Welcome to Sunday Snog - here's a few from That Filthy Book - which is, as the name suggests, utterly filthy! In this excerpt they've turned the tables and Karen is in charge of her sexy husband's pleasure and she's making him work for it.
Back Cover Information
Many years ago that filthy book imprinted itself in my erotic subconscious. Now it’s reared its head and is about to drag me along for the dirtiest ride of my life.
Out of sight, out of mind. Or so I thought, but it turns out an old, dog-eared book with contents so filthy and so depraved that I’d been forced to hide it after reading, has sank deeper into my erotic subconscious than I’d ever imagined. Luckily though, Jacob is up for exploring the new side of me that has risen to the surface after all these years.
In a whirlwind of wanton adventures that push us to the limits of our sexuality, we begin to re-discover what it once was that had us screaming with pleasure and how to accept that nothing will ever be the same again between us.
“Today I am in charge of your pleasure,” I said, delving into the bag. “Which means there are three rules. You will do as I say. You only look directly at me when I allow you to, and, most importantly, you will only come when I give you permission. Do you understand?”
I pulled a black and red flogger from the bag. The leather handle was smooth and had a domed end that reminded me of the head of a cock. The fifty tails were made of thin suede and swished softly as it moved. Like the boots, the flogger had called to me from amidst a huge selection of paddles, bullwhips and crops. I reckoned it would suit my needs. Jacob hadn’t asked for erotic pain the way I had with the branch, but I thought its tickling ends would be a great way to tease and titillate my captive. Make him a little unsure of my moves and increase the anticipation.
“Did I say you could speak?”
I used a harsh tone and flicked the tails of my flogger at the ball of his shoulder. They flew through the air and connected a little harder than I’d intended, giving a sharp slap as they struck.
But he didn’t wince or jerk even a fraction, just swallowed tightly and gave a stiff shake of his head. His cock twitched.
Ah, so he liked the flogger inflicting a little pain.
As I stepped around him in a complete circle, I ran the tails over his chest, upper right arm, and back, swaying my hips and exaggerating every movement of my legs and arms.
I paused by his face to make sure he was under no mistake that my outfit was crotchless. “The flogger is for when you are tied up and can do nothing about where and how hard I decide to touch you.”
After resting it on the chair he’d been sitting on, I went back to the bag. This time I pulled out two pairs of silver handcuffs. I’d had a dilemma when we’d arrived and found the headboard to be a neat, shiny affair attached to the wall. There were no sexy wrought iron bars or strong wooden posts to secure Jacob to. But my problem had been solved with the mental image of him on the floor and me in my boots strutting around him. The solution was exactly that, the floor.
“Do you like my outfit?” I asked. Silence.
“You may speak.”
I smiled in a satisfied, powerful kind of a way. “Good. Now pull the cover off the mattress and place it over here, in the big space on the floor at the end of the bed.”
He did as I’d asked, moving on hands and knees to complete the task. It seemed strange to see my husband crawling. The muscles in his back rippled and the dip of his sweet arse cheeks sank. The sight made my pussy wet and my nipples peaked against their scratchy containment. He was truly beautiful.
“Good, now attach your left wrist to the leg of the bed.” I dropped the handcuffs near him. “And hurry, we don’t have all day.”
Oh, we so did! Today and tomorrow.
Metal clicked and Jacob sat with his left arm extended, handcuff fixed tight.
“Lie completely flat on the floor,” I said, holding up the other set of handcuffs, the pair that would render him completely at my mercy.
He shuffled down, and I moved swiftly to secure his other arm then stood, straight and proud, and looked down at the perfect specimen of a man I’d caught for myself.
His eyelids were heavy, his mouth slightly parted. His chest rose and fell quickly, as if he’d been doing something strenuous in the garden. His arms were raised high, the same way he’d tied me to the trees in the woods. The delicate skin of his underarm, coated in coal- black silken hair, was exposed; as was the outline of his ribs as his torso stretched long and lean.
The dark hair over his chest continued down his taut abs to his cock, where the strands were bushy and thick and wiry. His engorged dick pointed to the ceiling, the head swollen and the slit wide. I could imagine how firm and hot it would feel in my hands. How it would be like silk on steel, satin on iron. I loved his cock. I loved Jacob with every beat of my heart, and I loved his cock too.
His legs were together, the thick hairs on his thighs tapering off at his knees then becoming increasingly dense on his shins. His feet were tipped slightly outwards, his long toes and the arch of his foot vulnerable and pale.
“Spread your legs,” I instructed, pacing to the desk at the end of the long room.
I could feel his gaze burning into my body as I reached for the wooden, straight-backed chair.
“Wider,” I said.
He stretched his legs further apart until he was lying in a star shape.
“Good,” I said, placing the chair on the floor between his lower limbs, the front legs just above his knees. Jacob had said one of the things that turned him on about being tied up was not being able to touch me—to lay there wanting me, needing me, but unable to do anything about it. I’d thought about this a lot and was looking forward to giving him quite a show. In fact, my clit was already buzzing for it to begin.
I retrieved the flogger then stepped over him, placing one foot either side of his chest.
“You may look at my pussy,” I said, stooping slightly and trailing the flogger over his face and down the column of his throat. “In fact, you’re not to take your attention from my pussy until I give you permission.”
Carefully stepping backwards on my spiked heels, I sat on the chair with my legs stretched wide apart, the heels of my boots pressed into the carpet outside of his thighs.
“I know you want to look at my pussy,” I said in a low voice as I ran the tails of the flogger up my thigh and over my bare, exposed cunt. “You like looking at my pussy and you like touching my pussy, don’t you, Jacob?”
There was a rise of colour on his cheekbones as he nodded and pressed his lips together. He seemed mesmerised by the trailing tails of the flogger caressing my engorged lips.
A glut of power seared through me. Power and pleasure. Seeing Jacob so aroused and willing to get into a role he’d initially been nervous about told me I was doing it right. I’d taken control and he was enjoying relinquishing it.
I began to finger myself, rolling and toying with my clit and dipping into my entrance. I was wet and hot and craving more. “You know what I think of when I masturbate, Jacob?” I asked.
He swallowed tightly and shook his head, never once taking his gaze from my exploring, busy fingers.
“When you’re at work and I’m horny, or, if you’re away on business, I have no choice but to touch myself. But it’s always you. I always think of you and your glorious, big cock.”
Turning the flogger around, I touched the tip of the handle to my entrance. “I love the way you fuck me with your cock, Jacob. The fact that you hover, just for a split second, before you plunge in.” After rotating the leather head around the rim of my pussy to gather natural lube, I eased it in. “Oh, God, Jacob, you always feel so big and hard. And hot, you always feel so hot when you sink into me.”
Scooting to the edge of the chair so I could tilt my pelvis, I slid the handle in higher. I caught my breath and squeezed my eyes shut. It felt cool and hard, and although not as big as Jacob’s girth, it was still a very satisfying entry.
“Do you like watching my pussy getting fucked?” I gasped, setting up a steady in-out rhythm.
Silence, except for the sound of my moisture clicking around the handle.
“Speak, you can speak,” I snapped.
“Yes, yes I like it, you look so fucking horny, so fucking swollen and turned on.”
“And you want to fuck me, don’t you? When I’m turned on and wet and swollen you want to sink your big, fat cock into me, don’t you? Ram in fast and hard and hear me cry out. Don’t you, Jacob? Answer me.”
“But you can’t, you’re tied up, on the floor. The flogger is fucking me...” I paused and sought my clit with my other hand. “The flogger is going to make me come while you watch. That is all you can do, watch—watch me get fucked.”
My heart rate picked up and a feverish flush crawled over my skin. The domed handle rubbed over my G-spot, hitting just the right spot and, combined with stimulation over my engorged clit, it wouldn’t be long until Jacob got to witness my orgasm.
“Ah, ah, yes, yes,” I hissed, opening my eyes and looking down at his face.
It took a second to focus on his rapt expression, but when I did a thrilling whack of satisfaction reeled through me. He was loving my show.
“Jacob, oh, God, I always think of you, you and your dick. Whenever I touch myself I always think of you touching me, always you, only you.” My toes curled in my boots, my legs tensed.
He too was panting, and a glance at his straining cock revealed a pearly drip of pre-cum sitting in his slit.
“I’m coming, Jacob, watch me come, I order you...to watch...me...come.”
I was there. With several fast, furious thrusts of the handle and deep pressure on my clit, I burst into a mass of pulsating ecstasy. “Oh, God, yes, so fucking good,” I cried. “Jacob, speak, can you see me coming?”
“Yes, I can see you and I want to make you come again, now.”
As the waves of bliss turned into ripples of pleasure I became aware of the clanking of handcuffs. He was twisting and turning, trying to get out of them.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I said, swiftly withdrawing the handle and standing even though my cunt was still spasming. “You have to lie there like a good boy and have what I decide you’re allowed.”
He stilled and looked up at me.
A trickle of moisture further dampened the inside of my thighs. My breath was hard to catch. “But as you’ve been good so far, you can have some of this.” Still holding the flogger, I gripped the end of the bed, a panel of straight, polished wood, and squatted down over his face.
“Can you see my cum?” I asked.
“Yes, you’re soaked with it.”
“I know, and I’m going to let you lick it off.” I sank lower, so I was positioned wide and open over his face.
He let out a low growl and strained upwards to meet my pussy.
“Oh, yes, that’s it,” I groaned as he gave a gentle lick over the whole length of my lips.
“That’s it,” I said in a soft voice. “Taste my juices, taste my cunt.”
He set up a hungry, methodical system of lapping and delving, sucking and slurping.
Whenever he was too firm over my super-sensitive clit I raised a little, eliciting moans of frustration from him.
Eventually, as my breathing returned to normal, I lifted up again. My pussy hummed nicely with satisfaction as I moved the chair out of our way.
“You really are behaving very well,” I said, lying down over him, again being careful with my heels. “You can stop looking at my cunt now, I think you deserve another reward.” I kissed him—hot, hard and open-mouthed. The way he kissed me when he was getting impatient for action. When I knew it wouldn’t be long until he was thrusting inside me.
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