Midnight Raunch

– The First Launch –

Slave To Love, Anna Fallon
When the end of submissive Marissa’s three-month trial period with Dominant lover Rick nears, she’s ready to do anything to see that he keeps her.

Master Husband, Anna Fallon
Becoming a motorcycle cop might prove very exciting indeed for Steven Barret. His fetish for leather comes out with a surprising gang member.

Orola, the Warrior Priestess, The Kiir, Herbert Grosshans
She found shelter and love when she needed it. For a short time, she was happy and ecstatic to be part of a miraculous transformation.

Buttered Fingers, Mae Powers
Kitty wanted to make her fantasy a reality; but she needed to find just the right man for her unusual, but pleasurable whim.

Getting It On, Mae Powers
Johnny has desired Sarah for a long time now. He’d love to make this hot babe completely his. Problem: Does she want him too?

Ten and Counting, Randall Lang
It’s been ten years since she has seen her old school friend. Their reunion ignites V-E-R-Y adult feelings, and in a restaurant of all places.

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EXCERPTS

Slave To Love
by Anna Fallon

Waiting could be such a bitch! Where the hell is he anyway? A thick lock of dark hair flopped into her eyes, obscuring her vision. “Shit…bloody hair is always in the way!” Marissa’s long hair annoyed her at times. “One day I’ll get it chopped off, I swear!”

“No, you won’t.” A familiar commanding voice spoke.

The voice startled her, even though she half expected Rick to sneak up on her; he always seemed to surprise her anyway. Wincing slightly as he wrapped her hair around his hand, he pulled her head back. Marissa’s leant back to allow his forceful kiss to sting her lips. The surge of want hit her just a suddenly as his approach.

Marissa joined her local BDSM club, Frisk, about 2 years ago. More as a social member than anything, her curiosity about the lifestyle led her to want to learn more. Every relationship she’d ever had seemed to be unfulfilling. Marissa harbored a fascination about being a submissive. She met a submissive out clubbing one night and she convinced her to go along for a look.

Once she got to know everybody it was really cool and she loved it. Marissa became an observer, invited along to special nights, but not expected to take part until she found a person she felt comfortable being dominated by. For a year, that person never came along. Then one night Rick strode in. She noticed him right away. It took about six months, but finally Marissa knew she wanted to be Rick’s submissive.

She remembered the way Rick strode up to her. His intensity excited her. She wanted him like no other man. After long discussions and passionate sessions, Rick introduced her to the life of a slave, his slave. Marissa fell head over heels in love and she wanted to please him. In fact, seeing his pleasure became her greatest satisfaction. Marissa intended to stay with Rick, if he would have her. She just hoped he loved her back as much as she loved him. He said he did, but a lifetime commitment could be another story.

Under mutual agreement, the three-month trial period was almost up. As a safety net, they both had the chance to have an ‘out’ if either wanted it, no questions asked. Marissa did not want out, if Rick did she wasn’t sure what she would do.

“The hair stays…right!” Not a question, never a question. Rick gave her another kiss, this one, on the verge of bruising her lips. Seeping wetness gathered at the cloth of her panties and, remembering he’d told her to wear none, a beading of sweat formed on her brow.

“Yes, Rick, the hair stays.”

His lips gently brushed hers, the softness of his tongue ran over the outline of her mouth. Her heart skipped a beat as he nibbled so gently. Rick knew how to make her feel cherished. When she pleased him, he showered her with sweetness. When she displeased him, Rick’s ways of punishment took Marissa to the edge of sexual extremes. Then he held her and lavished her with tenderness, Marissa could not imagine ever being with anyone else. And yes, just like today, she sometimes purposely displeased him. Admitting she was a dirty slut who loved to get nasty was half the fun.

“Good girl. Now, how are you, my lovely?” His fingers played over the front of her silk top, her nipples forced hard against the material. Kissing her gently again, roaming his tongue softly around the crevices of her open mouth. Opening her mouth to him completely, Marissa throbbed with desire.

“I’m fine, thank you, Rick. How are you?” Her laughter as sweet as a babbling brook, Rick smiled. He did love her, very much.

The thought of losing her frightened him. Insecurities convinced him a creature as gorgeous as Marissa would never stay with someone like him of her own accord. But here she was. None of his previous girlfriend’s possessed the courage or strength to submit. He would never hurt Marissa, Rick took care not to push her too far, too soon. Today would see if she truly loved and trusted him. Today would prove once and for all, if the last three months would become permanent and perhaps the massive solitaire diamond ring in his pocket could find its way onto her perfect finger.

“Ah my love, I am fine now thatI am here with you.” Rick usually made himself late because he stood watching her. Amazed at her beauty and the things she allowed him to do, her willingness to please. You could never pretend to be a submissive; subs had a will to serve and please, it was the thing that made them happiest. It wasn’t about weakness. His hands lingered on her pert ass cheeks, squeezing his appreciation of her rock hard, muscular body.

Closing her eyes, knowing what was ahead, Marissa braced herself. Stopping his hands on the seam of her underwear, Rick’s hand quickly traveled back up and gathered a handful of hair.

“You bitch, you little bitch...I told you, no underwear. None, you hear me? You’ll have to be punished, won’t you?” His burning eyes showed the passion of anger he felt. Marissa, thrilled at his mood, knew what followed would be wonderful. Painful but wonderful, her favorite kind of enjoyment.

“Yes,” her voice faltered. Grateful they were in a very quiet park, early in the morning, Marissa managed to squeak out an apology. Eager to take her punishment, her pussy clenched with need. Begging would be to no avail, she would have to take what was coming to her. No problems.

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Orola, the Warrior Priestess – The Kiir
by Herbert Grosshans

Chapter One

They sat unmoving among the branches of a giant Scrip-tree, the foliage hiding them from anyone looking up. There were five of them. Scruffy looking men with stoic brutal faces. Only their black eyes seemed alive as they watched the river below.

The object of their attention stood looking at the briskly flowing water.

A naked young woman. She had arrived some time earlier. After tethering her steed, she shed her rather skimpy clothing, consisting only of a short kilt, a strip of cloth to cover her pubic area and a pair of metal breast cups, hardly large enough to cover much of her ample breasts.

Testing the water with one foot, she seemed to hesitate, but then with a shrug, she dove into the water, her naked body glistening white in the midday sun.

She hit the water and one of the watchers grunted. His lips parted to reveal brown, rotten teeth. The others nodded and silently they began to move through the branches.

Climbing down on the hidden side of the thick tree trunk, they reached the soft forest floor and, without making a sound, two of them moved towards the girl’s steed. One took her clothing and the other one tried to untie the animal.

When the black coated beast snorted, the girl looked towards the commotion and called out sharply. Then she began swimming towards shore.

Letting go of the beast’s rope, the man looked at her and grinned. His companion had already disappeared.

She climbed ashore and looked at the spot where she left her clothing and her sword, realizing they were gone. “What do you want?” she demanded.

The man grinned, his eyes raking her naked form. They rested momentarily on the thick black triangle below her smooth flat belly, then moved up to her round, large breasts, his attention suddenly on the red glowing object nestled in the deep cleft between them.

“Well?” she said, staring defiantly at him.

“I want you,” he said, his voice thickly accented and his words slurred.

The girl laughed, shaking her long black hair. “You want me?” she taunted. “You and how many other men?”

Still grinning, he said, “Four.”

Hearing the breaking of a twig behind her, she turned and looked at the two men approaching her. She stepped to the side and watched them coming closer, her body suddenly falling into a fighting stance.

Noticing her position, the two men slowed, but didn’t stop. “Don’t try to fight us,” one of them said. “We are five…you are just one helpless girl.”

She took one step backwards. The jewel between her breasts pulsed with a steady rhythm. “I may be just a girl, but I’m not helpless.” She whirled with a sudden movement, her knee came up and rammed into the belly of the man who tried to sneak up on her. He howled and dropped to the ground, his hands clutching his belly.

The other two rushed her and tried to grab her arms. She hit one of them in the face with her right fist, while the ball of her foot smashed into the chest of the other one. Rolling away from them, she came up, but collapsed, as a thrown club hit the side of her head.

* * * *

As the blackness engulfed her, she felt being pinned to the ground and the heavy weight of a body bearing down on her.

How long she was out, she couldn’t tell. In the first moments of returning to consciousness, she became aware of a weight on top of her. She lay on her back, spread-eagled, her arms and legs tied to stakes driven into the ground. Between her legs, one of her attackers moved lazily.

Opening her eyes, she stared into his bearded face. He grinned when he saw her open eyes, grunted and stiffened as his body began to shudder.

After he rolled away, another one took his place.

“Maybe you can move a little this time,” he said and grinned.

The girl closed her eyes, bit her lip, and tried to keep from screaming. Concentrating on the jewel between her breasts, she encountered only emptiness.

Silently crying out, she realized the Holy Communicator was gone. They must have taken it from her while she lay unconscious. There was nothing left for her to do but suffer through the ordeal.

She drifted in and out of consciousness, while they took turns on her. They seemed insatiable. Darkness descended when the last one finally finished.

She could hear them as they moved away, towards the stream. Listening to their splashing and subdued laughter, she wondered if it was really over now or if they would come back to her in awhile.

To carry on. Or maybe to kill her.

Aware of nothing else but a deep painful throbbing between her legs and in her womb, she didn’t really care what they did. She was beyond feeling any real pain.

She opened her eyes again and turned her head slowly to look at them. They were clearly visible in the setting sun and the image of their faces burned into her memory. If she lived, she would hunt them down, one by one. They would pay for what they had done to her.

While she watched them, one looked into her direction, grinned and came swaggering towards her. Fondling himself into an erection, he fell between her legs and mounted her again.

She looked into his black eyes.

“I will kill you for this,” she whispered.

He just laughed. “If you live,” he said hoarsely, clamping his mouth over hers. His breath stank of badly fermented wine and something rotten.

She ignored it. Let him have his way. She could have bitten him, but she didn’t.

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Buttered Fingers
by Mae Powers

  Kitty Samuels had a fantasy, one she intended very much to play out, and very, very soon. It was a weird fantasy really. In order to make her fantasy a reality, she had to find the right person. Not just any man would do. She would have to go into the red-light district of town to find what she wanted. She’d never been that daring before.

Kitty lived her life mostly in mid suburbia; occasionally getting out of town or going downtown to find some action. She felt as hot as any other red-blooded human female. She needed sex too to sustain her life. A dildo or a finger or two could only satisfy her so far. She needed to feel flesh in her pussy too.

Although what she had in mind, she would need a flesh-feeling dildo, she supposed. Yet, the hot stuff would be in the red district. It wasn’t illegal, it just cost a lot to party there. She’d saved up big time for this fantasy and was determined to find a person to do it with soon. She’d had no luck at the normal rounds of parties and pubs. She just didn’t find the person who made her want to suck and fuck. He, or maybe a she, had to be here somewhere.

At the new swingers’ bar, Play-Time she finally thought she saw the man. Everyone who was anyone came to Play-Time. If you wanted something unusual, then it could be had here. For a hefty price, sometimes you got lucky when you wanted something different. She sat at the long, half-moon bar, sipping thoughtfully on a tall drink when she saw the young man. He was slightly tall, dark skinned and had the most beautiful gray eyes she’d ever seen on a man’s face. He was lovely to look up on too, sweet, almost ethereal in a sense and he made her cream immediately.

She wondered if he would be the one, to have her way with him. She hoped so. She almost spoke to him, but he sat down just one stool away from her and started talking to another young man there. Neither one of the two men were probably more than twenty-two, if that, but she hoped they were clean and legal. She took precautions even if she did play around from time to time.

Kitty motioned to the bartender to buy the gray-eyed man whatever he was drinking. She listened close to the conversation going on around the area, but tried to hear over the din what the two men were talking about. The black haired, gray-eyed cutie leaned in closer to his blond friend. He had such kissable lips.

However, it was more than his lips Kitty wanted to kiss. She eyed his buttocks. Oh yeah, she loved the way he filled out those tight black jeans. High and rounded, she’d love to squeeze them for a bit before she stroked his ass with her tongue. She wanted to explore every inch of his tight looking cheeks.

The people around them got louder so she couldn’t hear the two men whispering to each other. The cutie-buns did look up when the bartender told him the drink was from her. He held up his drink to her and nodded in her direction. He gave her a half smile then sat down on the barstool next to hers, turning his back to her. She sighed. Well at least she tried. She turned back around and looked into the mirror, which was the backstage for a shelf of liqueurs. Briefly, she saw the blonde get up and leave the dark haired man.

When she heard the stool move and creak next to her she glanced up in the mirror to see that her hopeful had turned in her direction. She slowly turned around to get a better view of him.

“Thanks for the drink. I’m Solon.” His deep timbre belied the sweet looking man sitting next to her. He was just as handsome up close and his dark clothing of shirt and jeans only accentuated the broad shoulders and dark skin, but highlighted the piercing gray eyes. His smile made her cream even more.

Would she have a chance with him? There was only one way to find out. She held her glass up in his direction and smiled back at him.

“You’re welcome. My name’s Kitty.”

“With those catty green eyes of yours and that pretty honey mane, it’s no wonder the name is so apt,” he said in a complimentary tone. So what brings you to Play-Time?”

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Ten and Counting
by Randall Lang

I had known him since the fifth grade. He was tall and lanky, with stringy blond hair that fell across his large blue eyes. Even then his crooked grin could make me smile. Deep inside I knew that he was trouble to his very core, but I couldn’t help myself from being attracted to him. I loved the way he could easily encourage my mischief to come out and play; drawing me out of my shell to do things my shy nature would never otherwise allow. He was my ‘Stevie’, and I liked him just the way he was. The way his eyes would flash and his smile would beam holding me captivated. It seemed like the world around us would go away when I was with him.

Most of the kids at school considered us ‘outsiders’ and ‘geeks’. In reality we were just two awkward kids who didn’t fit in with the “cool” bunch or with any other bunch for that matter. No one else wanted us and we connected to each other almost immediately. He was sweet to me, as none of the other boys had been. He would appear by my side; rescuing me from the taunts of snippy girls and the cruel laughter of the boys. He seemed to always be there when I needed a friend, or someone to talk with, or when I just needed to laugh.

We remained best friends all through high school and swore to be close forever; but as will happen in life, following high school we went our separate ways and lost touch. I had not thought much about him as the whirlwind of the next ten years carried me along. Occasionally he would pop into my thoughts, like a phantom from a forgotten past flashing me an image of his smile or of his eyes.

After graduation the years seemed to fly by. Finding a job in the accounting department of the cardboard box manufacturing plant toward the south end of town started me down the road to responsible adulthood. Becoming a reliable and enthusiastic employee changed me from “Kathy Johnson, employee number 124” to “Kathy Johnson, Accounting Team Leader with a fifty cent per hour raise, a box of business cards, and two extra work hours per day.

But even with a degree of success at work, my life still felt empty. Coming home to an apartment with just a cat to greet me left me feeling hollow. I had often thought that it would be great to get back to the fun and spontaneity that I’d found with Stevie. Having a friend that I just enjoyed being with was something that I genuinely missed. But trusted friends were hard to come by, especially for someone like me with my lack of confidence.

I would not try the bar scene since most of the patrons were the people that I could never get along with in school. My self esteem suffered a beating in the early days and I still found it hard to fit in. My computer became my social window to find and explore other walks of life. E-mail became a way for me to meet and stay in touch with online friends. It was new and exciting! I signed up on one of those classmate reunion sites hoping to find Stevie, but as the weeks passed and the spam and unsolicited “Hey Babe” e-mails rolled in, my interest in the site waned.

Then one day I received an e-mail which I almost deleted without reading until “Grove Street” caught my eye. Someone was asking if I was the girl he knew who used to live on Grove Street. The sender had the same surname as Stevie. After all these years, could it be him? My fingers typed a fast response asking if he was Stevie.

 The hours seemed like days until the response arrived. So nervous and yet so excited, I hesitated opening the message. But when I did, my eyes grew large and I caught my breath as those words appeared upon the screen.

“Hi Kiddo! It’s your Stevie.”