Complete Control

Anna Sky

Description

Complete Control is an erotic collection of five rather kinky tales of submission and control.A Feast for His Eyes - Anna SkyWould you be a human dessert tray at a private banquet? Lying perfectly still whilst covered in fleshy fruit, sticky honey and lashings of chocolate sauce was hard enough for one submissive, but then her Dom really turned up the heat.Training Laura Part 1 - Dee VoyseA day in the life of a young woman training as a slave to her master and mistress. The Priest - Erin Pim A good hearted young woman feels stress at her workplace, and is acting inappropriately as a result. Unhappy with her untoward actions, she feels the need to visit a male dominatrix by the name of "The Priest". "The Priest" advertises the ability to "purge you of your sins", which is exactly what she needs. Following Orders - Jess Alynn There's nothing quite like waking up to his dominant partner's specific scene request to arouse his submissive side. Knowing to expect luxurious arse-play is incentive enough, but is he ready to handle how far his limits will be pushed? Bound and blindfolded, can he take everything she gives, including her whole fist? Sometimes, as the sub in him knows, following orders is a pleasure all its own.Bindings - Teddy RadiatorShe's had her fun; now it's my turn. What games shall we play tonight?

Sujets

• Erotic literature

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 16 juillet 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783338627
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
COMPLETE CONTROL
A House of Erotica Collection



Publisher Information
Complete Control
published in 2014 by House of Erotica
an imprint of Andrews UK Limited
www.houseoferoticabooks.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © House of Erotica 2014
The rights of the authors have been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.



A Feast for His Eyes
Anna Sky
Would you be a human dessert tray at a private banquet? Lying perfectly still whilst covered in fleshy fruit, sticky honey and lashings of chocolate sauce was hard enough for one submissive, but then her Dom really turned up the heat.
He said I was a feast for his eyes. From sounds in the room, I knew there were others present; I could hear hushed voices and little rustles of movement. Sir wanted a banquet and he made me the centrepiece, his human salver. Only tonight, I wasn’t human, not for him or his guests. I was just an object, a platter for their delectation.
***
Preparations had begun earlier in the day. A seemingly innocent shopping trip procured us everything we needed. I giggled as we weaved around the supermarket together, piling our basket high with provisions. From the fruit aisle we picked strawberries, mangoes and peaches. I closed my eyes and shivered as I thought about their juicy pulp grazing my flesh. I couldn’t keep them open, what if someone could see what I was thinking? Crazy I know, but this was so new, so daring , that I wasn’t able to stop my mind from racing and to stay rational.
It didn’t help that Sir kept whispering into my ear. He told me all the things him and his guests were going to do to me, whilst I had to stay motionless despite their actions. I was forbidden to move or climax. It sent frissons of excitement through body; my nipples hardened and I could feel my pussy clenching.
Further round, he took great delight in throwing various objects into the basket; bamboo fondue skewers, drizzling honey and sticky chocolate sauce. Finally, he picked up a couple of bottles of champagne.
“This should do, shouldn’t it, little one?” he grinned at me, and we loaded our goods onto the conveyor to pay. It looked like the ingredients for a romantic picnic, and its ordinariness made me feel naughty, and so wet.
***
Sir had me prepare all the fruit. I washed, peeled and chopped and tell the truth, was glad of a menial task to take my mind off what was to come. I was nervous about the evening; I desperately wanted Sir to be proud of me, didn’t want to disappoint him in front of our guests. But the idea of my naked body being on display was a big step; one that he’d spent months preparing me for.
Popping a strawberry into my mouth when Sir wasn’t in the room, I closed my eyes and gently bit down. Quietly savouring the juicy texture, memories of summer picnics sprang to mind. I remembered warm days and long grass, and curling up together with Sir to snooze in the sun or read books together.
A small cough brought me back to the present. Sir stood in front of me, a mild look of amusement taking over his otherwise stern expression. “I thought I told you to prepare the food, little one, not devour it.”
I gulped; he had silently entered the room. “I’m sorry, Sir. I couldn’t help myself.” There was no point in lying or skirting round the truth; experience had taught me this much. My mind idly wondered what he was going to do. It wasn’t a serious offence and he was obviously amused by my theft.
“I think I should make your bottom as red as those strawberries. That would be a fitting punishment, wouldn’t it?” As he spoke, he man-handled me into position, not that I needed any persuasion to let him spank me. I found myself bent over the wooden kitchen table. The air hit my behind as Sir lifted my skirt and folded it into the small of my back, and a shiver ran through me when he hooked his finger under my panties and pulled them down.
I voluntarily stretched out my arms and found the far edge of the table. I grasped it, and the position pulled me taut, accentuating my bottom and thighs. Sir liked me like this, and often told me how sexy I was when on display to him. Breathing deeply, I waited for the first strike. It was never serious punishment with him when he spanked me. It was hard to punish a masochist like me, so he found other ways to really tell me off when he wanted to.
He struck the first blow, and I wriggled, part goading and part preparing myself for the next one. He picked up a hard, fast pace, alternating between each cheek. It was hard enough to make me focus on my breath to lessen the pain, and fast enough to prevent recovery in between blows. In no time at all, he had me squealing my apologies and begging him to stop. Sir gave me a few more for ‘good measure’ as he described it, and then stroked my reddened flesh.
“Your bottom is definitely the colour of those strawberries now, little one.” His voice was gentle and calm. I realised the spanking was just another ruse to help me prepare for the evening; it was a diversion for my over-active mind, and the hot, bruising feeling that I now felt, really worked to distract my thoughts from the task ahead.
***
“Are you ready, little one?” Sir called out to me from the bedroom, “I need to get your ready for our guests.” I was in the bathroom, finishing my preparations. He had expectations of how I was to present myself, and looking in the mirror, I mentally checked off my list for the last time, before joining him.
He led me into the dining room and helped me on to the sturdy oak table in the centre of the room. A small pillow supported my head and I lay naked, my bare skin in contact with the solid wood. Sir started by drizzling me in sticky honey. He dripped it over my breasts, belly and inner thighs, coating me in a golden shine. It was cold as I wriggled but it quickly warmed up.
Next, he teased me with the soft fleshy fruits, barely brushing them over my lips to give me a hint of flavour. He pulled the pieces away before I had chance to fully taste them, leaving me wanting more. Sir stroked mango slices and cut strawberries over the sensitive sides of my neck and across my inner wrists, all the pulse points. I could barely contain myself; it was hugely erotic and all I could feel was the insistent pulsing through my pussy.
Sir took a bite of strawberry, and with his mouth full of juice, laved my nipples with his tongue. It felt warm and sticky and knowing that I had to stay still for so long was torturous. The peach and mango slices were left over my body; they poked out from under my breasts, between my thighs and rested on my pubic mound. He insistently stroked his final piece over my clitoris, already swollen with lust. Sir popped it into his mouth with a wicked grin. “Delicious,” he murmured.
Finally, I felt the chocolate sauce crisscrossing my body, tiny rivulets spread across my chest and thighs, running down my breasts. I smelt of dessert; fruity and decadent. Sir picked up his camera and took photographs. “A momento of our evening,” he explained as he ducked low between my thighs to take yet another arty shot. I wondered what I looked like, lying full length coated in colours and textures, and knew not to be impatient; I would see the images soon enough.
“You look amazing,” he said, lowering his lips to mine. I kissed him back, tasting fruit, and a hint of myself. And then it went dark. He tied the blindfold round my face, leaving no gaps of light. I was in my own little world, decorated and ready for whatever came next.
The doorbell rang just a few moments later, Sir’s timing was impeccable. I heard him greet the first of the arrivals and I tried to recognise voices, but to no avail. We’d both agreed the details of my fantasy but I trusted the finer details, such as choosing guests, to him. Soon after, I guessed everyone had arrived as I heard whispers and small movements close by.
I took a deep breath to steel myself, and then it began. Just a small nudge or two initially, as they picked or ate fruit from my torso, but then the movements became more daring. The blindfold heightened my sensitivity making the slightest touch electric. Hands smeared fruit and sauces across me before I felt fingertips and tongues cleaning it up. The heavy throb in my pussy, pulsed ever harder until it echoed deafeningly throughout my body. I didn’t know how I could hold myself from orgasm, except Sir had forbidden it and I didn’t want to let him down.
Someone traced round my collarbone, following their fingers with their tongue. Little flickering movements lapped up the sticky mess. But I couldn’t focus on just that. Other digits, or were they tongues , were at my nipples, massaging them into hard peaks. And further down, someone else insistently pressed sticky juices into my thighs before painstakingly eating off every last piece of pulp. Nibbling and sucking mixed with stroking and kneading. I had no idea how many people were there; I was afloat in a sea of hands and fingers and mouths and lips.
I’d forgotten about the fondue skewers. Until I felt a sharp tip dragged across my belly. It wasn’t painful, but a totally different sensation from everything else. My breathing deepened as I desperately tried not to wriggle my torso out from under the firm pressure. It circled over my mon