Erotica made to order

Great idea (writing to order) I'll have to try it from a female perspective if I can find a taker.
 
just wanted to say

I have really loved your stories; they remind me what attracted me here in the first place, before i even knew about the discussion boards; steamy, delicious, well-written erotica.....look forward to reading more...
 
I have really loved your stories; they remind me what attracted me here in the first place, before i even knew about the discussion boards; steamy, delicious, well-written erotica.....look forward to reading more...

Thank you very much. I've been toying around with a couple of stories, but either they're too weird for most folks to enjoy or they're too much like stuff I've already done.
 
Thank you very much. I've been toying around with a couple of stories, but either they're too weird for most folks to enjoy or they're too much like stuff I've already done.

Well, you should leave that up to us to decide. Don't disappoint your fan base :)
 
If I....will you.... me in return, Mr Ripley?

Mr Ripley, thought I would make a request for a little creative juicing from you, if you don't mind? Perhaps a little story which involves, rope...silk ropes, perhaps something a little "spanky" and a very wicked girl who most definitely needs to be pulled back into line.....forcefully....

If you scratch my itch, I promise to scratch yours....do we have a deal?

Just let me seal that with a slow lingering kiss...

:kiss:MsMoon:kiss:
 
Mr Ripley, thought I would make a request for a little creative juicing from you, if you don't mind? Perhaps a little story which involves, rope...silk ropes, perhaps something a little "spanky" and a very wicked girl who most definitely needs to be pulled back into line.....forcefully....

If you scratch my itch, I promise to scratch yours....do we have a deal?

Just let me seal that with a slow lingering kiss...

:kiss:MsMoon:kiss:



How about this?





“Hurry along now,” urged Malcolm, tugging on her gloved hand as they raced along, Anne’s heels clicking down the brick-lined London street.

Before she could protest that she hadn’t dressed for this sort of adventure, he stopped suddenly. Anne cleared a lock of raven hair from her face and looked up at the building. “Heathwinton Club,” read the great slab above the wooden door, chiseled skillfully untold decades or centuries before.

She paused to recover her breath as Malcolm fished through his pockets for something. An Australian thousands of miles from home, Anne did her best to take it all in. The night was a bit cool for late summer but characteristically damp and dark. The scene was postcard perfect. Fog hung over the street lamps as if commissioned by the city’s tourism board.

“In next few sentences of explanation, I will employ the word “normally” quite a lot,” said Malcolm as he produced a large ornamental key and slid it into the lock. “For instance, normally you would not be allowed, of course, being a woman.”

“All woman, thank you.”

“Yes, of course. Normally you would have no chance whatever in gaining access to this long-forbidden world of brandy and cigars. I’m perfectly willing to sneak you in in a laundry cart or in a cake or whatever it is you’d expect from seeing too many comedies, but that’s unnecessary. Not tonight.”

The door creaked open as Malcolm flung off his top coat and hung it on the coat tree. Anne began to do the same but soon found that he had already removed it. She felt a slight chill run through her black wrap dress.

This was the sort of men’s club she had always disdained for its old world sexism, yet something in her had always found it fascinating. Malcolm, his hair carrying just a hint of pepper at the temples, seemed not quite the club type. All the same, she decided to jump at the chance to see it herself.

“Nobody’s here,” she said numbly.

“Yes. You see, tonight is the annual hunt.”

“Foxes? That sounds awful, inhumane.”

“It’s not that sort of hunt,” he laughed, flicking on a bank of light switches with his umbrella before putting it away. “A scavenger hunt, actually. Old bankers and their junior associates rushing around town in search of obscure trinkets and such. It’s all rather tiresome, frankly.”

The club’s foyer was sumptuous: portraits of whiskered men on wood paneled walls, furniture festooned in leathers of brown and maroon. The scene filled her with an undeniable urge to touch it all, to run her manicured hands slowly over every surface of the place. She imagined herself having sex in every darkened corner of the room. She felt a tinge of moisture gathering in her delicate black lace panties.

“You like it?” he asked, already reading the answer in her expression.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I think so, yes.”

He turned around with two glasses of brandy in his hands. The rich russet amber liquid jostled playfully. Handing one to Anne, he gestured toward the oak-railed stairway near the back of the room. Malcolm hadn’t switched on the lights up there and since he was now behind her, she would be heading into the dark unknown.

“Up?” she asked timidly.

“Indeed,” he said smiling.

She took a sip for courage. Each step on the carpeted stairs in her heels was an exercise in blind faith. As they ascended, she could feel the gathering chill raise goosebumps on her exposed arms and legs. Just when she felt her foot slipping, she felt his warm hand on her hip guiding her up.

The floor leveled out into what must have been a hallway. The pair continued forward into utter blackness. Her hands instinctively extended in front of her to feel for obstacles.

“We’re here,” he said.

“Where’s here?”

“‘Here’ is wherever you happen to be at any given moment, silly.”

And with that, the lights came on. They were now in a small sitting room. Half a dozen leather high backed chairs around a brick fireplace. Suddenly Anne had a name for the arousing sensation she’d detected downstairs. The place smelled like power. She took another drink.

Malcolm lit the fire with a long match and sat back on the antique sofa. For a moment he paused and watched her standing there nursing the glass, her ample curves outlined beautifully in the warm light of the fire.

“It feels so wicked to be here like this,” she said, looking around. “I’m sure Heathwinton Club is very selective about membership.”

“You must be initiated, dear,” he said without a hint of jocularity. “You simply must.”

She backed away slightly. “I don’t think that’s-“

“It wouldn’t be fair to the other chaps who had to endure it.”

“Endure what?” Her eyes widened.

He smiled. “I need you to come here and bend over my knee,” he said.

Anne giggled. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I am not kidding,” he said sternly. “And I’d thank you for not making me remind you of that again.”

She rested her drink on a side table and slowly approached him, her hands clasped meekly. Malcolm grabbed her legs and pulled her up over his lap. Anne could feel her stockings sliding against the leather of the sofa. She could feel his hands gripping her firmly. She could feel his voice rumbling through her flesh.

“Good girl,” he said.

Afraid she might scratch the leather with her spiked heels, she began wiggling out of them but Malcolm stopped her.

“Absolutely not,” he grunted.

She felt her skirt lifting slowly, exposing her panties. He laughed a little seeing them, knowing full well that she had dressed hoping that the evening would lead to sex. His hands peeled them down over her ass and down her round, full thighs. She could smell her own arousal.

He reared back his hand and smacked her ass very hard. The sting of it shot through her body as his hand pulled back for another round. Smack! Her ass jiggled in the aftermath. She let out an involuntary yelp of pain that blended seamlessly with a sigh of pleasure.

Another smack fell harder than the last. Each spank alternated with a lingering caress to seal in the sting of it. Smack!

She hardly noticed that her hips had begun to writhe and roll like a prone belly dancer. Malcolm placed his brandy glass on her back, presumably to prevent her from moving too much. She began to protest, but the rush of sensations left her unable to speak. Malcolm’s finger entered her very slowly. She could still feel the sting of his hand on her ass as he sunk his digit inside her warm, wet pussy.

“Are you going to be a good girl now?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

The sound of it was pleasing to Malcolm. She could feel his stiffening cock pulsating against her body.

“Is your body mine to fuck, dear?”

Even in these intimate circumstances, she wasn’t sure how to respond to such a blunt question.

He smacked her ass again as a means of demanding an answer.

“Yes,” she whimpered.

“Up with you, then,” he said.

She slowly lifted herself off of his lap, letting her painted nails gently brush the shaft of his penis. It felt thick, powerful. Malcolm guided her to a love seat in the far corner and sat her down. He rooted around for a moment in an old doctor’s bag and pulled out several lengths of bright red rope.

“Now, stay still,” he admonished.

He spread her legs as wide as she could go to make her feet flush with the edges of the love seat. The position forced her to move forward with her rump resting on the edge of the seat. The rope that now fastened her ankles to the legs of the furniture was feather light against her skin, softer than nylon.

“It’s silk, my dear,” he said. “It’s like being tied up by thousands of tiny happy silk worms.”

He pushed her her skirt pushed up around her waist and pulled the straps of her dress over her shoulders to expose her breasts.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked.

“Oh, I am by no means done with you.” Gathering her hands together, he bound them in front of her in permanent prayer. “Now, that’s a good girl.”

There she lay, exposed and utterly helpless. Her dark red lip gloss shone in the flickering firelight as Malcolm unzipped his tailored trousers and produced his manhood. A hand gripping his rod tightly, he approached her slowly. The mushroom cap carried a pleasant surprise. All her wiggling on his lap had elicited a dab of precum on the tip. She ached to taste it.

She kissed it as he hovered his rod near her mouth. Her tongue outstretched, she licked it gleefully.

With a hand on her jaw, he bid her to open wide, and he slid himself between her candy-colored lips. She had to concentrate to relax her throat as his cock pushed deeper into her mouth. She could feel his strong fingers in her hair, pulling her down onto him, fucking her mouth. A nice red ring formed around the base of his cock. He smiled down at her warmly as she regained her breath.

With her bound hands, she cupped his balls like a whore- his whore. Her tongue sought the sensitive spot beneath the head of his cock, and she could feel him tensing up ready to blow.

“Please,” she pleaded. “Let me taste it.”

“Not tonight,” he said. “I must initiate you.”

He pulled out of her suddenly, saliva dripping from his rod. He gripped his cock and shot off a hot white load on her exposed chest.

“Your membership badge, my dear.” he said, panting. “Now you’re official. No, wait…” Malcolm grabbed a bowler hat from a nearby rack and placed it on her head. It sat cock-eyed on her tousled hair. “Now, that’s better.”

She could feel it all happening at once. The leather against her ass. The wet semen on her breasts. The smell of his manhood still spasming in front of her. She opened her mouth again eagerly.

“More please,” was all she could think to say.

She dove back onto his cock, drinking what was left of his essence. She could feel his muscles stiffening again. The sound of her own slurps and pops turned her on immensely, and they clearly had an effect on Malcolm who was by now moaning uncontrollably.

In a fit of passion, he pushed on the love seat to tip it back with her in it, thus positioning her helpless body. Her tits fell out of her dress entirely- and soon began to shake as he penetrated her pussy.

Her walls clamped around his shaft in erotic glee. Her man. Her cock.

He kissed her deeply, the residual jism passing between them. His fingers dug into her back as he pulled her close. His hips were gaining momentum. He was by now pounding her every bit as hard as if he was still spanking her. The sensation made her wince but she didn’t want him to stop. Not ever.

Her legs ached from being bound but she ached for more. Her immobile writhed and wiggled as much as it could. Every motion brought with it a new and overwhelming sensation.

She could feel the orgasm rising up in her. “Oh, god. Oh, god!”

“No no that will not do,” he intoned. “You must ask first.”

“Sir,” she said, looking up at him with devilish sweetness. “May I please cum?”

Malcolm smiled. “Not yet.”

He reached down to where their bodies joined and rubbed her clitorous with his thumb. Her whole body lurched as he eyes rolled back into her head.

“Now you may, dear, he laughed.”

The waves of orgasm washed over her, numbing her to the sounds from the floor below. He seemed oblivious to it as well, grunting like an animal. The pulse of Malcolm’s hot cum shooting deep inside her was deeply gratifying. She rode out the storm of it all with a blithe broad on her face.

By the time she opened her eyes, she sensed danger. The others had returned from the hunt with a whole roasted pig, item #27 on the list and were parading it around the building to celebrate. Malcolm untied her quickly and returned the room to its original state.

“Here,” he said quickly throwing his topcoat over her cum-stained dress. He tapped the hat on her head and lead her down the stairs. “Keep this on.”

In her men’s coat and bowler she passed through the joyous crowd with relative ease. Soon they were out on the street again, free and clear.

Under the gauzy street lamp he reached inside the coat and put an arm around her waist. He kissed her deeply.

“Jolly well done,” he said chuckling.

That the old men inside could see them kissing was clear, but he didn’t seem to mind that they must have been forming very specific assumptions about him. His hand slipped down and under her skirt, a finger slipping casually around the hem of her lacy panties and into her still quaking pussy.

“Are you my good girl?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Keep the hat,” he said. “You look far better in it than I do.”
 
Oh. My. God. Amazingly well written, incredibly erotic tale. I wish I was Anne! You have made me incredibly aroused, and my Love, sitting next to to me on our sofa, knows it, as I read the story out loud to him.
 
Blistering heat induced

MMMMr Ripley,

Thank you for the wonderfully erotic story. I am sat here with thighs parted, a constant squirm down against the cushions beneath me. Lace cheekies tugged to one side, an errant finger dipping repetitively between splayed dark coffee labia. Crimson slicked mouth rounding then bottom lip drawn within and chewed as I peruse your story with wanton intent. Small sighs lilting over full glossed lips as I animate each word, let the impact filter through my tensing body. You know what comes next, where this response is taking me as I mentally strain against the silk, in my mind feeling the coiled strands of silk embed their pattern within my flesh. Unable to deny the need to thrust one then two fingers downwards, inwards.....the wild need compelling each rocking motion to become wilder, to ride my own fingers to the bubbling climax within.

I so owe you a scratch, shall respond shortly to see if I can incite a little itch and wicked need for release within you.

Presses in firmly against you, warm breathy whispers of thanks peppering your cheek alongside small soft kisses to your cheek. A slow slide of lipsticked mouth smearing it's crimson down to your jawline then upwards to hungrily claim your mouth with mine. Body molding breasts to chest, the soft rustle of silk and grazing of lace as I move against you. A catch of lace topped silken cuban heeled stocking as my left leg rides up over your thigh to hook around your hip. The heated greeting of needful damp flesh hinting at what is to come.

Just a little taste for now.....more soon......very soon.....

:kiss:MsMoon:kiss:
 
MMMMr Ripley,

Thank you for the wonderfully erotic story. I am sat here with thighs parted, a constant squirm down against the cushions beneath me. Lace cheekies tugged to one side, an errant finger dipping repetitively between splayed dark coffee labia. Crimson slicked mouth rounding then bottom lip drawn within and chewed as I peruse your story with wanton intent. Small sighs lilting over full glossed lips as I animate each word, let the impact filter through my tensing body. You know what comes next, where this response is taking me as I mentally strain against the silk, in my mind feeling the coiled strands of silk embed their pattern within my flesh. Unable to deny the need to thrust one then two fingers downwards, inwards.....the wild need compelling each rocking motion to become wilder, to ride my own fingers to the bubbling climax within.

I so owe you a scratch, shall respond shortly to see if I can incite a little itch and wicked need for release within you.

Presses in firmly against you, warm breathy whispers of thanks peppering your cheek alongside small soft kisses to your cheek. A slow slide of lipsticked mouth smearing it's crimson down to your jawline then upwards to hungrily claim your mouth with mine. Body molding breasts to chest, the soft rustle of silk and grazing of lace as I move against you. A catch of lace topped silken cuban heeled stocking as my left leg rides up over your thigh to hook around your hip. The heated greeting of needful damp flesh hinting at what is to come.

Just a little taste for now.....more soon......very soon.....

:kiss:MsMoon:kiss:

You have absolutely made my day.
 
It's been a VERY long time since I did a commissioned dirty story for someone, but I'm interested in reviving the "erotica made to order" idea. PM me the basics of your fantasy, and I'll get in touch to work on nailing down some of the basic idea. Then I'll write up a very dirty story for you which I can post in this thread or on Lit if you agree. If it's too personal, that's fine. We'll keep it private. I enjoy exploring fantasies with people and writing smutty stories suited to their precise tastes.
 
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