Round 1, Match G: Sarah Young vs. Etta Stark

Here, in random order, are the stories--each of them is exactly 500 words long! Comments are moderated, and will be posted anonymously by me on the main blog, once the voting period is over. Judges, please remember to post according to the guidelines laid out in this post on the main blog.

Please come join in the fun at the Hot-Off Facebook event, to share your general and generous praise of the stories!

Story 1

Mid-morning light streamed into the unfamiliar bedroom. I’d met the guy, Sean, sleeping beside me less than twelve hours before, setting a record for the shortest time between first introduction and furiously ripping one another’s clothes off before partaking in mind blowing sex. Our first conversation had been basically “You know Gary too? Cool. What’s your name? Do you live nearby? Can we go back there? Like right now?”

He’d fucked me hard and fast and beautifully. I was sore all over and hoarse from coming. Afterwards we talked. Then fucked. Then talked. Then fucked. Apparently, sleep had featured at some point.

Sean opened one eye “Morning gorgeous,” he said pulling me into a hug. It was a very satisfactory cuddle ending with me breathlessly coming as Sean’s dexterous fingers played my cunt like a well tuned instrument.

Afterwards, I lay in bed and looked around his bedroom. It was much more stylish, light and understatedly artistic than I would have expected. The one thing that stood out was the door on the far wall. Unlike the rest of the modern decor, it was dark, old and slightly menacing. It looked like it had been transplanted there from a medieval castle.

“What’s on the other side of the door?” I asked.

“That’s my sex dungeon,” Sean said nonchalantly.

“What?” I asked, biting back a giggle. I had no idea if he was being serious or not.

He began kissing my naked breasts. “See the thing about me that you need to know,” he said in between kisses, “is that I really am a massively kinky bastard. Not that I didn’t love last night – I did, every minute of it – but just know I would love to bend you over a bench, tie you up and spank you until you scream. “

I swallowed. I felt like he had been inside my head looking at my secret sexual fantasies. All those BDSM books I read, full of situations that I fantasised over. How did he know?

“That sounds... hot,” I managed.

He rolled me over so that I was lying on my front and ran his fingers lightly over my backside. “I would love to take a cane to this wonderful arse of yours,” he said. “A dozen bright right stripes across here would suit it beautifully.”

“Are you going to show me your dungeon?” I asked.

Sean laughed. “Sorry, sexy. I was teasing you about that. I don’t really have a sex dungeon. That door just leads to a closet. I have no idea why the former owners decided to install a closet door like that.”

My heart sunk. Was it all a tease?

“I do have canes though.” he whispered in my ear. “If you still fancy it without the dungeon?”

“Fuck yes,” I said.

“Excellent.” He sat up on the bed. “Come on you. Over my lap. I think a hand spanking will start us off nicely. This is going to be a very interesting morning.”

Story 2

Alice jumped when she heard the door open behind her, the finality of the clicking lock causing her already shivering naked body to go ice cold. She couldn't see him with her forehead pressed against the wall, but she knew he was there, waiting. He didn't say a word, but she heard the clink of a belt buckle, the whoosh of several canes, the thump of him dropping a paddle onto the bed. 

Turning her face towards him, pleading, "Sir, please..." He snapped his fingers loudly and pointed to the wall. Obediently turning back, tears dripping off of her nose onto her thighs, she cried "I didn't mean to throw it! One second I was peacefully eating my dinner, and the next you were being grumpy about the food, and then your face was covered in, lumpy apparently, mashed potatoes, and I'm sorry, Sir!! So incredibly sorry!" Alice crumpled sobbing into her hands. 

Eventually, she felt herself being gathered in Louis' strong warm arms and carried over to the bed. "Baby, you're freezing!  I realize you didn't turn the heater on because I sent you straight to the corner, and that's my fault. Also, it wasn't my intention to "be grumpy" about the food, but I see my words really hurt you. I'm genuinely sorry that I caused you pain, precious girl." his voice steeled slightly, "However, you have many recourses for when I'm being a buffoon. Not one of them includes throwing things, including mashed potatoes. At. My. Face." Alice tried not to laugh, but remembering his face dripping mashed potatoes caused her mouth to quirk as she fought a smile. With a slight twinkle in his eye, but firmly, he continued, "I think you're warming up, so I'm going to continue that process. By starting a raging fire on your ass." Before she could protest he flipped her over his knees.

He started out with mild stinging swats across her cheeks. "I planned on a lengthy session to show you who's boss, but I can see that was my wounded pride.  Instead, you're only getting a hand spanking. But it's going to be a doozy."  With the word "doozy" the pain increased exponentially, fast and hard the swats turned into smacks, culminating in a relentless wall of heat. When Alice thought her poor bottom couldn't take any more, he moved down to her sit spots and thighs. With nothing to brace herself or grab onto she had no relief; nothing to diffuse the pain. She had to accept every blow as the fire built and the tears streamed. Punctuating key words with hard smacks Louis continued, "If I offend you, your job is to tell me. Even put a little spice into your speech, if needed, to get my attention. But throwing things is completely unacceptable and will not be tolerated. Is that clear, Little Girl?" Alice sobbed out a "Yes Sir!!", and Louis pulled her into his arms. He rocked and cuddled her until she fell asleep.

Round 1, Match F: Adaline Raine vs. JS Morbius

Hold onto your hats, judges, because we've got another actual competition, with two great stories!

Here, in random order, are the stories. Comments are moderated, and will be posted anonymously by me on the main blog, once the voting period is over. Judges, please remember to post according to the guidelines laid out in this post on the main blog.

Please come join in the fun at the Hot-Off Facebook event, to share your general and generous praise of the stories!

Story 1

Kaylin traced the old wooden door with her fingertips and trailed downwards, searching for a doorknob but found none. She dreamed about a dark cherry-wood one last night and though not usually inclined to fanciful whims followed the urge to search for it. Now here it stood without a way to enter.

“Of all the things...” She inhaled deeply then pictured it open and inviting. Kaylin held her arm straight out, closed her eyes and took a step.

To her immense surprise she entered into a dimly lit shop with bottles of all shapes, various sizes, some filled with glowing liquid in nearly every shade of the rainbow and more. She spied a purple bottle in the shape of tear drop and hesitantly wrapped her fingers around it.

“Just what the hell do you think you're doing!?” A grumpy, irritated voice cracked across the space while a decrepit man shambled towards her seemingly out of nowhere.

She startled then let go of the pretty amethyst vial and could only watch in horror as it smashed beautifully against the concrete floor. “Oh! I'm so sorry!”

“Do you know how much my potions are worth? How did you get in here? You stupid cow!”

She sobbed as the realization of what her breaking and entering then damaging goods would sound like to law enforcement. “I followed a dream!”

“Show me what you did to enter.” His voice cracked again and sounded even grumpier than before.

“I pictured coming through in my mind.” Kaylin shrugged and repeated her earlier actions. “I swear I'll pay you!”

“Tell me of this dream.” A much softer though deeper voice commanded.

She nodded through her tears than yanked her arm back as if burned. A tall, blond haired, muscled man stood where the old man had been seconds earlier. His eyes were a dazzling light blue that appeared to glow as if some mystical power lit them from inside and his ears were oddly pointed.

“How?”

“It's a spell but first explain.”

She couldn't take her eyes off him and simply shrugged. “I don't know.”

“Do you know what I do to women who force themselves into my sanctuary and destroy my goods?”

He touched the side of her hip and pulled her back into reality.

“No, what?” She squeaked as his fingers reached around and drummed against her bottom.

“They work off the cost of the broken items. But first,” his tone dipped lower, “they get punished.”

“Who are you? What punishment?” Kaylin inhaled sharply as he leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“I'm Eldrin and I mean physically.” He tapped his hand against each cheek to punctuate his message. “I cannot replicate the potion you spilled so we better get used to each other.”

“Great.” She replied now curious of his threat and for what plans he had in store.

Story 2

After four and three-quarter hours I finally saw the name of a road I recognized and quickly shoved my hand in to my pocket, to pull out the paper with the directions on. Placing the only things I'd brought with me carefully on the ground I unfolded the paper and glanced back and forth between the road sign and the directions a couple of times, before I finally convinced myself I was in the right place.

Taking a deep breath I slipped the paper back in to my pocket, picked up my items and began to walk down the road. Every few houses I turned to check the property number before carrying on until, about halfway down the street, I finally found the place I was looking for. The place I'd dreamed about entering every night for the last six months.

Placing my hand on the gate I lifted the catch, pushed it open and began to walk up the path. With the butterflies in my stomach doing somersaults I climbed the three steps separating me from my goal, lifted my hand and knocked, slightly harder than probably necessary, on the small pane of frosted glass in the centre of the heavy oak door. While I waited for someone to answer I glanced up and down the street, and saw more than one or two sets of curtains twitch, as if I was being watched.

Shrugging my shoulders I turned back to face the door at exactly the second it was swung open and we finally saw each other, in the flesh, for the first time. For what felt like hours neither of us spoke instead we just stood there staring at each other, neither of us knowing what to say, until you finally broke the ice.

“You came?”

“I promised you I would, and I never break my promises,” I replied, lifting my hand and offering you the roses. “These are for you.”

Slowly you lifted your hand and took the flowers from me.

“These are beautiful.”

It was then I noticed a small tear forming in the corner of one of your eyes.

“Hey what's wrong?” I asked, reaching for your hand.

“Nothing. I'm okay. Please come in.”

Stepping back you allowed me in before closing the door and turning back to me.

“I really didn't think you'd come.”

“Believe me, Kelly, nothing would have kept me away from your door today,” I replied, before wrapping my arms around your waist, pulling you close and kissing you for the first time. Nervously you pulled away, and looked up.

“What about, you know, my secret.”

“What about it?” I ask, pulling you as close as possible.

“Doesn't it bother you what people will say?”

“Fuck them. As far as I'm concerned you are the most perfect woman I have ever met, and just because you're transsexual makes no difference whatsoever.”

Round 1, Match E: Justine Hollander, bye

Just one story this week, I'm afraid--but it's soooo good! Judges, please do comment to tell Justine how much you loved her work! Comments are moderated, and will be posted anonymously by me on the main blog, once the voting period is over. Judges, please remember to post according to the guidelines laid out in this post on the main blog.

Please come join in the fun at the Hot-Off Facebook event, to share your general and generous praise of the stories!

Story 1

His usually expressive face stares at me, apparently stunned.

“You called it what?”

My face warms.  A flush takes over my normally fair and freckled skin.

“Door number three.”

Again, the stare.

“Seriously?”

I nod.

Just as I wonder whether Jack is having second thoughts about his new girlfriend, he smiles and pulls me back into his tight embrace.  My legs straddle his waist. His slick, crimson cock juts forward between my pussy lips.  Our bodies are covered in a sheen of sweat from a night of fucking; the air thick with the smell of sweat, sex, and the coffee roasters downstairs.

“Autumn, that’s the most fucking awesome term I’ve ever heard an asshole called.”

I’ve just revealed how my college roommates and I used to refer to mouth, pussy, and ass fucking.  Ten years later, I still can’t shake the expression.  Now, after three months of dating, and the same number of fingers having prepared my virgin hole, tonight i’m getting fucked in ‘door number three’.

Jack’s shown me the intimacy and eroticism to be found in anal play, and it excites him that he’ll be my first.

“Alright sweetheart, up you go.”

Strong hands lift me until my pussy sinks down over his thick, pulsing cock. Each inch grips his shaft, sending heat and tremors through my core as his thumb rubs my swollen, aching clit. Wetness coats his hips and my thighs as we slap together in a frenzied rhythm.

“Now, Jack.  Please!”

I roll on my back, but he turns me over.

“Sweetheart, I wish I could watch your eyes, but this’ll feel better for you from behind.”

Quickly i’m on my knees, ass in the air, my head resting on my hands.

“Aaauuggghhh,” I cry out as his tongue slides up the length of my crack before zeroing in on my twitching ring.  It always feels like the first time when his tongue rims me, lighting up every nerve just inside.

I hear the click of lube being opened, followed by the slick sounds of him stroking himself.

One finger, then two, easily glide past the snug ring as hot lips kiss and suck the flesh of my pale cheeks.  His fingers stroke in and out, alternating between twisting and scissoring. It feels incredible, but I beg for more.

Without pause, he enters me with little resistance, groaning as he does.  I inhale sharply as my body yields to the stretch and pressure. He pulls out, before sinking in again.  The sensation of his length penetrating so deep inside of me sends tremors through my spine.  Together, a rhythm, almost a dance, rises between us until his hips touch against my cheeks as we gasp and grunt with every stroke.

Wet fingers reach under, finding my clit, pinching and rubbing it hard until I explode, bucking against him, as his seed pulses deep inside of me.

Collapsing on the bed together, wet, sticky and sated, we laugh, planning our next adventure through ‘door number three’.

Round 1, Match D: Tara Crescent vs. Livia Grant

Here, in random order, are the stories. Comments are moderated, and will be posted anonymously by me on the main blog, once the voting period is over. Judges, please remember to comment according to the guidelines laid out in this post on the main blog.

Please come join in the fun at the Hot-Off Facebook event, to share your general and generous praise of the stories!

Story 1: A Close Call

"I'm so disappointed in you, young lady. You know the rules, and yet you flagrantly break them at every turn.  I got not one, but two complaints about the unusual sounds coming from your room last night.  You may be able to fool the innocent, young women around you, but don't think I don't know you had your boyfriend in here again.  I know you were fornicating."

Chrissy tries not to giggle at the way Ms. Dodds always says the word fornicating.  As uptight as the dowdy woman is, Chrissy suspects the forty year-old woman has yet to fornicate - ever.  Instead, it seems her sole passion in life is preventing the young women in her charge from having any fun whatsoever.

Not for the first time, Chrissy curses being forced by her ultra conservative parents to attend their alma mater.   Saint Agnes College is the most conservative private college in existence.  It's a miracle she and her brother were ever born, considering how uptight her parents are about sex. She wouldn't be surprised if they'd had sex exactly three times:  their wedding night to consummate their union, and once each to produce their offspring.  

Chrissy is jarred back to the lecture in progress, courtesy of the matronly women's dorm jailer.

"You know perfectly well no males are allowed in this building.  Parents have entrusted the virtue of their daughters to me.  Don't make me have engineering install a security camera.  I've done that before when I had a particularly persistent young woman determined to throw her innocence away.  That was over a year ago and as expected, she was caught sneaking in a particularly unsavory fellow with tattoos.   If she's lucky, she's just now able to sit on her bruised bottom after the severe paddling she received from Professor Fulton.   After she was expelled, her parents came to collect her.  Her father paddled her again in front of her friends to make an example of her.  I've met your parents, missy.  I'm sure they'll agree the paddle is the best course of action for a floozy like their daughter."

Chrissy learned long ago the fastest way to stop the lecture is submission.  "Yes, Ma'am."  

Finally, Ms. Dodds moves to the door and with a final glare, stomps out, slamming it shut.  Chrissy barely has time to heave a sigh of relief before a large hand grasps her ankle, squeezing hard.

"Jimmy, stop it!  That was too close.  I told you, from now on, we're doing this at your place."    

Chrissy's hunky boyfriend struggles to extricate himself from his hiding place under her bed.  The second he's free, Chrissy is thrown to the bed, trapped beneath his muscular body.

She's grateful he's whispering.  "All the talk of blistering your ass with a paddle has me so turned on, baby."   Without warning, Jimmy is buried deep inside her.

The last coherent thought Chrissy has before tipping into bliss is how much she loves fornicating.

Story 2: 

I hear the whoosh of the whip before I see it. It makes contact with my body and I watch my skin redden in response. My breathing quickens; I stifle a moan. This is everything I’ve always wanted. Everything I’ve secretly hoped for. Yet, this is so unexpected.

***

Earlier that evening…

“You realize I’ve never been to your house before?” I tease Anton. We’ve been dating for three months, and I’m beginning to fall in love. My emotions have that sparkle of excitement that a new relationship always brings. Everything’s hopeful. Everything’s filled with possibility.

“Perhaps I’m hiding deep, dark secrets,” he replies. Though he sounds amused, there’s an undercurrent of something dark in his voice.

“Are you?” I ask seriously. “Because I am.”

His lips twitch. He opens his front door and gestures me in, flipping on the entryway light as we walk in. “What secrets are you hiding, Lily?” His body moves against mine, pushing me against the wall. His hands envelop mine and hold me captive. I can feel the weight of his arousal pressing against my body. This man wants me.

“Is it,” his lips caress a tender spot at my neck, before nipping sharply, “that you need to tell me that you want to be spanked? Possessed? Taken by me, succumbing to my control?”

I gape at him, shocked. “How?” I would have sworn that I’d kept my desires hidden, waiting for the right point in our fledging relationship to tell him what I needed from him sexually.

“Sweet Lily,” his lips kiss a path from my neck down to the swell of my breasts, “you can’t take your eyes off my belt. When my hand caresses your ass, you tense, waiting for a spank.” His mouth grinds into mine. “Is this what you want? To give up control?”

We’ve been dating for three months, and trust has built in that time. I nod. “Yes.”

He studies me with his dark, dark eyes. Then he takes my hand in his, and leads me down the hallway.

***

“Walk through the door.”

“What’s on the other side?” I bite my lip nervously.

“Your fantasies, brought to life.”

“Are all fantasies meant to be brought to life?”

He eyes me. “How will you know, until you try?”

My hand reaches for the doorknob.

***

And here I am, in Anton’s dungeon. I’m strapped to a St. Andrews Cross, facing him. My breasts bulge as a result of the strands of rope he’s carefully wound around them. My nipples ache from a pair of nipple clamps, with little bells on them that chime every time I twitch.

I face outward, and his eyes run over every inch of my body. Desire dances on my skin, for this man, for what he could make me feel, and for the unknown nature of what lies ahead.

“If you wish to continue,” he says, “you’ll need to beg. Tell me you submit.”

My eyes meet his. “I submit, Master.”