Welcome to Day 1 of the Superotica Valentine Countdown – 14 days of the hottest excerpts, sizzling pictures and some amazing guest appearances! I’m kicking off with an excerpt from my story, Sylvia’s Transgression, from Alison Tyler’s latest anthology, Twisted.
I’d barely caught my breath when I heard his footfall on the stairs. I closed my eyes, willing myself to calm down. He couldn’t know that I’d only just made it up here ahead of him. He liked me quiet and ready for him, waiting patiently in position with plenty of time to spare, not flustered and flushed. That would come later. I clamped my mouth tight shut and breathed slowly in and out through my nose as I counted his steps along the landing.
The door handle clicked and then I sensed he was in the room, but I didn’t dare look. No minor misdemeanors until I’d worked out what sort of day he’d had, what sort of mood he was in. God, I hoped it had been a good day so we could have some fun this evening. I hated it when he came in cross because of problems at work and took out his anger and frustration on me. The balance between pain and pleasure is a fine line and when he’s angry he takes me right to my very limits.
But today wasn’t going to be like that. Please…
I waited, listening to him taking off his jacket and pulling off his tie. He hadn’t said anything but he often liked to keep me guessing. I pushed the front of my hips against the edge of the mattress to make my ass even rounder. I knew he found it irresistible. I could smell the day’s sweat on him, mingling faintly with this morning’s cologne. A hot shimmer of desire tightened deep within me.
I felt him sit on the edge of the bed and then his hand slipped inside my panties to caress my ass. His skin was warm against mine and his touch so soft… I pushed up against him but immediately regretted my action as his hand drew away. I knew I had to be completely limp; any sign of a response to him would result in punishment later and I still hadn’t worked out what sort of mood he was in.
Suddenly he grabbed my right wrist and yanked my arm back hard. I gasped as a muscle tore in my shoulder but that wasn’t the worst of it. He sniffed my hand, my fingers; then he licked them. The air went out of my lungs as fear extended an icy grip around my chest.
‘These fingers have been where they shouldn’t have been, haven’t they?’
I didn’t dare answer, pressing my face into the duvet.
His hand was in my hair, pulling my head up. I winced.
He let my head go and smelt my fingers again.
‘It’s not even you, is it? It’s Merta I can smell on you, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’ It was practically a sob.
If only I’d done it earlier in the day, so I had time to wash myself and get rid of the smell. What had possessed me to mess around with Merta just minutes before he was due home from work?
His weight lifted from the bed.
‘I had a long day, Sylvia, and I’m tired.’ His voice sounded angry. It had that clipped, bitter tone that I’d learned to fear. ‘And now this, you thoughtless bitch. Move up the bed and take off your underwear.’
I wriggled from where I was lying bent over the bottom of the bed up to the center, shimmying out of my panties and discarding my bra as I did. I knew what he was going to do. The cuffs jingled as he lifted them from each corner of the bed head and I held out my arms compliantly. I didn’t want this; I didn’t want to be hurt when he was angry with me. A moment later my ankles had been fitted with a spreader bar extended to its widest setting. I gasped a little as he strapped it on and instantly felt the weight of his hand across the back of my thigh. A sharp sting followed by a long, slow burn reminded me to keep my mouth shut.
I heard him leaving the room and wondered where he’d gone. I didn’t have to wait long; two minutes later he came back in and there was a second set of steps with him.
‘Come in, Merta,’ he said, as they both entered the room.
Merta was our maid. She was slim and pretty, and spoke little English, and sometimes I could resist touching her, especially if he’d left me feeling horny when he went out to work. She didn’t seem to mind and never shied away from my exploring fingers.
I could sense them standing at the end of the bed.
‘Show me, Merta, what she did to you. How she touched you.’
A second later I felt a soft, feminine hand running up my thigh. I tried to stop my hips from moving in response to the dull ache that started up in my pussy. Her fingers stroked and caressed my butt cheeks as I’d done to hers and then silently slid down between them to push gently between my swollen labia. My breath was ragged and I clamped my jaws tightly together, even though I wanted to lift my head and groan out loud. The sensation of her cool fingers delving into my hot cunt was exquisite and I knew that she would only have to slide them in and out a couple of times to bring me to the brink. But that would never be allowed.