do you know where I’m going to put this?”

Mark nods but I continue on anyway.

“I’m going to put it in your tight little asshole,” I say. “I’m going to bend you over and stick this fucking cock in your ass. That’s what you want, right?”

He nods.

I glare at him.

“Yes please,” Mark says.

“Say it all,” I demand. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I want your fucking cock in my ass,” he says.

“I’ll bet you do,” I say. “But first you have to do something for me.”

“Anything,” he says.

I point at the carpeted floor. “Get on the ground,” I say. “On your back, your face towards the ceiling, legs together, hands at your side.”

Mark does as he’s told.

I step towards him, planting one foot on each side of his head. Then I squat down until my dripping wet pussy is hovering just above his mouth.

“Lick it,” I say.

His tongue shoots out and starts lapping at my pussy like a kitten drinking milk.

“That’s right,” I say. “Stick that fucking tongue in my dirty little snatch.” I drop a little further down, giving him more of my pussy to work with. I spit on my strap-on and start working it with my hand, just for the hell of it.

Mark is a good little pussy licker, but he is way too gentle for my mood tonight. I need something more. So without saying a word, I drop all the way down to my knees and smother him with my pussy.

“There we go,” I say aloud. “That’s more like it.”

I grind on Mark’s face, forcing his tongue to go deeper and deeper inside of me. His hands come up as if to try and push me off of him. I grab his wrists and hold them on the floor.

“Just take it,” I say. “Take it like a man.”

I let go of his wrists and reach back and grab ahold of my ass cheeks, one in each hand. I spread my ass apart, opening myself up even further, and put all my weight on his face. I can feel him struggling for breath, which turns me on even more. I stay planted on his face for a few more seconds, then lean forward just enough to give him a chance to breathe.

After giving Mark a couple of seconds to get some air, I lean back into him. But this time, instead of smothering him, I ride his face, running my pussy back and forth along his tongue, bouncing my asshole against his nose.

I release my ass cheeks and again grab ahold of Mark’s arms and hold them at his side. Then I scoot my legs forward just a bit, until my ass is poised directly over his mouth. He gets the hint, sticking his tongue out and licking my asshole.

“That’s a good boy,” I say. “Stick that fucking tongue in my dirty shithole.”

He does as he is told, sliding it as far up into my asshole as he can.

“Goddammit that feels so fucking good,” I say.

I let go of Mark’s arms and lean back, putting my palms on the floor for support. Then I bounce on his face, forcing his tongue in and out of me with increased intensity. My breath is growing more ragged as I approach orgasm.

I bring one of my hands forward and stick two fingers inside my pussy. While Mark continues tonguing my asshole, I slam my fingers and out of myself, the dildo bouncing up and down on top of my arm.

I shift my legs so my feet are once again on the floor, then rise up and turn my body around so I’m facing him, my pussy hovering directly above his face. I stick a third finger in my pussy and continue banging my snatch faster and faster as an orgasm washes over me.

“Holy fuck,” I groan as I cum, my juices streaming out of my pussy and onto his face. He opens his mouth to accept my offering.

“That’s right,” I say. “Drink it up you little bitch.”

Mark’s face is soaking wet. His eyes are wide and excited and he has a big smile on his face. His cock is sticking straight up, evidence that he’s enjoying himself.

“You like that, don’t you?” I say.

“I fucking love it,” he says.

“Yeah, it looks like it. Let’s see how you like this.”

I drop to my knees, straddling him, and sit down on his chest. I scoot forward until my cock is lying on top of his face. I smack him with it a couple of times, then slip it into his mouth.

Gripping Mark’s head with my hands, I fuck his face, hammering my cock in and out of his mouth as quickly as I can. His eyes are leaking tears and his face is red from exertion. He is gagging and saliva is dripping everywhere but I don’t let up, face-fucking him without mercy.

Staring down at him, my face inches from his, our eyes locked together, I say: “How about now? Are you enjoying yourself now?”

Mark’s mouth is too full to reply. But based on the hacking and coughing coming out of his mouth he isn’t having very much fun. But I am. In fact, I’m having the time of my life. I knew full well that if the roles were reversed, it would be quite a disturbing scene. And hell, maybe it still is. But I don’t give a shit. It’s not like Mark didn’t know what he was getting into tonight. He had plenty of chances to back out before now and he never took one. Plus, if his cock can be offered as evidence (and I don’t see any reason why it can’t) he is thoroughly enjoying this. Or at least, his body is.

Still, I want to use Mark for more things tonight, so I pull my cock out of his mouth and let him get some air. Not because I feel sorry for him, but because I don’t want to use him up too quickly.

Once he’s caught his breath, I fuck his face some more.

To his credit, he takes it like a man, not once backing out or trying to push me away. I know that on some level he enjoys this, no matter how extreme the indignities thrust upon him.

I pull my cock out of his mouth, turn around, and stick my ass in his face.

“See that?” I ask, fingering myself. “See how wet you’re making me?”

“Yes, mistress,” he says as best he can with my pussy attached to his face.

“Watching you choke and gag with my cock in your mouth like that, it makes my pussy so fucking wet.” I open up my pussy lips and push backwards until his mouth and nose are smashed up against my flesh.

“See how wet it is,” I ask “See how wet you make my pussy? Too bad you’re not going to get stick your dick in it.”

I give him a moment to catch his breath then back into him again, this time pressing my asshole up against his mouth.

“What really turns me on is watching you suffer,” I say. “And hearing you scream in pain. You do want to turn me on, right?”

“Yes, mistress,” he says, the words muffled by my ass.

“I know you do,” I say.

And to that end, I climb off him and grab a handful of his hair and pull him to his feet and lead him over to the dining room table, dragging him along by the hair. It’s time to take things to the next level.

Once we arrive at the dining room table I push him up against it, his cock hovering right above it and his ass to me.

“Bend over at the waist,” I tell him, pushing on his upper back.

He does so, his chest lying on the table.

I slap him on the ass.

“Legs straight,” I say. “No slacking.”

His legs straighten up.

Even with my platform heels on, Mark is a couple inches taller than me, but our hips are at basically the same level, which is all that really matters. Leaning over him, my head just to the side of his, my tits pressed up against his back, my strap-one lying on the crack of his ass, I whisper in his ear.

“Today I’m going make this ass mine,” I say. “I’m going to slap it until it’s bright red, then I’m going to fuck it until you beg me to stop. But even then I’m going to keep going, until I decide it’s time to quit. Got that?”

“Yes, mistress,” he says.

I grab a bottle of lube off the table and squirt it onto my strap-on. I take a moment to work it in, rubbing it all over my cock, then press the tip against his asshole. Mark takes a deep breath and holds it in preparation of penetration but I just hold the strap-on there, touching his asshole but not entering him, torturing him, taunting him with the expectation.

And then, just as he is forced to exhale, I slide my cock into his asshole. He grunts in discomfort as I force it halfway in and start pumping him. Looking down, I can see my cock sliding in and out of his asshole. It’s intoxicating and wonderful and it makes me feel powerful, especially with Mark sounding like a little bitch beneath me.

I give him my whole cock, making it disappear inside his asshole before sliding it halfway out and giving it to him balls deep again. His groans turn more guttural as his discomfort grows, which just makes me pummel his ass with more aggression.

His face is turned to the side, pressing against the table. His eyes are closed and he’s grimacing.

“That’s right,” I say. “Take it you little bitch. It makes my pussy drip and throb, using you like a worthless little piece of meat. I know you’re in pain. But you’re going to take it anyways because you don’t have a choice.”

I slap his ass hard enough to leave a palm-print, forcing a painful scream from his throat. But instead of slowing me down, this just turn me on and gets me more excited. I slap his ass repeatedly, his cries music to my ears as I continue pounding away at his asshole.

I slow things down for a moment, shoving the strap-on as far into his asshole as it will go and holding it there, deep inside him, as I lean over, my mouth mere inches from his face.

“I like it when you scream,” I say to him, using a playful, seductive voice. “Those are the sounds I want to hear. Those are the sounds that turn me on. Those are the sounds that make my pussy drip. Those are what satisfy me. Will you scream for me?”

“Yes, mistress.”

I slap his exposed cheek. He screams.

“Louder,” I say, slapping him again.

He screams again, louder this time. But still not loud enough.

“Louder!” I say, smacking him again. And again. And again, eliciting screams of pain from him every time.

“Not bad,” I say. “But I think you can do better.”

I grab his shoulders and lean back. Using his body as leverage, I pump him with more intensity than ever before, pulling his body back into my cock as I hammer away at him, hard enough to make the table scoot forward a couple inches with every thrust.

Mark is screaming louder than ever before, obviously in discomfort, if not outright pain.

I scream too, mocking him. The room is filled with the sounds of rough sex. It’s beautiful.

“What’s the matter?” I say, yelling to be heard over the sounds of his suffering. “You can’t take an ass pounding? How many girls have you fucked like this in your time? 100? 200? And you can’t even take a single ass pounding? You’re pathetic!”

I pull my dick out of his asshole and squat down a bit, lying my tits the top of his ass. “But I bet you can take a pair of tits rubbing on your ass,” I say. “You can’t take a cock in it but you can take my tits on it?”

Mark is too busy catching his breath to answer.

I slap his ass with both hands, so hard that the sound echoes about the room like a gunshot. He cries out in pain.

My tone indignant, I say, “I show you mercy on your ass, rubbing my glorious tits on it, and you can’t even be bothered to thank me?”

“Thank you mistress,” he says, still breathing hard.

I slap his ass again. “What the fuck did you say? I can’t hear you.”

“Thank you mistress,” he says again, louder this time.

“Like you fucking mean it,” I say, this time smacking him on the back of the thighs.

He yelps in surprise and says it again, sounding more contrite than before.

“That’s a good boy,” I say. “Don’t forget your manners again.” I slap his ass one more time for fun and then slide my cock back into his asshole.

This time I start pounding away at him immediately, not even bothering to take it slow.

“I like watching my cock go in and out of you while you sit there and grunt like the little pig,” I say to him, still relentlessly hammering away at him. “You’re a worthless, useless, pathetic little fuck. You’re lucky to even be in my presence. You should be thanking me.”

“Thank you mistress,” he says.

“Again,” I say.

“Thank you mistress,” he says without pause.

“Louder,” I say.

“Thank you mistress,” he says again, louder this time.

Hearing him like this while I’m fucking his ass turns me on, which propels me to hammer him even harder, which in turn causes him to make even more noise.

“Don’t fucking stop saying thank you,” I say.

“Thank you mistress thank you mistress thank you mistress,” he says repeatedly while I continue pounding away at his ass.

I can totally see what men get out of this; the power is intoxicating. But most of my enjoyment is mental, and while it definitely turns me on to fuck Mark in the ass, I need some actual physical pleasure. So I slide my cock out of his asshole and tell him to lie back down on the floor.

As he gingerly makes his way to the ground I head back into the kitchen. I slip out of the strap-on and grab a different dildo, this one a couple inches longer and thicker than the one I just got finished fucking Mark with. It’s attached to a mask that looks a bit like a pair of small panties. Holding this in my hand I return to the living room.

Mark is on the ground, lying on his back. His cock is still hard, proof that he’s still enjoying himself. His eyes flash to the dildo apparatus in my hand but he doesn’t ask about it. Without making any mention of it, I spread his legs wide and squat down between them, his cock within a foot of my head.

“I’m guessing you really want to fuck me about now,” I say, flashing him a little half-smile.

“Yes, mistress,” he says. “Please let me fuck you, mistress.”

“You want to fuck me?” I ask, dropping my upper body down so my tits are touching the tip of his cock.

“Yes mistress,” he says, groaning.

“How bad do you want it?” I ask.

“Really bad mistress,” he says.

“Beg for it some more,” I say, staring right at him, thoroughly enjoying the control I have over him.

“Please mistress,” he says. “Please let me fuck you.”

“You really want to fuck me, don’t you? You really want to stick your cock inside of me, is that right?”

“Yes,” he says, growing more and more desperate.

“Yeah? How bad you want it?” I know I should just get on with it but this is too much fun.

“Very bad, mistress.”

“Beg me for it again,” I say as I start climbing onto his body. “I like to hear you beg for it.”

“Please mistress, please let me fuck you,” Mark says.

 “Keep begging for it,” I say, nearly straddling him now. “If you want to stick your dick inside me you have to keep begging for it.”

“Please,” he says, his voice full of need. “I want to stick my cock in your beautiful pussy.”

“You want to fuck me? Is that what you want?” I’m completely on top of him now, one leg on either side of his body, my pussy sitting right on top of his cock, my tits pressing down on his chest, my face mere inches from his.

“Yes mistress,” he replies, allowing a little bit of excitement into his voice.

“Do you think you’re ready to fuck me? Do you think you’ve earned it?”

“Yes mistress,” Mark says.

I slap him in the face. He grunts more in surprise than in pain. I laugh.

“You’re not going to fuck me. You’re nowhere close to being worthy of fucking me.” I slap him again. “Besides, you don’t fuck me,” I say, grabbing him around the neck and lifting his head up. “I fuck you.”

I slip the dildo apparatus onto his head. It fits perfectly. The dildo is positioned just below his nose and sticking straight up. I continue climbing up his body until my knees are alongside his head. Then I sit down on the extreme upper portion of his chest, practically on his neck. He grunts as I put all my weight on him.

With my pussy right below his chin and my head directly above his face, I look down at him. “You can probably guess what’s going to happen now,” I say. “All I can tell you is if you do a good enough job, then maybe, maybe, I’ll allow you to cum before I kick you out of here tonight. Understand?”

Mark nods.

I smack his cheek again, just for fun. “That’s a good boy,” I say, climbing up so my pussy is straddling his face, hovering just above the dildo. Then I drop my pussy down onto it.

Squatting over him, I start bouncing up and down on his face, taking the dildo all the way down right from the get-go. The last twenty minutes have turned me on so much that I’m already more than halfway home to another orgasm.

I hammer my body down onto Mark’s face while he grunts beneath me from the force. The dildo is huge; it fills me up, pressing against the sides of my pussy, and against the back walls of my vagina at the bottom of every thrust.

Getting ever closer to cumming, I drop down onto my knees, straddling his face proper, and start slamming down onto him even harder. Gripping his hair with both my hands, I hold his head on the carpet and stare into his eyes while continuing to bounce on his face.

He’s grunting but not complaining in the least, not trying to squirm away, not doing anything that could jeopardize my orgasm. Because he’s being such a good boy I decide to give him the release he’s so long sought.

I slow down for a moment, releasing my hold on his hair and lifting my legs up just enough for me to spin on the dildo so I’m facing his lower half. His cock is as hard as ever, sticking straight up without any help.

Leaning over, I grab ahold of his cock and start to jerk him off while once again bouncing up and down on the dildo attached to his face. His legs are squirming and his entire body is shaking; I can tell he’s going to cum any second now. I’m almost there too, but not as close as he is.

“Don’t you dare cum before I do,” I say to him, jerking him off even faster, making it more difficult for him to follow my directions.

He makes a deep groaning sound beneath me. The sounds of his distress bring me that much closer to cumming. Just a few more seconds now.

But I’m not sure if he can hold out. His entire body is tense, like he’s flexing every muscle at the same time to keep from cumming.

“Just a five more seconds,” I say, riding his face even harder as my breath rate increases. Between groans I count them down. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

I tense up for a moment then let out a little shriek as my body releases, my pussy squirting juices all over his face while he makes a guttural, animalistic sound beneath me. His legs quiver as his cock releases it’s bounty, shooting white sperm high up into the air. It splashes down on his chest and the floor around him, some of it getting on my arm. His cock spasms at least five times, sending ever decreasing amounts of his cum into the air every time, until finally it runs dry.

But still I continue jerking him off, fly hand flying up and down his cock while his body shimmies and shakes from the discomfort. Eventually he’s able to twist out of my grip, pulling the dildo from my pussy at the same time. Laughing, no longer playing the role of the dom, I roll off him and take a seat on the floor as he slips the dildo mask off his head.

“Well, what do you think?” I ask, looking at his red, sweaty face. His chest is heaving and his body is still shaking a little bit.

“I think you’re fucking awesome,” Mark says, looking over at me.

“It wasn’t too much?” I ask.

“Hell no,” he says, smiling profusely. “It was perfect.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” I say. “I was starting to feel sorry for you there for a little while.”

“No need to,” he says. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“So you’ll let me do it to you again one of these days?”

“Let you?” Mark says. “Hell, I’ll be begging you to do this to me again.”

I lean over and give him a little kiss. “Ahh, you’re so sweet.” I climb to my feet. “Now let’s go hop in the shower and get cleaned up. Then we’ll go get something to eat. I figure after what I did for you tonight, the least you can do is buy me some dinner.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Mark says.

“I know it will,” I reply, holding out my hand. He takes it and I pull him to his feet. With my arm around his waist, we make our way to the bathroom to go get cleaned up.

Just another night in the life of a dirty little slut.








When Vicki first approached me at a bar last week, I was immediately smitten. She was tall, with an athletic body and powerful legs, a huge but firm ass, blonde hair and enormous tits. Plus I soon came to find out she had an attitude to match; super-opinionated, take-charge, straight-forward, no bullshit. Not to mention, she was a freak in the sack. In addition, she was seven years older than me, which has always been a fetish of mine. There’s just something about older women that gets me going like no tomorrow. All in all, she was pretty much my dream girl.

While still at the bar, we came to an agreement that we’d spend one night together, and if I could handle everything she dished out, then I’d earn another night with her, one where I could run the show. I quickly agreed and we went back to her place.

Once we got back to her place, she was in total control, running things from the get-go, never letting up, getting me to do things that I’ve never done before and having her way with me. It was an incredible night, one of my favorite ever, and in the end, I made it through unscathed.

Afterwards, we set decompressed, then set up a date for the week later, at my place, where I’d have the opportunity to turn the tables.

After a week that seemed to last upwards of a year, our second night together finally arrived.




There was a knock on the door right at eight o’clock. My stomach fluttering, I answered it. It was Vicki, wearing an extremely short white skirt, a black t-shirt with no bra on underneath and clear fuck-me pumps. She was looking as sexy as ever, giving me a hard-on just from looking at her.

“Come on in,” I said, opening the door wide.

“Nice to see you again,” Vicki said, stopping to give me a kiss on the cheek before striding past.

“You too,” I replied, closing the door.

Vicki headed straight to the couch and sat down, dropping her purse on the table.

“Do you want anything to drink?” I asked, looking down at her from behind.

“Maybe later,” she replied, turning to look at me. “Right now I just want to get things started.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, coming around and sitting down next to her on the couch. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I asked.

Continue reading this ebook at Smashwords.
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-36 show above.)