Author: Lascivity

Sweat [MF]

She sweats profusely. I notice this first when we go running together. Her sweat slicks down the hairs on her arms. It forms patches which spread until her top is saturated with wetness, uniformly drenched.

Later, we fuck. She sweats just the same. It is most noticeable in certain places. Her armpits are hot and slick. Beads of sweat on her face. My hand slides on the small of her back.

The smell turns me on. Watching her pant and pinken turns me on.

I make her go on top, riding me. Our bodies are frictionless, sliding over one another. Normally skin catches on skin, pulls a little as bodies rub together, like velvet. Not with her. She’s lubricated with perspiration. I can barely grip her. She fucks energetically and she drips on me. *Her* sweat dries on *my* skin.

Afterwards, when I lick her ribs, she tastes like the ocean.

*

*As with all my filth, this is cross-posted* [*on my blog*](https://www.lascivity.co.uk/)*. Cheers!*

Merchandise [MF][BDSM]

You keep your gaze lowered until you’re spoken to directly. It’s a rule you really struggled with at the start of your training, but which comes as second nature now… along with everything else: stand up straight, hands behind your back, eyes down, shoulders loose. You don’t move a muscle as the two men pace around you.

“She’s pretty,” says one. You don’t recognise the voice. This must be the customer. “How old?”

“22.”

“How long has she been in training for?”

“Two years. She was a little… difficult at first. But no longer. She’s one of our finest. Very smart. Very eager to please.”

“Hmm.”

You hold your breath. It’s cool in the room where they hold the viewings. Air conditioned air, since the space is windowless and private. Naked as you are, it’s difficult not to shiver. Especially as you can feel eyes roaming your body, taking in every hair, every curve of skin.

It took hours to prepare for this. You’ve been waxed, shaved, made smooth, bathed. You’re hair is pinned back. Light makeup. That’s all the girls are permitted to wear for a viewing; the purpose is to display you as you are, not to mislead. Read more »

A Walk in the Park [MF] [BDSM] [Nonsexual]

She’s on her period. She doesn’t like to fuck when she’s on her period. We go for a walk instead. It’s a warm day and the sun is just beginning to sink below the crags in the distance. The sky is a weird, ethereal, brilliant blue.

Because she’s on her period, and because I know she is more sensitive when she’s on her period, I want to hurt her. I look for ways to hurt her. There’s holly growing beside the path and I break off a stick of it: a green bundle of curved, glossy leaves, each crowned with a dozen spikes. She eyes it. Wary.

We have a long history of me hurting her, of her being hurt by me.

“Where’s that going?” she asks.

It goes down the back of her top, to rest in a spiky ball in the small of her back. She winces and clutches her fingers as I thrust it into place, and thereafter she walks very upright, stiff and awkward. Expressions cross her face like glitches. She inhales sharply at odd moments.

“It’s worse when I have to bend,” she says through gritted teeth. Read more »

Playing With Fire [MF]

We started fucking not long after I joined the club. Circus Society met every week in the biggest room on campus – a converted gymnasium used mostly for exams and graduation ceremonies. On Monday nights Jay and Elisa would haul down two huge plastic tubs of circus toys from the storage room on the floor above and spread it out around the room, ready for club members to play.

There was a tightwire on a frame. A bunch of juggling equipment. Diablo. Clubs. Hoops and staffs. Even a unicycle. I was terrible at all of it, but that was what made it fun – forcing myself to learn something that didn’t come naturally to me, and that called on all the balance and timing and co-ordination that, as an English Lit student, I never otherwise used.

Jay was a long-haired hippy, vague and soft-spoken. People joked that he looked like Jesus. On first meeting he seemed entirely harmless. He never said a harsh word to me, but was surrounded always by a cloud of rumours. He could be mean, people said. Bad, people said. You didn’t want to be around him, people said, when things didn’t go his way. Read more »

Your Fuckbuddy After Quarantine [MF]

You will pick up where you left off on a sunny day in summer, 48 hours after one-on-one contact becomes legal once more. He’ll have changed. Gained a little weight, become pale, grown out his hair. He’ll have a slightly wide-eyed look. When he speaks he’ll struggle for words more often than he ever did before.

You’ll go to your bedroom. There’s traffic on the road outside. You can hear it. There’s voices. At first you’ll fuss around each other, avoiding the moment of touch. You’ll make him a cup of tea. He’ll remove his tie. Sit awkwardly on the edge of your bed.

When it does happen everything will feel like it did the first time. Unknown territory. He reacts to your touch, draws up into it, presses close to you. Before, when you saw each other once a week, you rarely kissed. This time you will kiss extensively, extravagantly, silently except for your breathing.

You will be able to smell him. A pleasant scent like whisky. You remember that scent from before, where you would catch it sometimes in the crook of his neck or an armpit or his chest. But it was never so strong. The only person you will have smelled for a hundred days, at this stage, is you. Read more »

Prep [MF][BDSM]

She checks the instructions on her phone. She’s clean. Dripping wet from the shower, her hair turbaned on top of her head, warm and heavy. He hasn’t put his requirements in any kind of sensible order. She rearranges them in her head: she’s already waxed and smooth. She dealt with the enema before getting in the shower. That leaves hair, makeup, clothing, and the toy.

Hair first, she decides. She dries herself roughly, then hangs up the towel. Enjoys being naked as she pads about her room, kneels in front of the mirror. Dries, brushes, dries some more. Pulls it back, examines herself, lets it loose, pulls it back again. Eventually she ties it back and tidies up the loose strands.

What’s the time? Three-quarters of an hour until he arrives. She should have started earlier.

She’s enjoying being naked. Doesn’t want clothes just yet. She gets onto the bed, props up the hand mirror and does her makeup. A soft, cold swipe of eyeliner along her lids. Blink. *Wear eyeliner, but minimal other makeup*. That’s what the instructions say. She wants some foundation, but she keeps it light and blends until she’s sure he won’t notice. Read more »

A Real Monster [MF]

When I worked as an actor in a haunted house I was a scarecrow: overalls smeared with fake blood, gloves, a sackcloth mask with its mouth sewn shut. In costume, even in good light, I was unrecognisable. Horrific. A gory, gaudy character from a slasher flick.

My job was to hide alongside a narrow, poorly-lit path in the woods, surrounded by other scarecrows. Straw ones. Unliving ones. I’d stand still. Wait for a group of punters (nervous, clustered) to appear and edge their way through the congregation of straw men. I’d be patient. Very still. I’d pick my moment. And then, at whatever point I thought might get the biggest scream, I’d lunge.

For a sadist it was satisfying work.

One night the woman I was fucking came to visit. She’d booked tickets with a big group of friends weeks before she ever met me – a strange coincidence. We talked about it the night before.

“Will I recognise you in there?” she’d asked.

“I don’t know. It’s dark. Confusing.”

“Will *you* recognise *me*?”

“Maybe. My eyes adjust to the dark after an hour or so. But there’s the mask. That makes it difficult.” Read more »

Sit, Stay, Good Dog [MF][Pet Play]

He takes her for a walk in the woods. They hold hands at first; a couple out for a stroll. It’s a bright day. Sun-dappled. Pleasant. Half a mile down the track, having seen not a single other person, he puts the collar on her. The metal one, which locks with a screw. She makes sure to keep pace just a half-step behind him. Bad puppies tug. Good puppies heel.

A way further on they leave the path. He has her hold the leash in her mouth while he takes her dress off her and helps her step out of her underwear. Sunlight on naked skin. He takes the leash back and leads her away through the undergrowth.

There are brambles. She whines when they catch her thighs, open scratches on her skin. She doesn’t speak. She knows what she’d get if she did: a swift tap on the nose, an admonishment. “Puppies don’t speak,” he would tell her. *Remind* her, actually, since she knows the rules already.

They pick and poke and scratch their way through the forest until they arrive at a small clearing. A tree lurches crooked in the centre. He marches her up to it, loops the end of the leash around a limb and clips it into place. Read more »

Talking Dirty [MF]

I tell them I’m masturbating. That I’m naked, sprawled on the bed. I tell them I have my fingers between my legs, stroking my *juicy pussy*. They like it when I say that, the men who call. The more obscene my words the better.

Sometimes I stick my fingers in my mouth. Suck loudly and sloppily. Pretend that I’m choking on their cock. *You’re so big*, I tell them. *God, you’re just gonna split me in half, aren’t you?* They lap it up. I hear their breathing get faster, heavier.

For some of them – the ones who like to think they’re good in bed – I pretend to come. Loud and high-pitched and keening. I run a hand through my hair and let my voice go high enough to break. *Fuck,* I whisper, *oh fuck I’m coming.*

But I’m not. I’m curled up on the sofa in my pyjamas, usually. I’m making toast in the kitchen with the phone jammed between my shoulder and my ear. Sometimes I’m even playing video games, the volume muted, the only soundtrack my hushed profanity, my melodramatic screams. Read more »

Make Me [MF] [BDSM]

What I think she thinks is going to happen when she says the words, “Make me,” is that I will bend her over the foot of her bed, press her face into her own bedcovers, and spank her at length.

I think she thinks this because I have spanked her every time we’ve played since we started playing, usually in response to her behaviour, which at times is specifically calibrated to make me want to spank her.

She’s behaving the way she behaves when she wants me to spank her when she says the words, “Make me”. Which is to say that she’s scratching at me, snarling at me, pulling faces at me as I hold her by a handful of her hair. She is refusing every instruction I give her, including the instruction to suck my dick that immediately precedes her saying the words, “Make me.”

She is also pointedly not ending every utterance she makes with the word “Sir,” which is something that we have pointedly agreed she will do whenever we play.

In the immediate aftermath of her saying the words, “Make me,” we stare at one another. I believe that, at this point, she thinks I am about to spank her. Read more »