THE FINALS! Story-Post! A vs. B and X vs. Y! Super-Spectacular!

This tournament has succeeded unreasonably, I think. That's entirely owing to the skill of the writers and the faithfulness of the judges. I can't express my gratitude nearly enough, but I want to try: thank you for everything you've done. In particular, thank you to these four writers: in alphabetical order, Tara Crescent, Justine Hollander, Will LaForge, and Etta Stark. You certainly brought your A-game to this final round, as everyone can read below!

This post presents four stories, divided into two matches, and thus brings the Hot-Off to its super-spectacular conclusion. The writers in one match are competing for the fabulous prize of a featured spot on Selena Kitt's blog (and more importantly the adulation of countless fans). The writers in the other match are competing for third place, and of course the attendant bragging rights.

I'm the only person who knows which match is which.

Judges, please vote for your choice of the hottest story in each match--to be clear, I'm looking for two separate votes: one for each match. As usual, comments are moderated, and will be posted anonymously by me on the main blog, once the voting period for the final round is over, this Friday. 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!

Match A

Story 1

“Do it,” she wailed.

“No, Khy, I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

She rolled her eyes skyward. “What-the-hell-ever, Vincent. You’ve wanted to hurt me from the moment we started this mating dance almost a year ago. Your mouth lies, but the way your cock is throbbing in your pants tells me the truth.”

His eyes roamed the playroom they’d rented in Club Sanctuary then settled on the instrument of pain behind her. “Are you sure this is what you need, what we both need?”

Khy desperately wanted to please this man. It was something instinctive that dwelled deep within her. She wanted to show him what happiness meant, she wanted to mend his broken pieces, and maybe they could heal each other.

“Vincent, I’m sure the masochist in me needs to have my demons beaten from me. I’m also sure the savage beast inside you craves to see me writhing in pain, so you can tend to my aftercare. But if you lack the courage to step up to the plate, then I’m also sure I can find someone else to take care of me tonight.”

He growled. “No. You are mine. Take off your clothes.”

A tidal wave of anticipation crested inside her. In a blink, she stood proudly before him in panties, garter and hose. “Do you want me to take off my panties, too?”

He didn’t answer, just tore the lace off. She shivered as she watched him pull the belt from his pants. He spun her around and pushed her against the St. Andrew’s Cross. Tension fled her body as he fastened her spread-eagled in the restraints.

“Sir, I…”

Pain slammed her mouth shut, and tears sprung to her eyes as fire ignited on her ass. Vincent strapped her with confident strokes.

“What’s the color?”

She breathed deeply, willing herself to relax as she sought succorance in the pain. “Green, Sir.”

Heat flared every place the belt struck. Her nipples ached and her clit pulsed. The harder he lashed her, the freer she felt, as though all her fears and torments were being driven from her body. Each strike pushed her closer to an orgasm and her pussy clenched in expectation.

Vincent pressed his body against her and whispered in her ear, “Come for me, Khy…come now.”

He hooked two fingers inside her and pressed against her G-spot. Rapture exploded inside her and she drowned in pleasure, each spasm of her climax an ecstasy onto itself. Her whole body contracted as ripples of orgasmic pleasure shook her to the depths of her core

“Oh, my God, I’m coming. Sweet Mother of Mercy, I’m coming.” She came hard, the longest and most intense orgasm of her life.

Her body trembled with aftershocks as he freed her arms and legs. “Thank you, Sir.”

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the cot in the corner of the room. “You’re welcome. Now let’s see about your aftercare.”

Story 2: The Cable Car

Julianna tried to calm herself as she entered the tram. She’d grown more confident with each day of travel through Italy, but taking the Malcesine cableway from Lake Garda took another level of courage altogether.

Her divorce left her shattered - her confidence as a woman crushed. A friend suggested a solo trip to ‘find herself’. Julianna chose Italy.

She was pleased to share the car with only one other passenger - a handsome man who smiled before opening his book. As they ascended the mountain, the beautiful view distracted her from her nerves, but suddenly the car slowed to a halt. The man seemed unfazed, but Julianna jumped as the tram began to sway in the wind.

“Saremo bene.”

She didn’t know the words, but his voice was comforting. He moved closer, offering a flask. The fiery liquid burned as she swallowed, helping her to relax. Without words, the flask passed between them. When their fingers touched, sparks of passion shot through her body. The fire in his eyes confirmed that he felt it too.

A drop of liquor escaped her lips. The stranger reached forward, his finger catching the droplet.

“Aperto.”

Her mouth dropped open as he pressed his finger in. Julianna sucked, running her tongue under the calloused pad. His moan of pleasure ignited long dormant desires from deep within.

His wet finger trailed from her lips to her chest. He looked to her for permission before releasing the tie around her neck. She wore no bra. His gaze lingered on her breasts before kissing the sensitive flesh reverently.

Julianna moaned as his wet tongue circled the rosy peak before sucking it deep into his mouth. Reaching between firm thighs, she grasped his hardness through his shorts, massaging with slow strokes. Groans vibrated against her skin.

They stood and removed each other’s clothing - hands and mouths exploring every inch. Blushing, Julianna pulled out a condom she’d only hoped to use on her vacation.

“Sei bella.” he whispered.

She rolled the condom down his length before he sat on the bench. Julianna straddled the handsome stranger, lowering herself slowly. Wetness lubricated the passage as her pussy stretched around his cock. His hands gripped her hips as she set a slow and languid rhythm.

No longer able to hold back, her gasps and moans filled the air as she bucked above him, enjoying Italian murmurs against her neck. When he reached between them and rubbed fast and firm circles over her clit, Julianna exploded with a cry, soon followed by his own.

Collapsed against him, his strong arms tight around her waist, Julianna had never felt so sated. The moment was fleeting, though, as the car began to move. In a flurry they scrambled for their clothing, becoming decent just as the car approached the station. As the doors opened, their eyes locked, but neither stood to leave. The station attendant shrugged as the doors closed and the two began their descent down the mountain.

Julianna pulled out a second condom.

Match B

Story 1

‘We can watch or we can play.’

For years I’d ignored the chemistry between us, telling myself that our friendship was worth far more than a sexual fling. Yet one night, during an alcohol-laced poker game, I’d suggested visiting my BDSM club as a jest. Surprisingly, Jess had been game.

Now in the club, her eyes sparkled. I could see the outline of her nipples poke through her thin cotton t-shirt. She was turned on.

I’d voiced the question and I waited for her reply. Unless she too wanted this, I didn’t want to push.

She took a deep breath. “I want to play, Andrew.”

Really? My cock leapt to instant attention. With unseemly haste, I hustled her to a private room, stripped her to her fire-engine red lace bra and thong. I buckled her to the restraints, that lush ass sticking out. She looked good enough to eat.

“My safeword is courage.”

“Courage it is.” I caressed the tails of a flogger over her back. “This won’t hurt much,” I reassured her. “It’s made of suede.”

I wanted to bend her over a table and fuck her senseless. Instead, I swung the flogger over her ass and watched her globes redden. “How was that, rabbit?”

She thrust her butt out at me in invitation. “Good, Sir,” she whispered.

Whoa, where did the Sir come from?

The crotch of her panties was plastered to her skin. She was so wet. “If you can take ten strokes, you can ask for a reward.” My voice was hoarse with need.

Another nod. I listened for her safeword; it didn’t appear. Each time the flogger touched her skin, she whimpered in pleasure.

When I set her free, she sank gracefully to her knees, her hands reaching for my belt buckle. “I want my reward,” she purred.

My cock was rock hard. The idea of her pretty lips wrapped around it was so tempting, but right now, I’d last two strokes before blowing my load. Not since I was a teenager had I been this close this quickly.

You try flogging a half-naked girl who has played a starring role in your sexual fantasies for years and see how long you last.

“Let’s continue this at home,” I suggested.

“A bed would be nice,” she agreed. We got dressed and made our way out. At the exit, the bouncer gave her a friendly wave. “See you next week, Jess,” he said.

The bouncer knew her? What the fuck?

I turned towards her. “I followed you here one night,” she confessed. “I’ve been a member for a while.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to summon up the courage to make a move on you.”

“You little minx.” The whole thing had been a set up.

“You aren’t angry?”

I held her close as we walked. “No,” I said, “but you are definitely going to get punished.”

“Good,” she exclaimed, then she flushed. “I mean, Yes Sir.”

Sweet Jess. I could only laugh.

Story 2: “Courage”

“Courage is the most important thing in business,” intoned Keith Allsop, Head of Strategic Marketing, “We must be brave enough to do what needs to be done.”

Carolyn suppressed a yawn. It felt like the Company Meeting had been going on for days already. She wasn’t looking forward to a monotonous hour on ‘synergizing corporate goals’.

She looked across the boardroom table at her colleague, Andy. He immediately caught her eye and winked. Carolyn felt the blood rush to her face; she hoped didn’t look as flushed as she felt. God, he was hot. The memory of exactly what the two of them had got up to in his hotel room the night before was still fresh in her mind. Best sex ever.

After sixty interminable minutes, the meeting broke for lunch. As Carolyn headed for the door, Andy quickly fell into step with her. “You got a moment?” he asked, indicating a side corridor with a nod of his head. Carolyn was conscious of Keith Allsop out of the corner of her eye, bearing down her, looking like he planned to engage her in conversation.

“Sure,” she said quickly.

Andy opened the door to a small interview room and ushered Carolyn inside. “I thought we could continue what we started last night,” he said, cupping her face with his hand and drawing her towards him for a lingering, soft kiss.

“In here? What if someone comes in?”

“Are you scared?” asked Andy with a smile. “Remember what Allsop said, “Courage is the most important thing. We must be brave enough to do what needs to be done”

“And what needs to be done?” asked Carolyn.

“You.”

Andy spun Carolyn round and bent her over the desk. He pushed her tight black business skirt above her waist and slipped his fingers inside her lacy red thong. “Very nice,” he said pushing against her moist slit. “You feel ready for me already.”

Carolyn moaned and pushed back against his hand. “Fuck, yeah.”

“You naughty, naughty girl,” said Andy approvingly. He drew back his hand and landed a flurry of short hard spanks on Carolyn’s backside. The sharp pain and rising heat made her moan with pleasure. She needed to feel Andy’s cock inside her, like she had last night.

She shuddered with expectation as she heard unzipping. And then wonderfully, felt Andy’s thick member filling her, pumping into her vigorously. She came suddenly, explosively, gripping onto the desk as Andy reached his climax inside her.

Ten minutes later, clothes tidily rearranged, hair in place, although slightly more flushed than before, Carolyn was back in the boardroom. The Chair was introducing the next speaker.

“Carolyn Courage, owner and CEO of Courage Industries.” he announced.

Carolyn took her place behind the podium, flashing a smile at her employees in general and at Andy, the sexy new intern in particular. “Good afternoon, team,” she said. “As my colleague, Keith, mentioned earlier, the most important thing in business is the willingness to embrace new opportunities...”

Round 3, Match B: Justine Hollander vs. Etta Stark

We're halfway through the semis, featuring the required word "fork"! I'm going to hold onto the results until the final round is over: next week you can expect four stories from our semi-finalists. Two will be competing for the grand prize, and two will be competing for third place (aka the bronze)--but even the writers won't know with whom they're competing, or for which result!

Comments are moderated, and will be posted anonymously by me on the main blog, once the voting period for the final round 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

“That’s a weird technique,” I said. “Do all Americans do it like that?”

Dean frowned at me across the table. “What do you mean?”

“That weird fork thing you do. You have your fork in your left hand while cutting your food, then you switch it over to your right hand to eat. It looks really odd.”

“What do you Brits do?”

“Keep the fork in our left hands, of course. Like civilised people.”

“Civilised people, huh?” Dean smiled.

“Absolutely. Want me to give you a lesson in proper British table etiquette?”

“That depends. Want me to give you a lesson in proper American over-the-knee spanking techniques?”

I dropped my fork in shock and it clattered noisily onto my plate. Had he really just said that? On our fourth date? Colour rushed to my cheeks.

“You know what, sweetie? I actually think you do.” said Dean.

“I.. I..” I begun, my grasp of words having deserted me. “Um, yes,”

“ I’d hate to disappoint a lady,” said Dean, pushing his chair away from the table. He patted his lap. “Over you go, princess.”

Shaking, I stood up and placed myself over Dean’s lap. He was a big guy. Six foot five of broad shouldered muscle, the thought of submitting to him was exhilarating. We were still getting to know one another, having only met a handful of times before. We hadn’t even had sex together yet. What on earth had given him the clue that spanking was my all time sexual fantasy? Maybe it had been a lucky guess.

He pushed my skirt up to my waist, drew back his hand and delivered a hard, stinging swat to the seat of my knickers. I yelped.

“If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” said Dean.

“I don’t want you to stop” I mumbled, staring down at the carpet.

“That’s what I like to hear,” said Dean pulling my panties to my thighs and raining a series of hard spanks onto my naked bottom. It hurt like hell; it was amazing. I was so wet I was practically dripping. He spanked me until my backside was sore and throbbing and burning hot. I squirmed on his lap, rubbing my crotch against his trouser leg.

“You needed that, didn’t you?” he said, slipping his finger inside me and rubbing my clit. I moaned. The spanking had brought me so close to orgasm; I’d only need the slightest touch to push me over the edge.

“Shall we take this into the bedroom?” whispered Dean

“God, yes.”

“Unless you’d prefer to teach me some finer points of British etiquette instead?”

I looked over my shoulder at him from my position across his knees. “Well, there’s your appalling pronunciation of the word aluminium,” I said. “That could do with some correcting.”

Dean chuckled, spanking me four more times, hard on my already tender backside. “The only person round here who needs correcting is you. And you know it. Come on, sassy, let’s get you naked.”

Story 2

How long is he going to drone on about himself?

Fiona picked at her meal, not believing she’d harbored a crush on Matthew for six months. This was their third date and he’d yet to ask what she did for a living.

Absentmindedly spearing her broccoli, she watched as her fork, as if in slow motion, escaped her hand with an impressive backflip before crashing to the floor. Fiona sighed as she reached down to pick it up - instead making contact with the rugged hand of the man from the booth behind her as he, too, attempted to retrieve the errant cutlery. Her eyes met his after the touch sent an unexpected shiver through her.

Paul!

A thousand questions screamed for answers, but Fiona only gasped as his hazel eyes seared into hers. He gave her hand a quick squeeze before wordlessly turning back to his companions. Matthew appeared oblivious as Fiona’s heart slammed in her chest.

Paul rose behind her and walked towards the restrooms, stopping briefly to give her a quick nod.

“Excuse me!”

Fiona jumped from her chair, her napkin joining the fork that remained on the floor. Each step took her closer to the man who had awoken both unbridled pleasure and crushing heartbreak. Their relationship had been passionate, uninhibited, and over too soon when work took him across the world.

As she stepped through the slightly ajar door, a strong arm pulled her in and closed it behind her.

“Fiona,” he sighed as his body pressed hers against the door - his mouth leaning down to devour her own. Paul’s tongue penetrated her lips, causing currents of desire to shoot through her core.

Fiona’s senses were overwhelmed. His scent, touch, and taste flooded her body, triggering memories of their life together. Strong hands greedily explored her curves - touching her face and breasts before gliding over her ample ass. A strangled groan escaped Paul as he lowered his hips to grind his hard cock against her swollen pussy.

“Ahhh…,” she moaned as Paul dropped to his knees and tore off her panties. Spreading her thighs, he leaned forward to suck, lick, and bite her wet pussy until her legs trembled.

“Fuck me, Paul! Just fuck me!”

Leaning over the sink, Fiona grasped the porcelain sides with all her strength. His zipper dropped and she felt the thick head of his cock enter her with one smooth stroke until his hips pressed against her backside. Her head dropped as he fucked her with long, hard thrusts until he fisted her hair tightly, pulling her head upright once more.

He remembers.

Through the mirror their eyes locked - his strokes became fast and erratic, igniting long-buried nerves until Fiona exploded in orgasm, driving Paul to his own bucking release - their grunts and moans barely concealed by the overhead fan.

Cradled over her back, his dress shirt and tie rumpled with sweat, Paul lifted his head to speak.“Tonight was a celebratory dinner for my new job. I’m home, baby.”

Round 3, Match A: Tara Crescent vs. Will LaForge

The semis begin, featuring the required word "fork," and WOW have Tara and Will delivered!

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

“Are you comfortable, Princess?”

She wiggled on the bed and tested the thigh sling holding her legs spread wide. “Yes Sir, I’m fine. But you can tighten the straps some more if you want to pull my knees back farther.”

“That’s an excellent idea.” He adjusted the straps, pulling her knees almost to her chest. “How does that feel now? Are the ropes on your wrist too tight?

The ropes binding her arms to the bedposts were tight, but she needed the pain to distract her, otherwise the game would be over too soon. With her legs spread wide, her arms bound and a blindfold covering her eyes, she was completely vulnerable, totally exposed, and accessible for her-Sir’s enjoyment. How delicious.

“I’m ready, my-Sir. Let the game begin.”

Fire exploded between her legs before the sound of the slap reached her ears. “I’ll decide when the game begins, Princess. To remind you, once the game begins, you will have to guess what toy or implement I’ve used on your body. There will be five objects and you will have three guesses for each. If you guess all five toys or implements correctly, I will allow you to come. If you miss just one, you will receive our previously agreed upon punishment…and no orgasm.” He pressed two fingers into the wetness of her hot sheath and she moaned. “Understood?”

Her abdomen clenched with tingling anticipation. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good-girl. There is one more caveat to the game. If you climax before I give you permission, the game is over – you lose.”

She sucked down a calming breath. “Yes, Sir.”

“OK, let’s begin.”

She jerked in the sling when something wet lashed her clit. Coarse stubble rasped her skin and her breath caught in her throat.

“Tongue, that’s your tongue.”

“Excellent, Princess.”

Pleasure and pain closed around her pebbled nipple. “Nipple clamps, Sir.” Her nipples, an autobahn express to her pussy, practically sighed with pleasure.

“Oooh,” popped out of her mouth when a ribbed object breached her rosebud. “Butt-plug, Sir.”

“Brava baby-girl, that’s three - just two more to go.”

An all too familiar buzzing sound filled the room, just before the vibrations in her cunt sent pleasure rippling through her entire body.

“Wand, magic wand,” she gasped.

“Yes, now one more to go.” The buzzing grew louder and the vibrations stronger. He’d upped the wand’s speed – evil man.

Pleasure spikes pricked her arm. “Needles.”

“No.” The vibration grew stronger.

Barbs of pain stabbed her thighs. “Pinwheel, Sir.”

“No Princess, you have one more guess.” The vibrations grew stronger.

Her impending orgasm crested and she hovered on the edge. Prickly heat erupted wherever the stinging darts touched. She bit her lip and focused on the repeated tiny nips from whatever toy or implement Sir used all over her body.

Implement? Could it be?

“Fork, it’s a fucking fork.”

“Good-girl.” Sir climbed between her legs and the air rushed from her lungs when he slammed his cock deep inside her. “Now – come for Me.”

Story 2

We walk down the aisles of the grocery store and I watch his strong hands casually fill the basket. Sesame oil, chicken breasts, green onions. Two fat cucumbers follow, then some garlic and a large knob of ginger. Assorted stir-fry vegetables are added.

He lingers over a box containing a hundred wooden chopsticks. You know the kind you get when you order Chinese takeout? “Isn’t that rather a lot?” I ask. “I can’t use chopsticks. I need a fork.”

“Perhaps I have another use for them.” His voice is smooth, amused. Dom voice. Ooh. I didn’t know we were playing tonight. I just thought he was cooking dinner. Excellent.

***

Damien lays the produce out in neat rows on the kitchen counter. Picking up the ginger, he smirks. “Your internet search history is quite illuminating.” He trims the root into the shape of a fat butt-plug and looks up. “Get naked, Amy.”

A full-body shiver runs through me. I obey, nearing as he beckons. “Bend over please.” Even when he’s about to shove ginger into my ass, Damien is faultlessly polite.

I face away from him, my fingers parting my cheeks. He growls in appreciation as he pushes the ginger into my ass. “Chopsticks next,” he announces with a wink. “Wait, I forgot. You’d prefer a fork.”

The fire that has erupted in my anal passage prevents me from giving Damien the finger in reply.

He breaks apart the wooden chopsticks and makes sure there aren’t any splinters. When the rubber bands come out, I know exactly what’s going to happen. Hello, makeshift nipple clamps! I’m delighted to meet you.

The silverware drawer slides open next; a fork is pulled out.

My clamped nipples are blood-red with desire. Twin cherries about to explode with pressure. I nod silently.

The tines of the fork trace a slow path towards my aching nubs. They scratch at the underside of my breasts. They tap at the chopsticks, sending shockwaves through my body. The pain in my breasts, combined with the fire in my ass, has me shifting from leg to leg. I’m panting in arousal. My cunt clenches in desperate need.

One nipple is trapped between the tines. I can’t look away. “Should I twist, love?”

“Fuck yes,” I grit out. It will hurt like a bitch. I want it.

He laughs. “Amy,” he chides. “I’ve got to cook dinner.” He hands me a cucumber. “You’ll have to play with yourself.”

While he chops vegetables into slices, I move the cucumber in and out of my cunt. I don’t bother pleading; I’m not allowed to come. My brain is a haze, but I can hear the sound of sizzling vegetables in the wok. The aroma of ginger and garlic fills the air.

When I’m writhing in desperation, unable to hold off my climax for another second, he plates up two portions and sets them down. “Shall we eat?” he asks, grinning.

Punishment be damned. This time, I do give him the middle finger.

Round 2, Match D: Sessha Batto vs. Etta Stark

Now we come to the final match of Round 2, with two more marvelous stories featuring the required word, "hotel"! 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

There is nowhere lonelier than the bland characterless room of a budget hotel at 11pm. I loved my job but sometimes the constant travelling got me down. Having to be in Truro one day, Cambridge the next. It had its perks of course but sometimes I just felt very alone.

I switched off the television and was surprised by a knock on the door. Who the hell was that? It’s not as though you get room service at the Premier Inn.

“Hey princess, you gonna let me in?” called a familiar voice and my face immediately broke into a grin.

“Nick!” I said opening the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Missed you,” he explained shucking off his coat and kissing me hard. “Wanted to see you.”

“Wait, you’ve driven five hours just to see me?”

“Yup.” He pulled me towards him and started unbuttoning my blouse. “That OK?”

“Of course. Don’t you have work in the morning though?”

“Afraid so. I’m going to have leave in... ” He glanced at the clock. “about three hours time.”

“You’re driving through the night just to spend three hours with me?”

“Hell yeah.” Nick had completely removed my blouse and unsnapped my bra. He ran his hand over my breasts. “We’d better make sure those three hours are totally worth it.”

I moaned as he gave my nipple a sharp tweak.

“Now let’s get the rest of those clothes off you so I can give you the spanking that you almost certainly deserve,” he said. With Nick’s help, I was very quickly naked. “Up on to the bed, on all fours,” he commanded.

The thorough spanking he gave me left me sore and breathless and unbelievably turned on. Still on all fours on the bed, I turned my head to see Nick quickly undressing. His cock was rigid and clearly ready for the damn good fucking he was about to give me.

The sex was as fantastic as I knew it would be. Over the next few hours he took me repeatedly and enthusiastically. In between the sex and blow jobs and spankings, we cuddled up together and chatted. It was good to see him.

All too soon our time was up. He gave my arse a final resounding slap. “Well, princess, that was delightful. But I’m gonna need to head back to Truro now. Got a five hour drive ahead of me.”

I lay happily on the bed, watching Nick dress, not envying him his long drive home on no sleep.

It was hard to believe we’d only met for the first time yesterday. Truro hotels can be as lonely as Cambridge ones but it’s a hell of a lot more fun when you meet a very sexy businessman in the hotel bar and end up having mind-blowing spanky sex in your room. I hadn’t been expecting a follow-up quite so soon.

“You know what?” I said as Nick kissed me goodbye. “That was a very satisfactory second date.”

Story 2

“Why are we going to a hotel?”

“I wanted to thank you for helping me with my little problem.”

“And you couldn't do that at home?” Xander merely kissed his forehead and strolled over to the concierge. Michael certainly enjoyed the view, his boyfriend looked absolutely edible in a loose white shirt and a pair of fitted black pants.

“Don't look so serious, your face will freeze that way.” Xander twirled the key around his finger as he tugged his boyfriend to the elevator. “We're on the top floor. I thought, since you were so helpful in overcoming my fear of heights, you might want to fuck me up against the window wall. I hear the view is spectacular.”

Michael picked up the pace, yanking his partner into the elevator and into a messy kiss.

“Now, now. No need to rush. Just stay there,” Xander pushed him against the door of the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. He fiddled with his iPod, propping it on the railing before spinning to face his lover.

Michael jumped when low sultry music started playing, and his heart sped up to match the beat when Xander’s hand moved to the top button of his shirt and he realized what was going to happen. He continued to stare, mesmerized, as a hand slowly traveled down and flicked open one button after another, allowing tantalizing glimpses of alabaster skin.

“What if someone wants on?”

“Then I trust you to protect my honor,” Xander shot back with a sultry smirk.

Michael wondered if his pants might catch fire when the shirt finally slid free of broad shoulders, leaving him with a view of a pale, perfectly muscled back criss-crossed with black leather straps.

So distracted was he, that he didn’t notice the hand slowly unfastening black pants until they slid down toned legs and his blood pressure spiked. Michael’s mind desperately tried to process the image he swore was in front of him, the normally staid Xander, bent slightly at the waist, dressed in nothing but black silk stockings, a black leather garter belt, leather collar and wrist cuffs and those maddening straps.

“Like what you see?” The only reply was a guttural croak, eyes going wide when his boyfriend spun in place and advanced to writhe erotically inches from his face.

“You said you wanted to see me in a garter belt and stockings,” Xander continued to tease as he rotated his ass. “But you don’t seem to like your present.”

Michael’s finely honed control snapped and he snagged his partner and pulled him into his arms, grinding against him as he devoured his lover's mouth. “You do know you drive me absolutely crazy, don’t you?” he mumbled when they broke for air.

The elevator slid to a stop and Xander darted out the door. “Then I guess you should try to catch me.”

Round 2, Match C: Justine Hollander vs. Adaline Raine

Here we are, in the third match of Round 2, with two more incredibly hot--and incredibly varied--stories featuring the required word, "hotel"! 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

Red light filtered into the car. On…off…on…off.

Her hips moved to the same rhythm as his mouth devoured her. Through hooded eyes, Mara looked down. He was on his knees on the passenger side floor, between her soft, pale thighs. The seat back was angled so that she could see everything. She watched as his tongue licked over her clit in long, broad strokes that made her pussy leak and head spin.

Flashes of red alternated with white from the street lamp above, casting him as both devil and angel. His lips followed suit - gentle licks and kisses alternated with aggressive bites and sucks that would mark her for days.

Who was this guy?

It was Dave - mild, reserved, introverted Dave.

***

His cubicle was only two down from hers - it might as well have been on another planet. They’d worked together for three months before he’d even spoken to her, but when he had, his smooth, deep voice invoked an unexpected sexual current to ripple through her. This had shocked Mara as he was so plain - no mohawk, no piercings…no edge.

She couldn’t leave it alone.

Making it her mission to provoke him, Mara began to visit Dave with offers of coffee, or for his opinion on a graphic she was working on. His response always friendly, yet restrained. She began to touch him more - a light hand on his shoulder - pressing unnecessarily close as they reviewed documents together.

Still nothing.

Spring arrived and off came her tights. Mara began hitching the waist of her skirts before her visits until they were less than office appropriate. Just today they’d been standing next to his desk when she’d leaned over, deliberately stretching further than necessary to reach for a pen. The hem of her skirt tickled the backs of her thighs as it crept up and just over the swell of her bare ass.

She froze as his finger traced the path her skirt just traveled, shivers running up her spine.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Dirty girls need a hotel room. Tonight, Mara…meet me by the elevators.”

He turned and left the cubicle, leaving Mara stunned and turned on.

They drove in silence - his possessive hand firm over her exposed thigh.

When they’d arrived, she’d looked at the sign in disappointment. Unfazed, Dave turned to kiss her. Mara quickly appreciated the fun that could be had in a car.

***

Dave’s fingers pumped her pussy as his lips and teeth clamped down one last time on her swollen clit, launching Mara into an epic orgasm that shuddered through her, wave after wave until she lay panting on the seat.

Wiping condensation from the window, Mara viewed the red, flashing ‘No Vacancy’ sign - a reminder of their poor planning.

She said wistfully, “I only wish we’d gotten a room.”

Dave looked at her with fire in his eyes as he pulled his keys from the ignition.

“Who said we don’t have a room?”

Story 2

Cora closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of coconut as the young woman behind her lathered the shampoo into her hair. It smelled so rich that she could almost taste the Pina colada it reminded her of. She had a random thought about sitting on a beach with the salon girl clinking drinks and laughing when the other woman dug her fingers into her long brown tresses and kneaded them against her scalp. This is heaven, Cora decided as she relaxed into the chair. The woman had amazing hands.

“What else do you do with your hands?” The fingers paused in their task and suddenly warm water flooded over the top of her scalp. Had the woman rinsed because of her awkward question? She meant to ask what type of hobbies she was into and instead it sounded vaguely sexual. “I mean they're great.”

A soft chuckle sounded over her head following by a cute snort. “Ah, do you mean like in my other job?”

Cora grunted as she tried to think of a proper response. How stupid she sounded! Did this woman get propositioned by weirdos in her beauty chair all the time? “I never take time for myself. You just made me feel so relaxed.”

“I'm Zoey.” Her voice reminded her of tinkling bells, high pitched but melodic. “I do photography but I don't have a studio yet. I just kinda set up in a hotel room and drape pretty clothes over half naked women.”

“What?” Cora opened her eyes, completely forgetting that the other woman had a spray hose aimed there and soap ran into them. “Oh!”

“I'm so sorry!” Zoey appeared alarmed in her blurred vision. “Let me help.”

Cora's eyes stung badly from the shampoo but in seconds cool drops of water were flushing it out. She blinked several times and finally the burning stopped. Zoey's face was now inches from hers and she could see concern etched in her features.

“My specialty is boudoir sessions. I take several poses and then I paint one of them on canvas.” Zoey patted her eyes with a soft dry cloth. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“I didn't expect that sort of answer. I worded my question oddly and...” Cora could no longer think with this adorable punky woman with dip-dyed purple and pink hair staring at her. How did she not notice her when she walked in?

“I'd love to paint you. Let me do a session? Free, of course, since I almost blinded you.” Zoey moved back behind the chair without her answer. “Move your head back so I can condition you.”

“Condition me to say yes?” Cora smirked as she leaned back. “I would have said it anyway.” Zoey's fingers returned to her head and a warm vanilla scent filled the air as the cream saturated her hair.

“Cool. Then you can really see what I do with my hands.”

Round 2, Match B: Tara Crescent vs. Kiki Howell

Here are the amazing (and amazingly different from one another) stories of the second match of Round 2. 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

She was a curvy Irish redhead with curls that cascaded down her fair neck. Maeve O’Conner, president of our little kink society. Her body promised all kinds of carnal pleasure to the lucky man that ended up in her bed. Her eyes twinkled as she surveyed us, amused, aware and so very wicked.

If you win, her invitation had said, fantasies will be brought to life.

Me, I wanted to tie Maeve up and have her beg to be cropped. She’d plead so sweetly with that husky voice of hers. I’d mark her lush breasts in a rosy pink hue. My cock grew hard at the thought of thrusting between those soft round globes.

But Mistress Maeve wielded the crop and submitted to no man.

“What do you think she has planned?” a voice interrupted my lust-filled musings.

I turned towards my friend Patrick. “Not a clue,” I replied, trying to wish my erection away. “But I want to win.”

He grinned. “Me too, Colin.”

On the hotel floor, I played blackjack, roulette and more. The stacks of chips in front of me grew larger. I received whispered invitations from beautiful women but ignored them all. Tonight, I wanted something else.

When the hour was long past midnight, I’d done enough. There was a card in my hand, engraved with a room number. 300. I made my way up, only to see another man walk towards the same door. Patrick.

Both of us held up our cards. Both said 300.

“Is your fantasy a threesome, Colin?”

I shook my head. We’d shared women often, Patrick and I. This wasn’t fantasy territory for either of us. Curious, I opened the door.

A woman was bent over a spanking bench in the centre, the golden skirts of her gown pushed up to expose her naked ass. Her legs were pressed together, her succulent labia glistened in invitation and a jewelled buttplug protruded from her asshole.

Mistress Maeve. Restrained and ready for plunder. Submitting not to one man but to two.

“Maeve,” I scolded, grabbing a riding crop from the collection helpfully laid out on a side table. “I thought this was about our fantasies, not yours.”

She turned her head and grinned at us. “I thought we could meet in the middle, gentlemen.” She readily parted her crimson lips for Patrick’s dick and my cock strained against my trousers.

I brought the crop down and watched a red stain bloom on her pale posterior. “Ah, Maeve,” I said, taking a leisurely lick of her pouty pussy lips and hearing her throaty groan, “we are going to have some fun tonight.”

“Don’t stop,” she demanded through a mouthful of cock.

Patrick chuckled. It seemed pretty Maeve needed practice at being submissive. He reached down and pulled those creamy breasts from under the low-cut bodice, squeezing them till she moaned. On my end, I pumped the buttplug in and out of her asshole.

“Rule one,” I said firmly, “is that you aren’t in charge.”

Story 2

She floated through the aged, brick wall worn by time and elements. The sensation of atoms changing, rearranging, gave her a brief second of mirth which faded fast when her body materialized into the old hotel room numbered 234. Though but a spirit, the ghostly void where her heart used to beat ached, made the image of white gas she formed shiver in the sliver of light from a streetlamp that streamed through the broken window.

Every fourteenth of January she came here faithfully. Although, she visited several other times throughout the year too when the crush of emotions hit her. The edgy and harsh affections made her remember what it was like to be human, to have her lungs battle for breath. She hovered above the mattress now half fallen off the bed. The torn and tattered mess appeared to her a soft mass covered in crisp white. The sheets she remembered rested rumpled from a night of lovers wrestling through them, having tried to merely survive the overwhelming plight of flesh against flesh. Her vacant breast throbbed with the reminiscence of fingers sliding over her skin. Long gone nerves tingled, trembled under the remembrance of hands tough and calloused. His. Dead over a few decades too, she couldn’t understand why her lover didn’t come here as she did. At one time, in a world that had tried to beat her down, he’d given her life. Just a touch, a look, had made every wrong right.

The weight of his hands on her at one time had grabbed and soothed as hefty need gave way to love and adoration. This feeling lingered though no bodies existed save for those turning to dust in a couple of graves. She, a spirit reflected, forever remained, strongest here in this room where they’d first escaped the world to join together as husband and wife in a marriage forbidden. Now, only their love survived even the wages of time.

Inside her ghostly being the memory of muscles coiled, contracted, as her spirit wrestled again with the recollection of being entered by a man, stretched and made to tremble until robbed of the power to control her own body. Rational thoughts merged with flashbacks, and the blip of white smoke she remained tore through the dusty air.

Pulsing, swelling, hard against soft, she relived it all. The memory of a bite soothed by the brush of soft lips broke a heart that survived only in thoughts. This eternal blessed torture was all she had left. A crystal clear image of tight skin over the peaks and valleys of a man built of hard work existed eternally somewhere in a mist, an existence she couldn’t define or escape. Here in this hotel room the ghostly vestige of love — hot, sweaty and passionate. A need to be filled so huge it hurt a body that no longer existed yet seemed to fight to breathe forever remained.

Round 2, Match A: Will LaForge vs. Meredith O'Reilly

Here we are, in the first match of Round 2, and we've got two incredibly hot stories to go with our required word, "hotel"! 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

Dick checked his watch again. “Ms. Gordon, what are you doing in there? I want to check out of here and hit the road by Noon.”

Barbara danced out of the bathroom wearing a sheer, white sundress flowing to mid-thigh. “Ooh, he called me ‘Ms. Gordon’ in his dominant voice. You know I get moist when you act all macho. Well, Mr. Grayson, since we’re being so formal, what do you think?” She did a little pirouette that made the dress rise high to show off her defined legs, shapely ass and cleanly shaven pussy.

“You’re not wearing panties, or a bra.”

“No Dick, I’m not. What’s your point? This way you’ll have easy access to the goodies in the car. Mmm, and judging by the lump in your pants, you haven’t had enough of me yet.”

“No, I can never get enough of your sweet goodies. Come here.”

He pulled her into his arms and licked her lips. When she ground her hips into his groin, he pulled up her dress to squeeze her delicious ass.

From his secret hiding place in the wall, Norman squirmed with growing envy. He’d watched the amorous couple all through the night and returned this morning just in time to see the man mount the wanton slut again. The floor under his feet was sticky with his own spent emissions, but he’d have to wait until they checked out to clean up the mess. Norman barely stifled a groan as he freed his aching cock from the confines of his jeans.

Dick leaned back and turned his head toward the wall. “Did you hear something?”

“No, baby, I didn’t hear a thing. To be honest, all I want to hear are your moans, because I’m going to take the edge off you before we leave.” She pushed him onto the end of the bed.

“Barbara, we don’t have time to fool around. We promised Bruce we’d be back for weapons training tonight.”

She undid his pants, yanked them off and then dropped to her knees between his legs. “This won’t take long. You haven’t cum in my mouth all weekend and I’m hungry.” Dick’s big cock popped free and she engulfed the head in her mouth.

“Oh my god Barbara, you’re right, this won’t take long.”

She mumbled around his cock. “Do it. Come for me. Shoot all your juice down my greedy throat.”

“Fuck, I’m coming!” Dick shouted.

Behind the wall, Norman trembled with lust. Once again, he found himself torn between wanting to be him…or be her. He wiped the drool off his mouth as he imagined swallowing a man’s seed. Norman stroked his cock, once, twice, and then he spewed a torrent of his liquid essence all over the wall and floor.

****

Mrs. Bates smiled at the young couple. “We hope you enjoyed your weekend here at the Bates Bed & Breakfast. Hopefully, you’ll come back next spring when we open up either our new motel or hotel.”

Story 2

"Robert! Someone's going to hear us! We're in a hotel!" I cried out, hoping that it would get me out of the spanking that I had earned myself.

"Then you should have thought about that before you continued to sass back to me." Robert said, positioning me over his lap.

"But-"

Smack! "The only butt in this conversation is yours. You earned yourself a spanking, take it like the good little girl I know you are."

"Yes Daddy." I said, hanging my head in shame.

Robert started my spanking as he usually did, with spankings around my entire bottom. It made my skin start to tingle without causing any pain...yet.

After a few moments of warming me up, my punishment spanking began.

"Good girls-listen to-their Daddies!" Robert calmly declared, sending three hard smacks down across my bottom.

"Ouch!" I howled as pain sizzled across my backside. After each smack, a fiery burn was left in it's wake.

"You need to-trust me-to take care-of you." He continued, despite my sobbing and constant wiggling.

I hated punishment spankings! It left my bottom feeling raw and sore.

"I'm only-trying to-protect you." He said, finishing my spanking with a final slap to my bottom.

"I'm...sorry." I blubbered out as Robert picked me up and repositioned me so I was lying face down on the bed with my legs dangling off.

"I know you are honey. Now I'm going to fuck your bottom hole. Since you took your spanking so well, you can come when I say so."

A shiver of delight ran through me at the pure primal and dominant act that Robert was about to do. I felt my pussy get wet as he put a lubricated finger inside of me.

"Hmmm...it seems that someone is sure turned on by this." Robert teased, his other hand, gently gliding over my saturated pussy.

"No." I croaked out, suddenly feeling embarrassed as he added a second and third finger stretching me.

"Don't lie to me. Only bad girls lie and bad girls don't get to come." He said, pinching my swollen clit and at the same time, he removed his fingers and shoved his shaft halfway in to my bottom.

"Oh!" I cried, as my body tensed at the stimulation and at the feeling of being taken like this.

"Relax sweetie. Take a deep breath."

I did as I was told and felt Robert slide himself in to me the rest of the way.

"Good girl. You are mine, to punish and to pleasure for the rest of our lives."

"Yes Sir." I said, feeling a sense of rightness at his words.

"I love you Juliana." He said, as he began to thrust in and out of me as he played with my pussy.

"I...love you...too." I gasped as I felt myself about to come.

"Come my love." He whispered in my ear, before biting it, and sending me over the edge.

Round 1, Match H: Sessha Batto vs. Nya Rawlyns

Here we are, in the final match of Round 1! 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: The Thin Red Line

The soul-sucking whimpering rasped my throat dry, shredding it so bits of yes, no, maybe, oh fucking hell no I can’t…

I can’t…

I ca—

…fell on deaf ears, my ears.

Ears tuned to every breath, every damn barefoot step, pacing fup fup fup, the linoleum begging no don’t go, don’t leave me please…
The door snicked shut.

You can feel the locks, did you know that? They register different, odd, like thieves in the night cloaking your fantasies and your security in denial. No, you can’t, not now… not ever.

The door. My egress. My last refuge gone, vacuuming air from my lungs.

It hurt.

It fizzed and sizzled and sliced. I thrummed with it, my cock bulged, begged, ballooned with it.

Please…

Do it.

Do it now.

Sssh.

Slow strokes. Confident. Leather thick and rigid registered subtle taps and adjustments and a hiss of satisfaction.

Sometimes he gave himself away, allowing ingress to his agreement, to his needs, to the contract, the covenant, the holy grail of punishment and pleasures too rare and glorious to be contained in the crisscross of straps and iron cages and the bulging bit, the rigid rod ramming roughshod in air heated to molten with my silent screams for pity…

Do it.

It, it, it… clogged my throat. Wrong, so wrong to feel it there. There was fear, not desire, not release. There was me and the final portal to my weakness.

Growl it.

Groan it.

Stop it.

No, no, no…

The nail, ragged and blunt, carved a trail, a misdirection, a prod to the neck, the prominence pressured…

Pressured.

God, god, gods help me, help me breathe…

He left his presence lodged tight, so tight it startled in its harmlessness, in its meaningless envy of pain refocused. I lost all sense of time and place. Lost feeling. Lost sensation so severe, so beautiful and pure and holy and perfect, nothing else mattered but please morphed to more, more please, more.

The glance was downward, down down down, imagination and senseless sensation rocketing imagination to new heights, new lows, until all that remained was that single protuberance, that one interconnectivity of current, and though blind I saw what he promised.

It was too much, the offering was too much, more than I deserved, all that I needed, and I whistled past the gag and the lump and the hideous evidence of desire, my body’s betrayal a joy and a disgrace, and I longed for it to be over so I could hide my inner self under the coating of cum and sweat and blood and his insatiable appetite for capitulation.

War, war is like that, isn’t it? Parry, retreat. Attack, withdraw.

The first trickle of current hit. A tease, only a fucking tease, sensation feeding ass to cock to ass, looped through wires and rods and devices all at his command.

I nearly wept with joy.

Are you ready?

No, I don’t know, god, I don’t…

You will be.

Story 2

Bad enough his destination was on the 26th floor, forcing him to take the elevator. That it was one of the glass walled models only increased the churning pool of dread in his stomach. Don't look, don't look, it's perfectly safe. The refrain drummed through his brain, dissolving into meaningless babble. Eyes squeezed shut, he studiously ignored the bodies pushing past him as they came and went on the slow crawl upwards. Nearly there. An arm brushed his and the death box ground to a halt.

“You don't like elevators.” The soft voice in his ear startled him out of his rising panic. “I think I can help you with that.” A firm hand grasped the back of his neck, pinning him in place against the cool metal of the door.

He was torn between submission and outrage when his pants were unfastened and tugged down, leaving his ass bared to the world below. “Are you worried they can see you?” He drank in the comforting scent of smoke and pine, echoes of bonfires and wide open spaces. “But you like it. You're already hard for me.”

The only sounds were the rasp of a zipper and his gasps for air. He was unwilling to examine whether his breathlessness was due to fear or excitement. The stretch and burn of penetration only made him harder, his cock painting sticky trails of precum across the shiny metal. “Hands behind your head, no touching.” The pressure on his neck eased as he followed instructions. And then the cock inside him began to move. Hard and insistent, it drove all thought from his mind. “Sorry to rush, but if we stay still for too long someone will come and investigate. I'm sure you don't want that.” That thought, coupled with the unerring brushes of his prostate had him teetering on the edge.

Sharp teeth latched onto the sensitive juncture of neck and shoulder and he was undone, cum painting abstract patterns on brushed aluminum. The answering rush of warmth deep inside brought the first smile to his face. The softening cock withdrew, only to be replaced with the unyielding hardness of a plug. “It wouldn't do to have you leaking all afternoon. Besides, I like the idea of my cum inside you.”

“No peeking.” The elevator once more began to move. “Don't forget to clean up your mess” The door slid open and a large body brushed past. “Same time next week in the sky tower north elevator. And don't worry, we'll soon have you past this little problem of yours.”

The door slid shut, leaving only a parting echo. “See you at home. I'll pick up Chinese.”