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Let’s Play a Game (Spuffy Erotica)

“There’s a time and place for everything, and I believe it’s called ‘fan fiction’.”
Joss Whedon

Disclaimer: Spike & Buffy are property of Mutant Enemy & Joss Whedon. I don’t own Spike & Buffy, I just borrow them for writing masturbation fodder. 

“Let’s play a game Spike,” Buffy says, tilting her head coyly, her curly blonde ponytail brushing her nearly bare shoulders. As she enters Spike’s crypt, the heels of her black boots click against the stone floor. Spike looks up from his couch but away from her, avoiding eye contact. He’s immediately turned on by her sweet smell and gorgeous, petite figure, and this annoys the hell out of him.

“Oh right, is this the game where we destroy a house with our naked wrestling, and then you call me disgusting in the morning?” he says, meeting her eyes now, his lips twitching.

“Or the one where you kick my ass and go off about how you’re the good one, and I’m all pure evil, blood sucking and demon-like?” he says, picking up a glass of vodka on the table next to him, “Because I’m really not in the mood for either one, pet.”

Buffy puts her free hand on her hip and smirks.

“Maybe a little bit of both. Or maybe something completely different,” she says.

Spike raises his eyebrow as he notices the black leather bag that Buffy holds in her other hand. He leans back on the couch, trying to hide his curiosity.

“I’m really not in the mood for games, love. Not tonight. If you want to get me naked just say so, or get out.”

“Don’t call me love.”

Buffy approaches him, setting the bag on the floor nearby. She lifts herself on to his lap, straddling him. Her warmth is intoxicating, her breath a seductive whisper. He looks up at her, confused. She doesn’t usually act like this.

“Call me Slayer.”

“Oh, what is this? Are you on some kind of power trip? More than usual I mean. Are you going to tell me what to do now?” he says. “Do you want me to pretend I’m afraid of the big bad Slayer?”

“Shut up Spike,” Buffy answers as she delivers a nasty blow to his jaw, the aching from her powerful force echoing through his cheek.

“Bloody hell, woman, what do you want from me?” he says, rubbing his face.

“For one, don’t call me woman.”

“Fine, Slayer, what are you getting at?”

“I told you I want to play a game,” Buffy says, pouting her lips a little, running her hands along his chest, “and the first rule is, that you belong to me, get it?”

“Oh yeah, since when?” says Spike, rolling his eyes. “Are you going to tell your friends about us, about these little games you love so much?”

“Shut up Spike.” Buffy pulls her fist back, “unless you want me to hit you again?”

“Fine, I’m yours. What do you want from me?”

“Hmm, what do I want?” Buffy moves closer against him, sliding her hips until they lock in with his, their noses almost touching. She wraps her hands around his neck, squeezing.

“Ow, Buffy” Spike gasps as her grip tightens, “that hurts!”

“It’s supposed to,” she smirks, “I can tell you like it.”

He hardens beneath her, his body responding to the pain the way she knew it would. She releases his neck, moving her hands down to his collar.

“You know me so well, don’t you Slayer,” he laughs.

“Shut up!” Buffy says, ripping his shirt down the middle.

“Dammit Buffy, that’s my favorite one!” he says, holding up the tattered remains, “now I’ll have to steal another.”

She pulls him in close, her lips to his ear. Spike tries not to shake as his whole body tenses from the feel of her on top of him, from her breath, her soft skin.

“I told you not to call me Buffy,” she whispers, biting him on the neck, roughly.

He groans with the pain, but it only makes him harder, makes him want her more.

“It’s your turn to see how it feels,” she says before she pulls herself away from him, standing up. Spike rubs his neck, trying to pretend he’s annoyed when really he just wants her to do it again, to do anything that involves her touching him.

“So, what’s the game, Slayer?” he asks, trying to sound cool.

Buffy picks up the bag from the floor and pulls out heavy shackles and chains.

“It’s about trust, Spike,” she says. His eyes widen. He flinches a little as the chains clang loudly when she drops them onto the table.

She lifts up her black halter, slowly, revealing her smooth skin and bare breasts beneath. Spike opens his mouth, tilting his head slightly as he eyes her lustfully.

“So, do you trust me?” she asks.

“Well now, this could be incredibly kinky, and in that case, I’m in,” he says, running his fingers through his peroxide blonde hair.  He stands up, walking towards her, “Or maybe, you’ve decided you’re done with the games, and you have a stake in that bag,” he says as he circles around her, looking down into her green eyes. He stops.

“Maybe you’ll kill me.”

“Hmmm, I guess you’re right, Spikey,” Buffy answers, her voice mockingly sweet, “are you scared?”

“Hardly,” he scoffs back.  “Fine, I’ll play. You might as well put me out of my damn misery anyway, it’s not like I have anything to live for.”

“Oh, don’t say that Spikey, you have plenty to live for…at least until I’m done with you. Now be a good beastie and do as I say.”

Buffy walks over to the bed, feeding the chain through solid metal hooks on the wall.

“Down, Spike,” she says, nodding at the bed. He lies down, letting her lock the cuffs around his wrists.

“So, what’ll it be Slayer? What do you want from me?” he says, trying to mask his slight fear and overwhelming longing for her.

“You know what I want,” she says as she pulls off his pants, revealing his hard, pale, icy cock.

Spike smiles his evil smile, ready to get down to it, but Buffy punches him in the chest, her little knuckles leaving his skin burning.

“Ow, bloody hell!”

“I want to hurt you,” Buffy says, “And I want you to like it.”

This time she slaps his chin, his neck twisting from the power of her hand, the pain echoing through his skin and downwards.

“I like it,” he says, “You know I do.”

“Good,” she says, pulling off her boots, jeans, and lacy panties.

Buffy jumps on top of him, straddling him again, but this time she rubs herself over his cock, her clit tingling as it grazes him.

She grabs his nipples, her super strength pinching them way past the point of light foreplay. It feels like she’s ripping them off. Spike growls, his arms thrashing as he tries to break free. Buffy stops, staring at him solemnly. He thinks he sees love in her sad eyes, something real. His thoughts are interrupted as she slaps him again, without breaking her gaze. And again, and again.

Just as he begins to feel dizzy, his head pounding, she stops. She leans in and kisses him, and everything disappears, the aching he always feels, the pain, the longing. There’s only her sweet taste, her opposing strength and her soft feel, her smell.

And suddenly, a sharp jab at his heart. Literally. While she was kissing him, she’d reached beside the bed and pulled a stake out of her bag. He stiffens as she presses it lightly on his skin, smiling now.

Spike’s eyes widen; this time he can’t think of a witty comment. He looks up at her, half hoping she’s serious, that she’ll just kill him already.

Oh, what’s the use, he thinks. He relaxes his body, giving in. He closes his eyes. He feels the sharp end begin to pierce his skin, blood trickling lightly. The pain is nothing compared to what’s inside, beneath it. “Just do it already,” he says. Just when he thinks it’s really over, Buffy slides his cock inside her and clenches her warm wetness around him.

Spike moans, opening his eyes. Her hair falls over her face and her beautiful breasts, and she looks down on him, gasping. “Tell me you’re mine, Spike,” she says as she thrusts her hips, her hand pressing against where the stake was, blood smearing beneath her fingers.

“You know I’m always yours,” he says.

Dark Thoughts

Warning: This post includes a gang bang scenario. 

It’s as if they’re hiding somewhere inside of my head. They only come alive when my eyes shut. I know they’re coming, and I try to think of something more…normal.

But sometimes I can’t stop them.

***

Shut up and open your mouth like a good little slut. Spread your legs. Wider.

If you struggle, it’ll only be worse.

You know you want it anyway. You know you want to suck cock until you gag, until your eyes water. That’s it, take it in deeper. All the way, you can do it.

That’s a good little slut, nice and messy. Drool is a good look for you. Do you like that, slut?

You need more, don’t you? Your legs are shaking, do you think you’re done? You aren’t even full yet, slut.

Which hole should we use next? Her cunt is already wet from the taste of cock. Don’t worry, you’ll get what you deserve, slut.

Pinch her nipples, grab those perfect little breasts.

You’re confused aren’t you slut? You don’t know how many of us there are?

I heard you whimper when he grazed your clit. That was an accident slut, you don’t get any of that yet.  You don’t get to come until we’re all done with you. And only if you’re a good little slut.

Look how easily my cock slides into that wet little pussy. Keep sucking. You like that don’t you, fingers in your ass?

Let’s switch places. No, I want her cunt now. Fine, I want her mouth. Who wants her ass?

She’s such a greedy little slut, she needs more. Get the lube. Stuff her.

Slap her face. Harder.

Don’t forget about her tits. Harder.

Do you like that, slut? No answer? Got your mouth full, slut?

I bet your clit wants some attention. Give it to her. Don’t be gentle. Slap it. Choke her. She likes it.

Looks at this wet mess you’ve made slut. I can feel your cunt twitching slut, did we say you could come? Did we say we’re done yet?

You’ll pay for this slut. We can go for hours. You’ll break a new record.

Once we fill you with our come, we won’t need that lube anymore will we slut? Don’t worry though, we won’t stop. There’s a whole room full of us.

Don’t worry, there’s enough of you to go around. Every time you come, we’ll fuck you harder.

You can’t help it, can you slut? We know what you need.

You want more cock, don’t you slut?

Don’t worry, you’ll get what you want.

***

This post was inspired by the Wicked Wednesday prompt ‘Dark Thoughts.”

wickedwed

Little Red

From the time she was a little girl, Little Red’s mother always told her who she was. You’re so sweet, she’d say, so innocent and kind. You’re so beautiful, with your perfect, pale skin and deep, shining blue eyes.

Every day she dressed her in frills and lace, tying her pigtails neatly, lacing her little body up tight with a cream colored corset, layering on petticoats and stockings. The finishing touch was always her flowing red cape, the only color in her various ensembles.

Little Red’s mother never let her leave their home or their yard, warning her of the dangers in the neighboring woods. She said there was a Big Bad Wolf out there, a huge, ugly creature with sharp teeth who ate little girls. Whenever she heard strange sounds from the forest at night, Little Red pulled the covers over her face, afraid the wolf would come to get her.

Little Red tried her best to be a good girl, hiding behind her hood whenever she went outside. She kept her eyes low and her voice soft. Little Red always did as she was told.

But as years passed and Little Red matured, she grew tired of the itchy lace, the restrictive clothing, and most of all, the expectation that she would always be perfect Little Red, quiet and proper.

One day, while Little Red’s mother went to town for a few days, Little Red grew bored and restless. She wandered outside, yearning to know what was beyond their picket fence. The summer’s heat was suffocating, and she felt like she might faint. If her mother had been around, she would have told her to go inside and lie down, to rest. But Little Red was tired of listening to mother.

Beads of sweat dripping down her back, Little Red decided to try to cool off, so she could explore further. She kicked off her shoes and peeled off her stockings, instantly relieved by the freeing feeling of air on her bare legs. She pulled off her petticoat, and after some struggle, managed to untie her corset, letting it drop to the ground. She removed everything except her cape, since she’d always liked it. It was the only color in her monotonous life.

As she walked towards the front gate, Little Red caught a glimpse of her reflection in the silver mailbox and was surprised by what she saw: two round, perky breasts, a small waist, curvy hips, a little bush of hair between her legs, and a slit of flesh below it.  She’d never really looked at herself naked before, at least not all together at once. She realized she was beautiful, even without the lace and the gowns.

With only her cape, Little Red ran away from her house and into the woods, afraid of what she might find, but tired of feeling scared, sheltered, and weak. The terrain was uneven, so she used a long stick that she found to help her along her trek. So far nothing seemed frightening,  and the sound of birds singing comforted her.

As she came around a large tree, Little Red saw something peculiar on the ground. At first she was thought it was some sort of small creature, but it wasn’t moving. She approached it cautiously, and found that it was a long white and grey tail, but it didn’t belong to any animal. When she picked it up, she realized it had a piece of glass attached to it, as if it were some sort of decoration.

pennysblog_littlered1

Confused, Little Red sat in front of the big tree, feeling the smooth glass and running her fingers through the soft fur. She had no idea what it was for, but she sat there for a while, mesmerized by its beauty.

The longer she held the tail, the more Little Red realized how unhappy she’d been lately, how sad and unsatisfied. She petted the smooth fur as she thought, calmed by it. For a moment she considered returning home with the tail, so she could find out who it belonged to, when suddenly she realized, beyond a doubt, that the tail was in fact meant for her.

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As if by magic, the glass piece attached to the tail was cold despite the heat outside, and Little Red dragged it across her bare skin, first on her neck and around her breasts, then moving lower. Her skin tingled, and wetness blossomed between her thighs. Her eyes, which were usually wide, half closed as she moaned, her legs shaking and her breath wavering, as she reached her first high of orgasmic pleasure.

Afterwards, Little Red collapsed in a heap on the ground, panting. Now she knew why her mother had tried to hide her beneath layers of clothing, and why she wouldn’t let her alone in the forest. Little Red had discovered the power her body was capable of. She wasn’t a perfect little porcelain girl at all, she was meant to be wild. Nothing could stop her.

She shed her cape, the last thing holding her back, and lay on the forest floor, writhing in the leaves and dirt, the sun warming her naked flesh. Little Red finally knew what to do. She took the cool glass piece of the tail and rolled over on her side, touching herself. As she reached her second orgasm, she pushed the glass into herself from behind. She gasped as it entered her, as she transformed.

She rose from the ground, reborn, blood coursing through her veins with a heat from deep within her. She saw the red cape on the ground and almost didn’t recognize it.

pennysblog_littlered4

She wasn’t Little Red anymore.

She laughed at the thought of who she’d once been, that scared, frilly little girl. She got on all fours and wagged her tail, growling. A fierce, lustful hunger consumed her.

***

When Little Red’s mother finally returned home from town, she was distraught to find that Little Red wasn’t in her room. As she looked all around the house, she heard a chilling howl in the distance, a sound unlike anything she’d heard before. It resembled that of a wolf, but slightly higher pitched, and much more frightening. She shuddered, worried that she’d never see her Little Red again.

Photography: Epic Studios

Model: Me

Tail: Crystal Delights Arctic Marble Fox

Sinful Sunday

His for the Night

It was my first time.
I knew he could tell;
His blue eyes reflected
My nervousness, and
His excitement.

“Take off your panties,” he said,
“Leave your heels on.”
I tried my best to look calm
As I slid them off, slowly.
His look was like a touch,

Moving from my feet to my legs,
Pausing at my cunt, then up
To my stomach,
My breasts,
My neck, lingering
On my face.

My skin tingled.
By the time he kissed me,
I was already wet.

He didn’t have to say the words,
I could feel them.
His rough hands pulled me in.

“You’re mine,” they said.

His for the NightPhoto of Jake and I by Steve DeMent Photography

*This image was published in  Fetfan Magazine Issue 04 (p.28)

Sinful Sunday

Playing With Adam

Jake looks delicious lying on the bed in his blue boxer briefs, his curly hair still damp from a shower.

“Want a bj?” I ask, sitting down next to him.

He looks up, smiling, “No, I hate those.”

“Oh really?” I say, gently feeling his form over fabric.

Soon he has my tank off and one breast in his mouth and the other in his hand, pinching gently.

“Last night I had a sex dream and an orgasm in my sleep,” I say as my nipples stiffen. “I was tied up and taken advantage of, and I loved it.”

My left breast is warm beneath his lips, and my right tingling in the cool air after a lick.

“At one point I remember having your cock in my mouth while being fucked by another man.”

“That’s hot,” he says, reaching beneath my panties, tracing my lips.

“Let’s play with Adam,” I say.

A little while later, I’m lying on my back, and Jake is kneeling above me, hovering and ready.

“I want your cock in my mouth,” I say. I feel Adam’s tip teasing my vulva, without entering yet.

I open, Jake thrusts, and I moan around him as my throat is filled with his hardness and at the same time my cunt with Adam’s. I take him in all the way, and suck and suck and forget to breathe until he pulls out, gasping as he rubs himself on my face. Adam moves faster now, and every push feels intensified by the pressure of his girth on my g-spot.

“I’m a good little slut, aren’t I?” I ask as I gasp for air and think about how I must remember to breathe next time.

“Yes, you are.”

He moves Adam away from me, freeing my hands.

“Put your hands on my cock,” he says. Now Adam’s pace matches Jake’s, fast thrusts that seem to echo inside of me. My bush is sticky with a mixture of juices and lube, and Jake grabs it, pulling it roughly, how I like it.

My body skips back and forth between my twitching, full cunt, and my wide, full mouth, both dripping.

Jake pulls out again, and shoves my head lower. He’s still wet with my spit, and I stroke him while I lick and suck his balls. He touches my clit for the first time, and my head swirls, my muscles tightening and aching for release.

I moan, moving even lower to his ass, until all I can see and smell is his flesh. I attack it, firing my tongue in rapid circles.

“Oh fuck that feels good,” he says, groaning.

I moan back in answer from below him, and somehow I’m able to keep licking and stroking as I come hard, clenching around Adam as my hips grind up against Jake’s fingers. My pleasure fuels Jake’s, and he joins me in orgasm, his thighs tightening as he squirts onto my neck, my chin, and a few tasty drops on my lips.

Afterwards Jake and I clean up a bit and head to the kitchen to make dinner.

Having served his purpose, Adam gets a quick shower and returns to his drawer, until next time.

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