Author's notation: Generally when I write a story, my usual preference is to complete it. Then, during my first edit, go through the storyboards and see if there are sections where adding a sex scene would be useful. Explaining a character's background or maybe their lack of character. Setting up for later actions or trying to fill in past scenes that need to be fleshed out. So to speak.
I have some large novelette/novel size stories where I have already written some of the sex scenes. And they turn out to be complete enough, in themselves, to be stand alone short stories or at least masturbatory aides. I call these my Sexcerpts. Sorry, I'm addicted to bad punning.
So, for those readers who do not want to be bothered with anything more stimulating then suck & fuck, I dedicate these Sexcerpts to you. When you're finished whacking off, please go wash your hands.
Thank you - fanfare
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Cooking On All Burners
I don't know about you all but I enjoy cooking and it was pathetic how bare the cupboard and refrigerator are in this house. Typical bachelors. Mister Leslie and Master Paul {He still hasn't caught on to the joke, I'm going to start calling him Master Paul Bates next. God! Blondes!}generally were slipshod in their grocery shopping.
Beer and junk food and they figure they are done. They're a 7/11 manager's wet dream as they're always running down to the corner for that single forgotten item like coffee or coffee filters or or a roll of toilet paper or some such nonsense. Here I thought my Leslie was smarter then that. Go figure Men!
So I finally got Mister Leslie to take me on a major grocery expedition. A load of frozen and dairy perishables and meat. Then we went back to the stores for bakery, fresh vegetables and fruit. Had a nice lunch at a quirky little coffee shop and bakery. The third trip, we loaded up with dry goods and alcohol.
I was looking for some extra storage space for cans and boxes in the laundry alcove when I opened a folding door to what had probably been the original pantry to find a huge standing metal box.
For a second I thought, 'A freezer?' but obviously the door was wrong and it had an electronic lock on the front. Now I know these boy's families are loaded but it seemed a trifle excessive as a money safe, especially as I know Leslie and Paul each have a small floor safe in their bedroom clothes closets. I've seen My Leslie take cash out of his, so what was this monstrosity for? It was like Fort Knox, California!
I stuck my head out into the kitchen where Mister Leslie was installing a paper towel holder on the wall and in a puzzled tone I called him "Hey Windy, what the hell you hiding in here? The Tardis?"
He looked over at me, his face got a funny look on it when he realized to what I had to be referring. He looked back at what he was doing and in a flat tone said "Hang on Jayhawk, let me get this last screw in."
As I heard his electric screwdriver whining, I reached out to the recessed handle and gave it a couple of tugs to see if actually was locked. Damn! It was.
Then suddenly I realized that Windy was standing right behind me looking down over my shoulder at my hand on the handle. I yanked it back feeling embarrassed like I was a little girl again, caught by my daddy with my hand in the cookie jar.
I suddenly felt uncomfortable that he was right up against me and I hadn't heard him approach. I started to turn when he pressed his body against my rear while leaning over me with one hand propping himself up and his other hand lightly stroking my left arm. Trapped, unable to move, my face and body lightly pressed up against the textured, cold surface.
His touch made me shiver and then he spoke in a low, deep growl "Well Mizz Leslie, curiosity can have...curious consequences. Confused?"
I was a little confused and a little frightened and to be honest, a little aroused as his warm body pressed up against mine. With his hot breath against the side of my neck and his strong left hand caressing my arm.
I was at a lost for words and for a couple of seconds I had flashbacks to every bad horror film I ever had the misfortune to endure sitting through. While my forebrain was trying to rationalize away such ridiculous notions, my stem animal brain was screaming 'RUN!!'
Then in a soft, husky voice as he slipped his right hand down to gently stroke my neck, he said.
"You remember in Tales of MU
the chapters about Viktor's 'Little Shop of Horrors'
and the magic box
he keeps inconvenient women in?"
That was crazy! This couldn't be real, could it? My voice squeaked, it's been a long time since I could do soprano "Don't! Don't try and trick me you evil man!"
His hands grab both of mine and pulling them up over my head and holding them in place with his right hand while his left hand is now gently stoking my throat "For you Mizz Leslie, I am divinely evil."
I was stumped at what to say next, that's when he began to whisper in my ear as he continued to lightly massage around my neck.
"Think about it my darling.
You are stripped, then cuffed hand to foot
and put away into this lovely, dark container.
Kept safe and available for my pleasure.
Whenever I choose to take you out
and have my way with you.
Whatever I want to do to your body.
Totally at my mercy and I mean THE Mercy,
the Grey Elf kind of Mercy!
Whenever I want to fuck you catatonic."
Oh Good Golly, Sweet Miss Molly! My knees are weak, my innards are doing flipflops and my pussy is starting to dribble and burn with the excitement of having to endure Mister Leslie's verbal domination and twisted imagination forcing me to his lust.
"Yes, my darling.
You do understand me.
Think of the hours of isolation inside this box.
...Hours.
...Alone.
...In the dark.
And silence...
Deafening silence."
I think I squeaked in fear.
"Suddenly, the door flies open
and I am standing there
coldly considering you!
I grab you and yank your protesting black booty out,
dragging you into the bedroom."
"The first thing you notice are the chains
hanging from the ceiling.
You try to struggle but your limbs do not respond
after being cooped up for so long.
Besides, your hands are still cuffed to your feet."
Now both of his hands were massaging my neck and shoulders. Totally confused between the pleasure of his familiar touch contrasting with my paralysis as my libido visualized his imagineering. I was frozen between his strong hands and the iron door. I remained, leaning forward against the iron door with my clasped hands outstretched over my bowed head. I don't know why.
"You start to beg but
I am insensible to your entreaties.
To prevent your screams
from reaching some nosy neighbor
I force a ball gag into your mouth.
Enough to filter down your screams
but still allowing those delicious
cries of pain and pleasure
meant only for my ears."
"I blindfold you
and once again
you are totally helpless
in the dark."
Mister Windy's hands have moved down to my back and his fingers strongly working out my tense muscles. Hitting all my pressure points with bursts of pleasurable pain.
"Tears begin to roll down your face
as your fears, your worst fears
have come true.
You must finally admit
to yourself,
Master Leslie
is a sadistic brute."
I was going spastic as the conflicting signals between his growling threats and healing hands were driving my nervous system, my entire body into boiling chaos. And I did feel tears rolling over my cheeks.
"I attach one end of the ceiling chain
to your wrist cuffs.
Then a floor chain
to each ankle cuff.
After I unlink your hands
from your feet,
I quickly pull the ceiling chain taut
till your arms are stretched
over your head.
Then I tighten the chains
to your ankles
forcing your legs far apart.
Leaving your naked body
exposed
...available
for my every whim.
My every.....savage.....desire."
His hands have moved under my blouse and around my front to knead at my brassiere. My tits ache from his menacing verbal assault and his tugging, squeezing, crushing hands. His foot forces my legs apart with gentle taps.
"Ahh, whose perky nipples
are all aroused and hard as nails?
While you visualize what I am telling you.
Is this my fantasy
or yours?"
