Erik Ash

Category: Erotica

To Lay Bare

To Lay Bare

            Samuel and Hannah were pleasantly satiated, and perhaps a little flush with wine as they rode in the back of a taxi cab through the snowy streets of metropolis.  To all prying eyes they were merely an ordinary couple ending an ordinary Friday night dinner date. 

            Samuel was a serious-looking man with a dark complexion.  He had short, dark wavy hair and a muscled body, although that fact was currently obscured under respectable evening wear.  Warmth emanated from him as he smiled at Hannah.

She blushed under his smile.  She had short, curly bright blonde hair and a little mole next to her right eye.  Her very deep dimples made her simply exude a kind of airy brightness. 

The brakes squealed a little as the taxi stopped at the front of their apartment.  Samuel clasped Hannah’s waist firmly as she tried to navigate the icy sidewalks in a pair of absurd high-heeled shoes, black with striking red stitching.  Her black wool coat was longer than her dress and swept about her knees as they sauntered home.

Neither spoke as they stood in the elevator, which gently hummed on its way to the fourth floor.  Their bodies bristled in silent anticipation.

Their apartment was thoroughly ordinary.  The paint upon the walls was ambient and comfortable.  Their kitchen was filled with all the ordinary, brand-name appliances one would expect.  Their furniture was chic, modern, and factory-made. 

In fact, the apartment was much like its occupants:  normal on the outside yet filled with dark delights.  They would occasionally throw dinner parties for work colleagues or friends, but no one ever knew that hidden under the bed; there were chains and leather restraints.  No one knew about Samuel’s paddle, hidden under boxes of shoes; or that a black leather collar, embedded with a little sapphire jewel, inhabited a prominent place in Hannah’s jewelry box.  Not a single person ever guessed what was strapped around Hannah’s waist.

Hannah removed her long, woolen coat to reveal a startlingly short, bright red evening dress.  “Take off that garish piece of fabric,” Samuel ordered.  “I can’t believe I let you wear it in public,” he added disdainfully.

“Yes, Sir,” Hannah replied.  The date was over and the shackles of normalcy were being replaced by the freedom of a new kind of shackles.

She stood before him, wearing only pale pink pasties one could almost mistake for her actual nipples and a pair of crotchless, lacy black panties; daring neither to smile nor whimper.  Samuel deftly peeled the pasties off her, revealing her bare nipples, which were taut and sensitive.

“Bend over,” he said.  She put her hands on her hips and bent her body into a ninety degree angle, as if in a yoga position.  He examined the contours of her buttocks, running his hands across her pale, untanned skin.   He gently tickled her netherlips, which where beautifully framed by black lace.  Hannah was already moist.  “Impertinent,” Samuel whispered.  “Can’t you control yourself for just one moment?” 

Hannah blushed.  The truth was, she couldn’t control herself.  The feeling of giving herself up was just too powerful.

“Remove your panties.”

“Yes, Sir.”  She slid them down her silky legs and carefully folded them.  “Where should I put them, Sir?”

“In the hamper, of course!”

She scampered off to the bedroom.  He followed her.  A sapphire jewel gleamed from the end of a shiny metal plug, which was currently lodged in her bottom, as she walked down the hall.

He opened her jewelry box and fastened Hannah’s collar to her neck.  She loved the weight of it upon her nape and the pretty sparkle of the sapphire, but mostly, she loved the feeling of submitting; of giving herself up.  She dared to gaze at him.  Her face, with that cute little mole, framed by her short golden locks, shined with innocence. 

Samuel petted the downy fur of her Venus mound, and pulled at the erotic locks.  “No, no, no.  This simply won’t do,” he said quietly.  “You must make yourself bare for me.”

He pulled the restraints out from under the bed and tied her up with her legs in the air, in a position that one might find in a gynecologist’s office.  He slid a towel under her bottom and left the room.

Hannah wondered how long she would be left in this position.  From past experience, she knew it could either be a matter of moments or hours.  In any event, the only unbearable thing was the hot feeling of arousal that pulsed between her legs.  The thought of her sex being open and unresisting to the world maddened her with pleasure. 

Samuel returned holding shaving cream and a razor in one hand, and delicately balancing a bowl of water in the other.  He had sprinkled a pinch of roses into the water.  Samuel considered turning perverse actions into classy ones a subtle art.

He splashed water onto her already slick, moist pussy.  He lathered his hands with shaving cream and massaged it into her until her crotch was heavy with white foam.  Hannah’s breath quickened as Samuel began to shave her Venus mound bare.  He displayed nothing but the utmost tenderness as he slowly ran the razor across her sensitive area.  He took an exquisitely long time rinsing the razor in the rose-laden water, leaving Hannah aching with anticipation for his next touch.

She let out a high moan as he began to shave her engorged lips.  “Be grateful I didn’t decide to wax you,” he laughed as he pulled and pinched her sensitive skin, making sure to get every last hair.

With her pussy shaved bare, Samuel untied her and flipped her over.  He retied her in a position such that her face was planted into the bed sheets and her bottom was pointed up in the air. 

He removed the plug from her ass and splashed water between the cleft of her buttocks.  Hannah’s face turned a deep shade of red at the thought of a man shaving that area.  To Samuel, it was all part of the game.  He skin quivered as he carefully ran the razor across her asshole.

He again the room, leaving her bare sex exposed.  Hannah suddenly had a distressing thought:  had Samuel closed the blinds or were the neighbors currently witnessing this spectacle?  The restraints made it impossible to check, and she daren’t rise from her position in any case.  She simply had to trust Samuel’s judgment.

He returned with a fresh bowl of water, which he used to completely rinse her off.  Wet rose petals of deep crimson stuck fast to her pale bottom.  Spellbound by this eroticism, she whispered, “Please, Sir, I need you inside me.”

“Impudence,” he cried, smacking her on the buttocks.  He dug around in the closet and found his paddle, which he used upon her conveniently positioned ass.  The paddling was slow and light at first, but quickly picked up in speed and intensity.  Her bottom turned a bright pink as she yelped from the sting.  He spread her ass and placed the sapphire jeweled butt plug back in her.  “There.  I can be inside you whenever you wish.”

But the bulbous metal plug was a poor substitute for her Sir’s cock.  She tried to control herself, but the stinging on her bottom seemed to pulsate throughout her entire body.  She felt as though one touch would make her explode with pleasure.  “Please, Sir…” she whispered.

“Well…” He ran his pointer finger across her freshly sheared pussy.  “You have made yourself bare for me.  It would be a shame not to use it.”  He untied her and told her to get on her knees.

Hannah marveled at the glory of Samuel’s genitals.  He groomed himself immaculately.  He had shaved his testes and trimmed the rest of his pubic hair short, which made fellatio a far more pleasant affair than it would otherwise have been.  His balls dangled from his body like a pair of delectable fruits. 

She took his semi-erect penis into her mouth and pleasured him until he became completely firm.  Then he laid her upon the bed and playfully petted her joyous pussy, before granting her dearest wish:  fucking her to an ecstatic orgasm. 


The Maestro’s Symphony

The Maestro’s Symphony

            Claire stood in apt attention as Ludwig Rossetti walked into his parlor.  She watched his serious blue eyes as he examined her; inspecting her outfit, ensuring that it met his specifications.  “I’d like a drink,” he said slowly.  Her lacy little dress rustled as she rushed to the bar.  “The usual…” she hesitated for a moment, considering whether she interpreted the directions correctly.

            How wonderful it is to be a maid to the magnificent Maestro Rossetti!, she thought as she served him his jalapeño martini with a bow.  She heard his compositions weeks, sometimes months, before anyone else.  She beheld the engineering marvels of his instruments, listening to the new arcane forms of music he was concocting.  She was able to attend all of the great operas in Vienna, dressed in the most lavish gowns.  There were, of course, other, less ladylike perks.  The Mad Maestro, as he was called, was a man with less savory obsessions than music; and it just so happened that Claire was a woman who was all too eager to satisfy his urges.

            The Mad Maestro.  He was called that because his music was new, wild, and above all gorgeous.  He constructed new instruments using arcane engineering, most famously a steam organ which could sing sweetly one moment, and then scream ferociously the next.  And so it was with the Maestro, beneath his tender affection was a ferocity begging to be released.

            The Maestro was slowly sipping at his drink, “put your hands on the table and bend over.”  She did as she was told.  The electricity of being in this submissive position was buzzing about her.  Anything could happen.

            He positioned himself behind her and slowly lifted the hem of her lacy dress over her buttocks.  He ran his hands across the contours of her silken black panties, massaging the globes of her buttocks.  Claire felt herself becoming more and more wet.  Her undergarments would soon become sodden with desire if this treatment continued much longer. 

            He smacked her upon the ass, once on each cheek.  A slight sting prickled upon her bottom, despite the buffer of her panties.  He began to smack her in a rhythmic patter, stopping occasionally to massage her increasingly sore behind.  The room was silent except for the melody of Claire’s whimpering and the beat of the Maestro’s spanking.

            The Maestro smiled and pulled her panties down to her thighs.  Her red bottom seemed to gleam in the air as he worked the flesh with his delicate hands.  He gave her aching ass a tender kiss on the cheek.

            “P-please,” Claire whispered.  Her loins were aching.  She longed for him to be inside her; to make her come.  But she would get no such relief.  Instead, he resumed his spanking, now reveling in the sharp smack of his slaps against her rippling red ass.  His organ remained safely ensconced within the tight fabric of his pants. 

            “Do not move,” the Maestro said firmly.  The cool air tingled upon her red bottom.  Inside, Claire was burning with a myriad of emotions.  As she stood bent over a table, with her abused buttocks exposed to the world, she felt both joy and humiliation.  She wasn’t bound, she didn’t need to stay bent over.  Claire was no helpless maid from a wretched background.  She had studied her art for years, becoming a master at tending glamorous estates.  Her family had been tending to the nobility of Austria since the beginning of time.  She was a housekeeper with pedigree; she didn’t need to stay with this lecherous man.  She could go to any of the great households of Europe, and get paid more to boot.  She stayed because she wanted this.  She wanted to be spanked.

           The Maestro returned holding a small, flared device.  “This,” he said, thrusting the device in front of her face, “is my new invention.  It uses your body’s arcane energy to vibrate at just the right speed.”  She marveled at his ability to understand the arcane.  It is a skill possessed by so few.

            He turned on the vibrator and slowly ran it down her back.  It was soft as skin, but cold.  Her body gave an involuntary shudder as it reached her tailbone.  He pressed it upon her clit and teased her lips.  The vibration forced moans of pleasure out of her.  She wanted it inside her, to finish the job.  As though he had sensed the inevitable, the Maestro removed his toy from her lips.  He spat upon it and rubbed it with lubricant.  He spread the cheeks of her ass and placed it inside her bottom. 

            “Now,” he said, trying to remain dignified, though he was clearly hot and bothered, “you may return to you cleaning.”  He sat upon an armchair and began to thumb through the latest issue of Arcane Musik

            Arcane Musik, how absurd.  The Maestro is one of only a few dozen people in the whole world who can perform arcane music.  It’s a pompous magazine for a pompous ass, Claire thought, but the Maestro isn’t an ass.  She watched as his slim hands gracefully turned a page, he’s lovely.

            Claire began to dust the room.  With each step she felt the vibrator inside her, sending shocks of pleasure though her flesh.  It was like the Maestro himself was inside her.  It was humiliating being forced to work with this thing in such an unnatural burrow, but she was not bound; she could remove it at any time.  But she wanted it.  The shame of it stirred her.

            The Maestro had now given up all pretense of reading his magazine.  He was now focused on watching Claire’s obvious discomfort as she attempted to clean, his excitement swelling by the moment.  She moaned a little as she squatted to dust the legs of a coffee table.  “Stop,” he said, “bend over the table.”

            He once again lifted her skirt up, exposing her buttocks.  He resumed kneading her flesh.  The vibration in her ass intensified the effect.  He removed the device and applied a mixture of spit and lubricant.  He rubbed it upon the vibrator and massaged it into her asshole, gently tickling with his fingers.  He placed the device on her asshole, teasing her before plunging it into her repeatedly.  The force of the penetration combined with the vibrations to create a powerful sensation, before he finally left it firmly in her bum. 

            He conjured up a black lacquered paddle.  A deep red heart symbol was inlaid on the tip.  He rubbed it on her bottom and lightly tapped her buttocks, watching the flesh jiggle.  Claire was squirming with anticipation.  He smacked the paddle upon her ass, sending a shot of pain through her with a force unlike anything a hand could produce. 

            “P-please,” Claire whispered once again.  This time the Maestro could not contain himself.  He unfastened his pants and pulled out a swollen, slender, organ which he plunged into her netherlips, making her cry out with coital bliss.

            A curious music filled the air:  the melody of Claire’s voice, the drone of the vibrator, the beat of skin slapping skin.  It was the most beautiful symphony the Mad Maestro ever composed.