Bray Array: The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 19

Dean disengaged her roughly, turning her in the water to him, impaling her with his stiff cock, his hips bucking up against her, the hot, steamy water gouting up between them, splashing it and their mutual cum against their chests and faces.

***

The next morning a tousle-haired Shanna came sleepily down to the kitchen. Dean was at the counter in a pair of pajama bottoms, looking sexier than Shanna ever remembered. She smiled at him, thinking about their wonderful night in the suite of the most expensive hotel in town. They’d left early in the morning, walking hand in hand down the street to a bakery that was just opening, like new lovers, sharing a roll before going home to their own bed for some rest.

Dean walked over and kissed her passionately on the mouth, delivering a cup of coffee, made just the way she liked it. She smiled, lifting the cup to her lips. “Mmmmmm,” she said. “This is wonderful.” She looked up into his green eyes. “But not as wonderful as you were last night.”

He smiled and reached behind him on the counter, presenting her with the other envelope. “Well,” he said. “I can’t wait to see what you make of this, babe.” He kissed her again, then sauntered out for a shower. Shanna watched him walking away, her eyes lingering on his tight ass beneath the soft, cotton pajama bottoms. A shiver went through her as she thought about his hands on her the previous evening, the way he moved in her, the feeling of the hot water pulsing against her open pussy.

She shivered, wetness growing between her legs. She thought about rushing into the bathroom, joining him in the shower, but looking at the clock knew he had to be getting ready for work — and they were both already a little weary from their late night frolic.

Shanna gently tore the envelope open. Inside on the little card she had provided, Dean had written MOTIONLESS, WICKED, INNOCENT . “Well,” she said to herself, looking at the words. “I certainly have my work cut out for me.”

***

It was Friday night, and Dean was running a little late after work. Shanna paced nervously, her stiletto heels click-clacking on the tile floor. She went to the mirror in the foyer, giving herself one last cursory glance.

She cupped her naked breasts, held high by the black, leather bustier, smoothed her hands down her tiny waist and curvy hips. Her long nails were painted blood red, and she had on long, black and silver false eyelashes and hot red lipstick.

Her dark hair fell to the middle of her back and was tousled. She was wearing a sweeping black skirt, slit up the front, giving a view of her furry muff. Her legs were encased in black, net stockings with garters. Atop her head was a sassy, little witch’s hat. She looked wicked, indeed.

Suddenly, she heard Dean’s key in the lock. She took her stance in the hall, facing the door, and as he walked in, he beheld her standing there, legs spread and hands on her hips, glaring at him. In her hand she held a silver and white swirled, blown glass wand about eight inches long. She held it out, pointing it at him. “How dare you make me wait!” she hissed.

Dean’s eyes were wide with surprise, taking in Shanna’s costume and demeanor. He slowly set his briefcase on the floor and closed the door behind him, not taking his gaze from her. His eyes traveled over her body, her breasts, her exposed pussy, her long legs. He licked his lips.

“Lock the door,” Shanna said, her voice low and deadly. Dean turned obediently and locked the door. Shanna stepped slowly to the side table in the foyer, her hips undulating as she walked in the stiletto heels. At the side table, she poured deep, red wine into a glass. She walked over to Dean, staring into his eyes. She stood close to him.

“You are bold, coming into my dwelling,” she said, a smile on her lips. “Let me give you a glass of wine for your trouble.”

Dean loosened his tie. “I would not drink your poison, witch!” he said, playing along.

Shanna reached down and ran her long nails up his thigh, raking them teasingly over his growing erection. “Oh, I think you will,” she said. “I think you will do everything I wish!”

“Do not molest me, witch!” he said, drawing himself up. “For I am a holy man, and chaste!”

“Mmmmmm,” Shanna purred. “An innocent.” She leaned forward and nibbled his neck. She placed the glass in his hand. “Drink, innocent!” She stepped back and pointed the wand at him. “Drink!”

Dean’s eyes became glassy. He raised the glass to his lips. “Yes, Mistress,” he said. His lips were red with the wine. Shanna licked the wine from his mouth and kissed him deeply. “Remove your clothing!” she ordered.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Shanna turned and walked away from him. She sat in a chair at the end of the foyer hall. She slowly opened her legs, exposing her pink flower. Dean had removed his tie and shirt and dropped them at the door. He was staring down the hall, taking in Shanna’s long legs, her open pussy.

He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his slacks, then slid them slowly down, his already stiff cock popping up out of them and pointing at the ceiling. He bent and removed his stockings and shoes, standing stark naked before her.

Shanna nodded appreciatively. “I seen you’ve brought a wand of your own,” she said. “Let us see how powerful it is.” She crooked her finger. “Come to me, innocent!” she said. “You are powerless! Unable to move unless I allow it!”

“Yes… Mistress,” Dean sighed as Shanna wrapped her red, red lips around the head of his cock, sucking the glans into her mouth, running her tongue around the ridge of the head. Dean’s legs quivered.

Shanna pushed her mouth over his cock, taking as much as she could, the head at the back of her throat, she made swallowing motions, engulfing the head, making Dean moan with pleasure. Suddenly, she stopped, standing before him. “Walk,” she said, pushing him toward the dining room.

Shanna had removed all the chairs from around the table earlier that day. There was a long silk scarf tied to the top of each table leg. “Lie down!” she commanded.

A slight smile played around Dean’s lips as he sat on the table, then he controlled himself and concentrated on looking frightened, controlled. Shanna held the glass wand out. “You are powerless!” she told him. “I’ve cast my spell upon you!”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, lying on the table, his considerable erection poking up like a baton.

Shanna slid the wand between her breasts and began walking around the table and tying Dean’s arms and legs to the table legs. She leaned over, her hot breath in his ear. “And now I shall do wicked things to you, my dear!”

“Please spare me!” Dean begged. “For I am a holy man who has never given myself to the pleasures of the flesh!”

“Silence!” Shanna demanded. “There is no mercy for one who walks so boldly into my dwelling!” She flicked her tongue in his ear, and stood at his head. She began running her hands over his chest, her pussy so close to his head that he could smell her musk. Beneath her hands, his nipples tensed. Shanna chuckled and teased them with her long nails. Dean shivered, his cock quivering. “Do you like that, my innocent?” she whispered.

“No! Please — stop,” Dean said with considerable effort.

Shanna then grasped both nipples, pinching and rolling them between her fingers the way Dean did to her. Just doing it to him made her nipples hard. She leaned over him, rubbing the tough, little nubs over his face, where his five o’clock shadow brushed them roughly.

“Suck!” she demanded, and Dean opened his mouth and took one nipple between his lips, rolling it on his tongue, teasing it with his teeth. Shanna sighed, reaching up to roll her other nipple between her fingers, pressing her muff on Dean’s shaggy head of hair, rubbing against him. She could feel her honey begin to flow, making her moist and slippery.