Black Light: Wanted
Excerpt By Maren Smith
Available at: Amazon (and on Kindle Unlimited!)
“Do you want this to be a punishment?” He tweaked her nipples harder, and her hips took on a life of their own, grinding to make the dildo move. Her breath caught, her throat tightening to keep back another moan.
Letting go, he captured a fistful of her hair instead and wrenched her head back, forcing her to meet his stare.
“Do you,” he repeated, softly, dangerously, every nuance charged with an eroticism that made the walls of her core contract on the pseudo cock inside her, “want me to punish you?”
No. Never.
“Yes,” she whimpered.
He tipped his head. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile as he reached down between her legs to take hold of the glass cock in her pussy. She knew she was every bit as wet as she suspected when he stopped, glanced down, and then knowingly locked eyes with her again.
He tsked. “Naughty, naughty, girl. I was going to fuck you with this.” He pumped the dildo, and all she could feel was the cold and the fullness of having two cocks hitting all the right spots as he thrust. “Now I think I need to do something else.”
He plucked the one from her pussy, robbing her of that blessed fullness and dropped the dildo back in the ice water.
Her arousal was unbearable. So was her fear that he would pour the icy water from the vase all over her, but he picked up the batons instead, plucking them from the glass where they had absorbed the alcohol. His warm hand caressed up her torso from her mons, to her breasts, and finally her neck.
She had no personal experience with fire writing, but seeing him with the batons in his hand didn’t frighten her. The ease with which he had them tucked between his first and last fingers, the alcohol-soaked swabs positioned as far as possible apart, said he had more than enough experience to keep her safe.
He lit the first swab on the candle, and the palm of his other hand swept another wandering path over her breasts and belly, caressing the canvas he was about to paint. Through the ice, she had been so distracted by the cold that she hadn’t noticed the crowd that was gathering, but she noticed them now.
Shadowy figures jockeyed for the best vintages from which to watch as he lowered the unlit swap to tap her nipple. The pungent smell of alcohol and the coolness of the damp on her breast was grounding, but only until he flipped his hand and tapped the lit baton to the same spot.
Heat and flame ignited on her nipple a heartbeat before he brushed it out with his open hand. He paused, smile softening as he looked at her. “Was that terrible?”
“No, Sir.”
“Where are you at?”
“Green,” she answered, staring in wonder at her breast. It hadn’t hurt. Not even a little. She’d barely even felt the heat.
Flipping to the unlit baton, he snaked an invisible ‘s’ in rubbing alcohol between her breasts, then lit it. Racing flames followed the pattern he’d drawn before he brushed it out again. This time the heat stayed in her skin, a sharp contrast to the cold of her back and the icy pool her ass was in. It was pretty. It was warm too, but again it didn’t burn, and once the flame was out, the only sensation that lingered was a faint tingling that might have been nothing more than her hyper awareness of his caressing hand in all the nerves eager for it beneath her skin.
“Still green?” he asked.
She nodded.
“All right, let’s get down to business.”
Her heart fluttered as she watched him draw a jagged bolt of lightning down her stomach, and set it aflame. Her stomach was more sensitive than her breasts, the heat stung even after he’d brushed it out, although only as badly as the snap of a rubber band.
He drew the straight line of an arrow pointing unerring down to her mons and her back arched as the heat got stronger when he set it on fire, not once, but three times. He brushed out each new flame before lighting her up again, drawing squiggles down her thighs, setting the tops of each foot briefly on fire, and then returning to her chest to do the same for each breast. Turning, he extinguished the burning baton and dropped them both on the small table, then selected the newly chilled dildo once more.
She groaned as he let the excess water drip onto her breasts and belly. The shock of cold where she had just been so warm was a hell in and of itself. It felt beautiful, especially in the places he’d set on fire more than once, leaving her skin as sensitive as if she’d been mildly sunburned.
“Spread your legs.”
She hadn’t realized she’d pulled them closed. Knowing how cold it was going to be, she grabbed the table with both hands and obeyed.
“Ah!” If anything, it was even colder than before. She felt fuller too, stretched to accept not a slow penetrating thrust, but motions that were harder now. Deeper and more demanding. Conquering. Claiming her pussy with a cock that felt more like an icicle.
“No!” Except no wasn’t what she meant at all.
“Color?” he demanded.
“Green!”
He spanked her mons, punishing her tender clit, and fucked her harder.
“Noo-oo!” She covered her traitorous mouth with both hands, but he spread her folds with his fingers and bent, capturing her clit in the overwhelming heat of his mouth.
“God!”
He devoured her, lashing and licking without mercy, nibbling with his lips and even gently his teeth. He had her on the verge of wildness. She nearly climbed the length of the table before he pinned her down. Hooking the bases of both dildoes, he held them the same way he’d done the batons and fucked her with both at once.
He wouldn’t tell her to come, but oh how she wanted him to. She wanted to yield that control and gift him with the impending result.
“Please!” she wailed.
He stopped, slapping her pussy and rubbing hard before taking his hand away. “On your belly. Don’t lose the dildoes.”
That was easier said than done. She was so wet now and her pussy was clenching rhythmically, needing the orgasm he’d just denied her. She’d also squirmed so far up the table that her head was almost hanging off it. She tried to scoot down, but he stopped her. He picked up the flash cotton and the feather soft brush of it trailed down her back. He lay two paths over the summits of both ass cheeks, all he way down onto the backs of her thighs to the infamous sit spots.
“Don’t move,” he told her. “No matter what, don’t move. It’s going to be intense. Can you handle it?”
She nodded.
“Are you ready?”
She nodded again, but everything was concentrated on the hard cold cocks inside her and her desperation for him to start fucking her again. Right up until he came around to the head of the table and unbuckled his pants.
“Open,” he ordered.
She lunged the instant his cock came into view. His grip on her hair was the cake, but his cum would be the icing and she swallowed as much of him as she could get into her mouth.
Could she drive him as crazy as he’d made her? She didn’t know, but she was determined to find out. Only he was almost too much. He hit the back of her throat, tripping gag reflexes she’d thought she’d tamed a long time ago. He didn’t withdraw, but cupped the back of her head, steadily choking her until the tears were pouring down her face and the lack of air made stars burst in her eyes. He pulled out, letting her suck and gasp for air, before forcing his way back into her mouth and starting all over again.
She was not in control. Not even just a little, and her pussy loved it.
She never saw it when he picked up the candle, but she heard the sizzling flash of ignition and felt the searing heat suddenly race down her back, ignite on her ass, and snap across the backs of her tender thighs with all the focused intensity of a cane strike.
She’d have shouted if not for his cock in her throat. She’d have jumped up too, but his hand on the back of her head held her down.
It was just a flash and done, but the lingering sting of that searing heat remained, flaring hotter the way spankings so often did, before just as swiftly dying back to nothing but a tingle.
Releasing her head, he pulled out of her mouth. Before she could catch her breath, he had the glass cock ripped from her body and was up on the table with her.
She tried to get her knees under her, but he swatted her bottom and straddled her thighs. The hard jab of his prodding cock nudged against her ass as she grabbed the table. Yanking her head back with her own hair, he said hot against her ear, “Take it and cum.”
He shoved, and she did, shouting as she came. He broke her, but he did it beautifully. Savagely. ‘Bum’ leg or not. Claiming this last part of her like exactly what he was, the man she now belonged to.
A man worth having.
A man who truly wanted her.
Letting go, he captured a fistful of her hair instead and wrenched her head back, forcing her to meet his stare.
“Do you,” he repeated, softly, dangerously, every nuance charged with an eroticism that made the walls of her core contract on the pseudo cock inside her, “want me to punish you?”
No. Never.
“Yes,” she whimpered.
He tipped his head. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile as he reached down between her legs to take hold of the glass cock in her pussy. She knew she was every bit as wet as she suspected when he stopped, glanced down, and then knowingly locked eyes with her again.
He tsked. “Naughty, naughty, girl. I was going to fuck you with this.” He pumped the dildo, and all she could feel was the cold and the fullness of having two cocks hitting all the right spots as he thrust. “Now I think I need to do something else.”
He plucked the one from her pussy, robbing her of that blessed fullness and dropped the dildo back in the ice water.
Her arousal was unbearable. So was her fear that he would pour the icy water from the vase all over her, but he picked up the batons instead, plucking them from the glass where they had absorbed the alcohol. His warm hand caressed up her torso from her mons, to her breasts, and finally her neck.
She had no personal experience with fire writing, but seeing him with the batons in his hand didn’t frighten her. The ease with which he had them tucked between his first and last fingers, the alcohol-soaked swabs positioned as far as possible apart, said he had more than enough experience to keep her safe.
He lit the first swab on the candle, and the palm of his other hand swept another wandering path over her breasts and belly, caressing the canvas he was about to paint. Through the ice, she had been so distracted by the cold that she hadn’t noticed the crowd that was gathering, but she noticed them now.
Shadowy figures jockeyed for the best vintages from which to watch as he lowered the unlit swap to tap her nipple. The pungent smell of alcohol and the coolness of the damp on her breast was grounding, but only until he flipped his hand and tapped the lit baton to the same spot.
Heat and flame ignited on her nipple a heartbeat before he brushed it out with his open hand. He paused, smile softening as he looked at her. “Was that terrible?”
“No, Sir.”
“Where are you at?”
“Green,” she answered, staring in wonder at her breast. It hadn’t hurt. Not even a little. She’d barely even felt the heat.
Flipping to the unlit baton, he snaked an invisible ‘s’ in rubbing alcohol between her breasts, then lit it. Racing flames followed the pattern he’d drawn before he brushed it out again. This time the heat stayed in her skin, a sharp contrast to the cold of her back and the icy pool her ass was in. It was pretty. It was warm too, but again it didn’t burn, and once the flame was out, the only sensation that lingered was a faint tingling that might have been nothing more than her hyper awareness of his caressing hand in all the nerves eager for it beneath her skin.
“Still green?” he asked.
She nodded.
“All right, let’s get down to business.”
Her heart fluttered as she watched him draw a jagged bolt of lightning down her stomach, and set it aflame. Her stomach was more sensitive than her breasts, the heat stung even after he’d brushed it out, although only as badly as the snap of a rubber band.
He drew the straight line of an arrow pointing unerring down to her mons and her back arched as the heat got stronger when he set it on fire, not once, but three times. He brushed out each new flame before lighting her up again, drawing squiggles down her thighs, setting the tops of each foot briefly on fire, and then returning to her chest to do the same for each breast. Turning, he extinguished the burning baton and dropped them both on the small table, then selected the newly chilled dildo once more.
She groaned as he let the excess water drip onto her breasts and belly. The shock of cold where she had just been so warm was a hell in and of itself. It felt beautiful, especially in the places he’d set on fire more than once, leaving her skin as sensitive as if she’d been mildly sunburned.
“Spread your legs.”
She hadn’t realized she’d pulled them closed. Knowing how cold it was going to be, she grabbed the table with both hands and obeyed.
“Ah!” If anything, it was even colder than before. She felt fuller too, stretched to accept not a slow penetrating thrust, but motions that were harder now. Deeper and more demanding. Conquering. Claiming her pussy with a cock that felt more like an icicle.
“No!” Except no wasn’t what she meant at all.
“Color?” he demanded.
“Green!”
He spanked her mons, punishing her tender clit, and fucked her harder.
“Noo-oo!” She covered her traitorous mouth with both hands, but he spread her folds with his fingers and bent, capturing her clit in the overwhelming heat of his mouth.
“God!”
He devoured her, lashing and licking without mercy, nibbling with his lips and even gently his teeth. He had her on the verge of wildness. She nearly climbed the length of the table before he pinned her down. Hooking the bases of both dildoes, he held them the same way he’d done the batons and fucked her with both at once.
He wouldn’t tell her to come, but oh how she wanted him to. She wanted to yield that control and gift him with the impending result.
“Please!” she wailed.
He stopped, slapping her pussy and rubbing hard before taking his hand away. “On your belly. Don’t lose the dildoes.”
That was easier said than done. She was so wet now and her pussy was clenching rhythmically, needing the orgasm he’d just denied her. She’d also squirmed so far up the table that her head was almost hanging off it. She tried to scoot down, but he stopped her. He picked up the flash cotton and the feather soft brush of it trailed down her back. He lay two paths over the summits of both ass cheeks, all he way down onto the backs of her thighs to the infamous sit spots.
“Don’t move,” he told her. “No matter what, don’t move. It’s going to be intense. Can you handle it?”
She nodded.
“Are you ready?”
She nodded again, but everything was concentrated on the hard cold cocks inside her and her desperation for him to start fucking her again. Right up until he came around to the head of the table and unbuckled his pants.
“Open,” he ordered.
She lunged the instant his cock came into view. His grip on her hair was the cake, but his cum would be the icing and she swallowed as much of him as she could get into her mouth.
Could she drive him as crazy as he’d made her? She didn’t know, but she was determined to find out. Only he was almost too much. He hit the back of her throat, tripping gag reflexes she’d thought she’d tamed a long time ago. He didn’t withdraw, but cupped the back of her head, steadily choking her until the tears were pouring down her face and the lack of air made stars burst in her eyes. He pulled out, letting her suck and gasp for air, before forcing his way back into her mouth and starting all over again.
She was not in control. Not even just a little, and her pussy loved it.
She never saw it when he picked up the candle, but she heard the sizzling flash of ignition and felt the searing heat suddenly race down her back, ignite on her ass, and snap across the backs of her tender thighs with all the focused intensity of a cane strike.
She’d have shouted if not for his cock in her throat. She’d have jumped up too, but his hand on the back of her head held her down.
It was just a flash and done, but the lingering sting of that searing heat remained, flaring hotter the way spankings so often did, before just as swiftly dying back to nothing but a tingle.
Releasing her head, he pulled out of her mouth. Before she could catch her breath, he had the glass cock ripped from her body and was up on the table with her.
She tried to get her knees under her, but he swatted her bottom and straddled her thighs. The hard jab of his prodding cock nudged against her ass as she grabbed the table. Yanking her head back with her own hair, he said hot against her ear, “Take it and cum.”
He shoved, and she did, shouting as she came. He broke her, but he did it beautifully. Savagely. ‘Bum’ leg or not. Claiming this last part of her like exactly what he was, the man she now belonged to.
A man worth having.
A man who truly wanted her.