Milk and Cookies and Handcuffs

The little minx behind the counter just stared at him, speechless. He towered over her, a petite redhead dressed in a tight fitting red sweater that left little to his overactive imagination. He couldn't see much of the black slacks she had on, but if the rest of her looked as good, he was in for a treat. The waves of lust emanating from her were like a homing beacon to the gnawing hunger in his gut. He felt it burn through him while he was basking in the glow of the holiday lights. The force of feeling behind her emotion was staggering, and he held onto the counter with a death grip to avoid leaping over it and taking her right there. The sound of holiday carols playing in the background mixed with the heady scent of baking cookies and spiced cider made his heart happy.

"Is it for sale?" The smile in his eyes burned bright with a sensual flame. He notched it up a little, just to see what she would do. The game was on.

"What?" A squeak emanated from her and a half smile trembled over her lips. "The tree? Oh, um. Let me ask. Gracie would know."

The redhead looked around and called out to a black haired beauty that emerged from the back of the store.

"Gracie!" Red motioned her over, her relief palpable.

"Yes, sir. How can I help?" Gracie made her way to the register, setting down the tray of cookies she had been carrying.

Jonas motioned to the front window with a wave of his hand. "I am in need of a holiday tree. Is this one by chance for sale?"

She broke into a friendly smile. "Of course. Or I can have Holly come out to your home and set up a new tree with whatever theme you'd like." She held out the tray and offered him a cookie.

Gingerbread. Delightful. He took two.

"Thank you." He bit into one and had to stifle a moan. Delicious. How long had it been since he had tasted something that felt like home? Too long. He needed the warmth in his life. Especially now. "Who did this one?" He caressed the tree with his eyes.

"Holly, you can fess up." Gracie beamed.

Holly sputtered and turned a perfect shade of red.

"How wonderful." The glow of his smile was directed at them both, but the heat of it was sent to Holly. He took out his credit card, deliberately not looking at her, and laid it on the counter.

"Money is no object. I would like to hire you to decorate my home. Tomorrow night would be the most convenient. I will be having guests for the holidays." Would he ever. A few demons. A new soul to send to Hell and maybe Lucifer himself would pop over to give him his get out of jail free card. As long as that bastard Baal stayed out of his way, things would be fine.

-- from "Holidays in Hell" by Erzabet Bishop


"Blessed First Day!"

Ellis cracked open an eye to see William's boyish grin, and then grumbled and rolled over into the warm spot William had abandoned for Ferra only knew what reason. He pulled the blankets over his head with a paw and closed his eyes, but it was impossible to ignore the excited thump of William's heart when his own kept pace with it. Still, it was warm in the bed. And he enjoyed being warm and comfortable and allowed to lounge even when his Master obviously wanted him up.

The bed bounced when William jumped on it, trapping Ellis beneath the blanket and William's limbs, not that Ellis was complaining. He snuffled, and then wormed his way to poke his head out the top. That earned him a smile and a kiss on the nose. "Good morning."

Mornings were better when he slept in later, but they were pretty good when they started with his Master's kisses. Even if that was every morning. He purred, leaning up for more kisses, stretching his snow leopard neck until it melted seamlessly into a human neck and human lips. William took pity, digging his fingers through Ellis' curls to hold his head as their mouths sealed together, slick tongues sliding, stroking, grinding against one another until Ellis was moaning and squirming in his blanketed prison.

"Want something?" William asked, teasing along Ellis' pulse with his thumbs.

Ellis finagled one arm out, latched on to William's neck, and pulled him down again. "You, Master, you." He may have whimpered, but it was swallowed up by William's mouth.

William left nips and kisses across his lips, his chin, down his jaw, where his Master whispered, "But it's First Day, Ellis. Surely you want to get up?"

"I am up." He freed a second arm and used it as leverage to pull the rest of his body from the confines and twist their positions so he could splay his naked body over William. Trying not to rut against the nice clothes. "Why are you dressed?"

"Because it's First Day, and we're going downstairs soon."

Ellis pouted and paused in unbuttoning William's shirt. "Why?"

"To celebrate." He carded his fingers through Ellis' curls, frowning. "You never celebrated First Day, did you?"

"No, old master kept me in the cage for First Day. Said Familiars were punished for their failings that day."

William smirked. "You don't look too worried about that happening today."

"Of course not. Old master was full of lies. Plus," Ellis grinned and leaned down to touch noses, "I've never failed you."

-- from "Gift of the Familiar" by Alex Whitehall


"Hello? It's Ebet!" I shouted, but there was no need to. Even though there were grocery sacks on the table, the kitchen was cold. The house was empty.

"We've got a few hours before they turn up, I'm guessing," I said. "Let me call Mom and ask what bedrooms she wants us to have."

As I called, Meg poked around the house, investigating the wood burning stove, the huge living room fire place with long wooden fire benches draped in cow hides set in front of it, the endless bedrooms and massive dining room that stretched the entire length of the front of the house and already had four folding tables set up end to end and covered in cloths for dinner that night, exclaiming in appreciation just like I knew she would. Mom confirmed my suspicions: they had come up the day before to clean and drop off a load of supplies, and would be bringing Grandma and Papi in two hours, which would probably be more like three. Two aunts and three uncles would be showing up in their own time, with a grab bag of cousins coming or not coming with whoever decided to bring them. My brother Marcus would be coming in the late afternoon with his wife Karen, and Dad was getting Lily and Serenity—a toddler now—from over the mountain, and would probably be last of all of them to get in. I promised to warm the house up and make the beds before she let me hang up.

"This place is amazing!" Meg decided as I pocketed the cell phone.

"Grandma and Papi bought it as a place for the family to go when they had to get away from people. We've been coming up here for New Year's for as long as I can remember," I told her as I sorted through the bags on the table: beer, wine, cider, soda, fireworks...

A hand on my bare back under all the sweaters stopped me, and I could feel my skin prickle in that lovely way. I tried to straighten, turn—

"No, stay bent over like that; there's a good girl," Meg told me, and her soft, warm lips pressed to the back of my neck for a moment before she opened her mouth and bit hard into the skin, making me gasp and my pussy tingle. She tongued the flesh expertly, sucking and working her mouth and scraping her teeth against the skin, making it painful and pleasurable all at once.

"Is that what you want?" she asked when she let go, and I could only nod. There were no racist uncles, no difficult mothers anywhere in the world, just her fingernails trailing up my back and around to cup my breast, pinch the nipple, and twist until I felt myself getting embarrassingly wet. She squared off behind me, my ass against her hips, and slid a hand down the front of my jeans. Meg ran a fingertip over my pussy, brought her hand out wet, and put it to my mouth; I obediently licked my wetness from her fingers, salty-sweet and smelling of sex.

-- from "Pushing the Line" by Verity Blackthorn


She adjusted her panties and smiled at my lustful gaze. "I want to watch you come," she said.

I reached for my cock without a word, and grabbed it hard, letting the pain of my own rough touch arouse me. I stroked patiently, enjoying the feel of her slickness along my shaft, but that small lubrication was quickly gone. Each stroke became a torment as the beaten flesh protested my rough grip and the skin along my shaft cried out at the friction. Pleasure built within me until I was just on the edge of orgasm.

With my other hand, I reached around my cock and took hold of my balls, squeezing firmly as if to squeeze the orgasm out. I cried out with the sensation and come spurted from my cock, landing in a hot, sticky stream along my belly and chest. I lay gasping, exhausted from the combination of pain and pleasure that had been washing through me for—what?—half an hour or more?

Athena hummed happily, and then bent and pulled her jeans back on. I watched the slip of white fabric vanish beneath her fly and sighed. "You're so beautiful," she said. She stroked my hair again, and helped me sit up. "Why don't you go shower?"

I stood and kissed her cheek, and then nuzzled at her neck for a second before gathering my clothes and heading to the bathroom. I dumped the clothes on the bed in our bedroom, and turned on the hot water in the shower. It felt good to wash away the streaks of come across my body. I like a good orgasm as much as the next person, but I have always hated the disgusting cream that is semen.

Guys are messy, I thought, sighing as I lathered up a sponge. I scrubbed my upper body first, daydreaming about the way Athena had punished my cock and balls. I loved it when we got to focus on those parts, beating them or slapping them or pinching them—punishing them for existing. The thought struck me for the first time as odd, and I stopped, turning it over in my head as the hot water streamed over me.

If they were naughty for just existing, then what would 'good' entail?

The pieces had been swirling around me for months, maybe years, perhaps even since the very first time that Athena and I had played together six years before. For the first time, they all fit together with a click that echoed through my mind. My body went cold, even under the spray of hot water, and I glanced down at the cock and balls that I had always found mildly offensive.

With a shaking hand—a hand I had always thought too large and inelegant—I lifted my cock and examined it. It sat flaccid and perhaps a little swollen from the beating, the head tucked neatly within my foreskin. Inoffensive. Except it wasn't. I let it go and cupped my balls instead, squeezing them just hard enough to be uncomfortable, as I had done since I was young. Because they deserved pain, just for being there. Because women shouldn't have balls.

-- from "Gift of Self" by Kathleen Tudor


Kyle was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost didn't hear the soft knock at his door. He looked at the clock and saw that, yes, his time was up. Kyle took a deep breath, stood up from the bed, and went to open the door, expecting Amber, as Ryan would have knocked louder. But, no, it was Kimber. Kyle blinked in surprise. He was still naked, his usual state around the house, but if she noticed, she didn't seem to care.

"Can I come in?" She had a lilting, little-girl voice that made Kyle weak in the knees. Her hair was still wet from the shower, and she was wearing only a sheer robe that showed off as much as it hid. He had to give Amber credit; she knew what he liked.

"Uhh... sure," Kyle said, though it took him a few seconds to remember that he had to move out of the doorway to let her in. "Did they send you in here?"

Kimber shook her head as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I asked. I thought it might help if we talked. You're probably as nervous about this as I am."

Kyle thought about the maelstrom of doubts he'd been wading through for the past sixty minutes. "You could say that."

"I don't want to take them from you, if that's what you're afraid of."

"That's part of it," he admitted. "The other part is them choosing you over me."

She laughed again and tucked a wayward strand of red hair behind her ear. "You're adorable. You're also completely oblivious if you think that's even possible. Amber was very clear with me from the start. They love you; you're family. Maybe, one day, I'll be part of that, but ‘til then, your voice is as good as theirs when it comes to me."

Kyle just stared. He knew that Ryan and Amber cared about him, even loved him. But family?

"Amber also said for me to tell you that you don't have to decide anything right away. It's not like my bags are packed ready to move in tomorrow. Tonight, I'm just your gift. Whether you want more than that can come later." She patted the bed next to her, beckoning him. Kyle sat beside her, and Kimber immediately put her head on his shoulder. "Can I sleep in here tonight? I had a bad dream."

"You had... what? I don't—"

Kimber cut him off with a finger to his lips. "Shh," she whispered. "Just play with me. Please?"

-- from "The Sub's Gift" by S.L. Armstrong & Erik Moore