Established_relationship on Knotty Biscotti

My Partner in Crime, My Midnight Companion

Fri, 17 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

The weekend had started out perfectly. Kelley had taken off work early and driven to the family cabin on Friday afternoon to set up. She’d been planning this, well, all year, really, and she wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.

The cabin was deep in Les Laurentides, several hours north of Montréal. The real name of the area was Val des Lumières but among the Hayes family, it was simply “up Val”. She’d stopped in Sainte-Agathe-des-Monts for last-minute supplies—charcuterie supplies, an artichoke dip and a boule that smelled like heaven, and wine, so very much wine.

“To my little sister!” Kelley announced, raising her glass. “My new literary agent!”

“Kel!” Kayleigh giggled, clinking glasses then taking a rather large drink of the grenache-heavy rosé. “It’s April, at least wait until I know if I graduated!”

Kelley giggled too, finishing her wine, collecting Kayleigh’s glass and heading back to the kitchen to refill both from the second cardboard box of the evening. “No way! I hate my agent, if I’m gonna get screwed by anyone—” she cut herself off and glanced nervously at Kayleigh.

Kelley’s little sister blushed, then beamed. “Get over here, Bossy Boots!”

Arching an eyebrow, Kelley returned to the living room with the two full glasses of wine. She sat down carefully and snuggled up to her sister before the wood stove. “I’m bossy?” she teased as she brought her lips close.

“You used to be,” Kayleigh replied softly, then kissed her sister full on the lips while one hand cupped Kelley’s behind. Before long the wine was forgotten, clothing was discarded and the sisters connected in their own, unique way.

The clock on the nightstand glowed 2:22 AM, casting a faint red hue over the bedroom Kelley and Kayleigh were sharing this weekend. Kelley dozed when they first came to bed, but the heat refused to die down. The moment Kayleigh lay down on the decadent mattress, she was asleep. But Kelley, she still needed her sister. She had planned one more treat but the wine, the long drive, and weeks of Kayleigh wrapping up assignments and finishing exams had gotten the better of little Kaybear.

Kayleigh snored softly on her side of the bed, her lithe body barely covered by a thin tank top and panties—she had kicked the duvet off within minutes. Kelley watched her, heart pounding, the strap-on she’d bought months ago—the final surprise, hidden in a drawer—wouldn’t leave her thoughts. The dildo was a monstrous thing, 8 inches long with a tapered tip, a bulbous, knotted centre, then a ribbed and veiny shaft back to the moulded testicular base. Jean-Claw, it was called, a hand-sculpted dildo mounted in a hand-tooled leather harness.

Get over here, Bossy Boots!

Kelley slipped out of bed. “Bossy.”

Kelley retrieved the silk ropes from under the mattress, the simple sight of them fuelling her arousal. The ropes were a regular part of their games but never like this. She worked quickly, securing both of Kayleigh’s ankles to the bed before the younger sister even stirred.

“What—” Kayleigh’s groggy question died as Kelley looped the rope around her wrists, tying them to the headboard with practised knots. Kayleigh squirmed, her small breasts heaving under the tank top, nipples poking up beneath the fabric.

“Shh-shh-shh, Kaybear,” Kelley murmured, her voice the familiar warning tone from childhood: Kayleigh would catch Crinklebone Fever if she didn’t leave Kelley and her friends alone during sleepovers. Kayleigh relaxed, just a little, until her big sister held up a whiffle-ball-gag. As she opened her mouth to speak, Kelley forced it between Kayleigh’s lips and fastened it behind her head. Kayleigh’s eyes widened, the bright red gag distorted her words to wet burbling.

Kelley’s hands explored, yanking Kayleigh’s tank top up to expose her modest tits, pinching the ruddy pink nipples. Kayleigh bucked her hips. Kelley watched her eyes and told herself what she saw there. She hooked her fingers into Kayleigh’s panties, tearing the silly lace things away, exposing the red whorls of dense pubic hair.

“You’ve always been mine,” Kelley growled, moving back and off the bed, giving Kayleigh a clear look at the strange, eldritch phallus her sister wore. Kelley knelt on the bed between her sister’s open thighs, grinning. “You always knew that, didn’t you, Kaybear?” She tightened the restraints on Kayleigh’s ankles, forcing her thighs apart until her wonderful sister squeaked in protest and her pussy lips parted, revealing glistening pink inner folds.

Kayleigh’s muffled cries filled the room as Kelley rubbed the Wendigo cock against her entrance, the knobbly tip teasing Kayleigh’s clit before pressing in. The head breached slowly at first, Kayleigh’s breath coming in sharp, shallow pulls as her body arched and the ropes creaked against her struggles. Kelley pushed deeper, and when the knot finally bore through Kayleigh’s entrance, the younger woman whimpered through her gag.

“Fuck, Kaybear, I can barely get inside,” Kelley panted, her hips drew back then snapped forward, beginning a rhythm. She pounded into her sister, the strap-on’s girth splitting Kayleigh open, juices squirting out with each thrust. Her gagged moans turned to sobs of pleasure as Kelley drove the knot in, revelling in the minute resistance each time she pulled it back out, like she might turn her sister inside-out.

Kelley’s hands mauled Kayleigh’s tits, twisting the nipples as she fucked harder, the bed slamming against the wall. “You’re so fucking pretty,” Kelley gasped. “I love your titties so much!” Sweat dripped onto Kayleigh’s heaving chest. She reached down, rubbing Kayleigh’s swollen clit in tight, rough circles. Kayleigh’s body convulsed, her bound limbs straining, and Kelley knew. She watched her sister come apart, girl-cum gushing, soaking the sheets.

Kelley didn’t stop. She flipped Kayleigh onto her stomach. The ropes didn’t allow enough slack, so Kelley’s little sister was cross-armed and cross-legged, face-down. As Kayleigh mewled in protest, Kelley re-entered her from behind. The new angle drove the strap-on deeper, as Kelley slapped her sister’s firm ass-cheeks red. “Take it all, Kaybear,” she hissed, grinding the base against her own clit for friction. Kayleigh’s face pressed into the pillow, drool soaking it, and Kelley recognised the signs. She drove harder.

Hours blurred into a haze of relentless fucking. By dawn, Kayleigh lay spent, body marked with rope burns and handprints, pussy and ass both raw with loving abuse. Kelley untied her gently, removing the gag to kiss her swollen lips. “I couldn’t wait anymore,” she whispered.

Kayleigh, voice hoarse, pulled her close. “I’d stopped hoping for this.”

Knotty

Easter Eggs

Fri, 10 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Rachel emerged from Frankie’s bedroom—their shared bedroom any night Rachel wasn’t up late working—and smiled, surveying the bright, sun-soaked living room of their apartment. The afternoon sun was wonderful! The open curtains allowed the room to grow very warm and Rachel was glad she was only wearing a t-shirt and her gym shorts. Too hot for much more, she thought as a blush joined her smile.

“Still waiting!” Frankie’s voice carried mock irritation with a hint of genuine excitement.

“Keep your eyes closed!”

“They’re closed! Jeez, Rach!”

Rachel padded into the kitchen, nearly silent on her bare feet, then took a seat opposite Frankie, her best friend of nearly eight years, girlfriend of nearly five months. “Okay, open.”

Frankie opened one eye, grinned, then opened the other. Resting on the table between the two women was her first prize: a large egg made of pink plastic. “An Easter egg hunt.” Frankie laughed and looked back up at Rachel.

“This is how you make it up to me,” she said evenly, letting a pinch of amusement come through.

“Okay! Easter egg hunt!” Frankie sounded like a kid at Disneyland. She opened the egg, revealing only a slip of paper inside. She faltered for a beat, then recovered and read the note in a singsong lilt. “You hid something in this spot thinking that you were so smart / Start right here, where you nearly made me act like a tart.” Frankie snorted, failing to stifle the laughter.

“I’m a research journalist, not a writer! Go!” Rachel’s command was less commanding than she’d have liked as she was laughing too.

Frankie darted across the hardwood floor to the desk and Rachel sat on the edge of the kitchen counter to watch. Seconds later, Frankie was holding up another plastic egg, this one a rich purple. She twisted it open, confusion clear on her expression. Rachel imagined she was surprised by the weight.

“What is…” Frankie trailed off as understanding dawned. She put the egg down and held up a purple lace bralette, crop-style with racerback straps, and a matching set of lace boyshorts. “OH! Fashion show!” Frankie declared, giving Rachel a wicked grin.

“Yep, fashion show,” Rachel agreed, making a ‘shoo’ motion with her hand.

Silence from the bedroom, then a squeal of surprise. “Rach!”

“C’mon, Frankie! Fashion show!” Now Rachel was almost imitating Frankie’s earlier tone.

Frankie emerged from the bedroom wearing nothing but the lingerie. The bralette did wonders for her modest breasts, but the boyshorts, oh they were doing exactly what Rachel had been hoping for. They hugged Frankie’s hips, snugged tight against her mound, and when Frankie turned they left her ass completely bare. The shorts had a heart-shaped cutout that framed Frankie’s behind perfectly.

Rachel squirmed on the kitchen counter. Not yet, she told herself. She hadn’t counted on how hot it would be watching Frankie being so casual about this.

“Another clue!” Frankie giggled, reading it in the same voice as the last. “Where you hog all the space and steal the remote / If you look down low, you’ll find your next note.” Frankie glanced up, wheeled around and gave her behind a firm swat. “To the couch!” She ran across the room, knelt on the cushions and stuffed both hands between them.

Rachel stared. She’s doing that on purpose! She’d planned to watch Frankie from behind while she searched, but she hadn’t planned on Frankie in this position. Back to Rachel, knees spread wide, Frankie’s ass-cheeks hanging out of the boyshorts were even more tempting than Rachel had imagined.

“Found it!” Frankie announced, holding up a brilliant yellow egg in triumph. She opened it with a flourish, then squeaked. Rachel was thrilled at Frankie’s startled expression. “Is this…” Frankie’s eyes widened as she held up a tiny strip of orange and black fabric.

“Fashion shooooow,” Rachel teased, motioning to the bedroom again.

Frankie returned a moment later and Rachel couldn’t contain the gasp. This outfit was another two-piece. Sort of. The top was a leopard-print bandeau-style micro-kini with studded leather trim. It was barely wide enough to cover Frankie’s areolae, and her nipples stood out prominently beneath the fuzzy fabric. Around her neck was a matching choker, about an inch and a half tall, edged with the same black leather and tiny silver studs.

The bottom was a nearly invisible g-string with a leopard-print triangle covering Frankie’s crotch and very little else. Frankie’s auburn curls peeked out around the g-string’s almost laughable coverage. The afternoon sun caught them just right, made them almost glow, and Rachel’s toes curled. She hoped Frankie hadn’t caught that. “Very cute! You like it?” she asked, knowing her voice didn’t sound as casual as she wanted.

Frankie shuffled, adjusting what little she could. “Rwar!” she responded and made a little ‘claw’ motion with her free hand, but she seemed just a touch less confident. “Next clue!” she chirped after a moment. “Where you found the cream cheese, why was it there?” Frankie shot Rachel a look and Rachel couldn’t help giggling. “Go have a look, no tricks, I swear!”

Maybe moving a bit more cautiously, Frankie watched Rachel for a moment, then entered the bathroom. Rachel had to hop off the counter to follow. When she reached the bathroom door, Frankie had already retrieved a powder-blue plastic egg from the shower caddy. She eyed Rachel sideways, twisting it open.

Rachel’s tongue-tip grazed her lower lip. “Fashion show,” she said softly. When Frankie had disappeared into the bedroom, Rachel allowed herself a trembling exhale. Almost there.

“Rach?” Frankie asked, sounding uncharacteristically shy as she emerged from the bedroom again.

“Oh,” was all Rachel could manage. It was better than she’d imagined.

Frankie was wearing a black leaf-pattern lace bodysuit that hid nothing. Her nipples strained against cups so sheer Rachel could count every one of the little bumps scattered across Frankie’s areolae. The bodysuit was held in place with a string of pearls acting as a halter neck; the sides and back were almost completely cut away. Most beautifully, the bodysuit ended just below Frankie’s hipbones. Another string of pearls looped between Frankie’s legs, connecting the front and the back of the outfit. A few of the pearls were completely lost in Frankie’s pubic hair and the strand nestled perfectly between Frankie’s outer lips.

“Rach?” Frankie asked again.

Rachel swallowed. “One more,” she responded, handing Frankie an orange plastic egg.

Frankie opened it carefully. Like the first, there was only a slip of paper inside. “I never imagined this would bloom / Now follow me into your room. Love, Rachel”

Rachel was guiding Frankie before she’d finished reading the note. She walked Frankie backward through the bedroom door and onto the bed, then lay between her legs. One hand stroked the inside of Frankie’s thigh while her other carefully explored the bottom of the bodysuit. She had to search for a moment before she found the clasp that released the string of pearls, but the way Frankie twisted and moaned, Rachel was sure she didn’t mind.

Pearls removed. Rachel’s hands urged Frankie’s thighs open just a little more. She breathed deep, drunk on Frankie’s scent already, then took her long-awaited lick at Frankie’s pussy. Frankie’s reaction was intense and immediate. She groaned, her thighs pressed against Rachel’s hands, and she arched her back. “Yummy,” Rachel purred and pressed closer. She loved the feeling of Frankie’s labia against her face. The warmth, the smell, the way Frankie tasted, it was all so perfect. She drove her tongue deep, wiggling and rolling and curling inside Frankie. She nodded, pressing her chin against the base of Frankie’s pussy, then drew her tongue back out and made a loud, smacking sound with her lips.

She moved to return to her place between Frankie’s thighs when she felt Frankie’s hands on her head. “Babe, wait.” Rachel paused, confused, until Frankie removed Rachel’s glasses. “Poking me,” Frankie gasped, then directed Rachel back down.

Now that everything in the world was a blur except for Frankie’s glistening folds, Rachel was even more eager. She licked and sucked at Frankie’s cunt. She ground her nose into Frankie’s clit. She pulled back a little and pressed her tongue-tip against Frankie’s anus. The moan and shudder this drew from Frankie gave Rachel a thrill she felt through her whole body.

Finally Rachel returned her whole attention to Frankie’s clit. She licked it roughly with her whole tongue, bit at Frankie’s dense pubic curls, then bit her clit just as two fingers slid deep inside. “Fuck, Frankie. Cum, please? Please, cum. Please, Frankie! Cum for me!” She pounded her fingers faster and deeper, watching Frankie’s face for that moment. When she saw it, she moved down again, caught Frankie’s clit between her teeth and flicked it rapidly with her tongue-tip.

“Rach-Rach-Rach-Raaaaach!” Frankie’s orgasm crushed them both.

The clock-radio in Frankie’s room displayed 6:19pm. Both of them had been in and out of sleep for the last few hours. When they were awake together, they made love again. Now it was just Rachel. Frankie was, as usual, cuddled against Rachel’s naked body, her head on Rachel’s shoulder, a puddle of drool forming between her cheek and Rachel’s breast.

“I love taking care of you,” Rachel whispered in the fading light of the day.

Knotty

Fooling Around

Fri, 03 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

“Frankie? D’you know anything about the Easter eggs I bought last week?” Rachel already knew the answer, before Frankie’s bedroom door opened, revealing fragments of colourful foil wrapper on her floor.

“Easter eggs?”

At least she sucks at lying, Rachel thought, rolling her eyes.

“WHAT DID I PUT IN MY MOUTH?” Frankie howled as she bolted to the washroom, focused entirely on the toilet.

“Did you mistake a foil wrapped grape for a foil wrapped chocolate egg?” Rachel had to cover her face with both hands to keep her wild giggles in check while she watched her girlfriend—her best friend since high school—dry-heave into their toilet.

“Why would you do that? Who wraps a GRAPE?” The look of betrayal was too much—Rachel worried she would pee herself if she started laughing now.

“Frankie? Where’re my black pumps?”

Frankie looked up from her spot on the couch. “Oh, yeah, I put ’em in the hall, they smelled!”

Rachel frowned, then shrieked when she opened the door. Her pumps were there, but the right was lying on its side, displaying a swath of lumpy, yellow-brown paste. She retched. “Fuck! I’m meeting my adviser in 20 minutes!”

Frankie appeared at her side, then knelt to study the fouled shoe. “What? It’ll wipe right off.” She ran her index finger along the sole of the shoe and popped the lumpy brown paste into her mouth.

“FRANKIE!”

“Chunky peanut butter,” Frankie replied, wicked mirth in her eyes.

Frankie emerged from the shower, only a little disappointed that Rachel had been too tight for time this morning to join her. They weren’t quite five months into their relationship and Frankie never tired of touching, of kissing, of worshipping her lover.

She towelled herself off then reached for the antiperspirant Rachel had bought her. She considered her figure in the mirror before rotating the base and deciding she would begin with her modest-but-full boobs. She lifted her left breast carefully and smeared not antiperspirant into the underslope.

Frankie shrieked, dropped the stick and stared at the thick white smear beneath her breast for a moment before she could identify the scent. “Cream cheese?”

Rach, babe, you’ll never top this, Frankie thought as she worked the bullet vibe into the cushion of Rachel’s desk chair. .50 Cal Bullet, the box proclaimed. External use only! it admonished. World’s most powerful bullet vibrator! Frankie liked that one best.

Rachel would probably know right away something was weird with her chair, but Frankie didn’t expect the prank to run long. It was Wednesday; every Wednesday since the start of the new semester Rach had spent the entire evening sitting at her desk, earbuds in, working on her term paper long into the night. Long after Frankie had given up and gone to sleep. Wednesdays were the only night of the week Frankie was sure she was sleeping alone. Rach never wanted to risk waking her up by sneaking into bed at 3am, or whenever the hell she finally stopped working.

Not this week, babe. Frankie brought up the app on her phone, set a two-minute delay after the vibe sensed contact, then plugged her phone in to charge. It was already at 2% battery.

“Shit, I’m late!” Rachel dropped her backpack by the front door, shrugged out of her jacket and left it on the floor in the entrance of their dingy apartment, and ran toward her desk.

Frankie gave her a bewildered look. “What? I made dinner.”

Rachel kissed Frankie on her way. “I’m sorry, babe, Bowen tonight! Video. All yours after!”

Frankie quailed. Dr. Bowen was Rachel’s faculty adviser. They’d missed connecting after her peanut-butter/animal-poop prank but they must’ve rescheduled for a virtual check-in. Tonight.

“Cool!” Frankie replied, trying to sound less than half as terrified as she felt. She waited for Rachel to sit on her chair, open her laptop and log in before bolting for the bedroom.

Her phone wouldn’t power on.

The charger wasn’t plugged in.

FUCK!

Frankie rushed back to the combined office/dining room/living room of their shared apartment. “Rach!” she hissed, only to be cut off by a sharp finger held in the air while Rachel put on her most casually friendly expression.

“Hey, Dr. Bowen, thanks so much for making time for me, I’m so sorry I was late on Friday.” She glanced angrily in Frankie’s direction for a heartbeat.

Rachel’s adviser responded with something Frankie couldn’t make out from her spot at the edge of the room, but it sounded positive enough. She took another step and Rachel’s finger appeared again. Sit your ass down, that finger said. You are on my shit-list right now, that finger said.

Frankie sat on the couch, eyes wide with growing panic.

Dutifully, as instructed by the app before Frankie’s phone battery died, the .50 Cal buzzed to life about 50 seconds into Rachel’s video call with Dr. Bowen.

Rachel squirmed. She squeezed her thighs together. The vibrator did what it did very well. Even through Rachel’s yoga pants and panties, it was very effective. Rachel shot Frankie a look as she tried to carry on a conversation with Dr. Bowen.

Frankie rose from the couch but was chastened again by Rachel’s threatening finger. She sat down, mortified, her stomach clenching.

“…but how do I earn that trust?” Rachel was asking—her voice was a full register lower than normal as she squirmed in her seat. Dr. Bowen responded with…words. Frankie watched Rachel work her flats off, kicking them away beneath her desk while she ground herself against the seat.

Frankie knew that motion. She unbuttoned her jeans and slid her hand down the front. Rachel was incredible! Frankie couldn’t imagine how she could keep a neutral face and (mostly) even tone while Rachel rocked her hips, drawing quiet creaks from the desk chair as she pressed ever harder. She locked her ankles together, then spread her legs wide. She clenched her toes then splayed them, eventually working her socks off without the aid of hands. Every minute or so she would glance over at Frankie, giving her a look that mixed anger and lust.

Frankie was equal parts terrified and aroused. She wasn’t even trying to hide it; she had worked her jeans down and was roughly stroking her clit beneath her plain cotton panties.

“…commitment to facts,” Dr. Bowen was saying when Rachel began her soft, hiccuping sound that Frankie recognised so well. “Are you alright, Rachel?” he asked suddenly and Rachel’s cheeks flushed.

“Fine! No, yes, I’m fine! I’m just—whew! I’m tired! And hungry! I’m sorry, no, my, um, my…roommate made dinner? It smells really good, I can’t wait to eat,” Rachel was almost shrill as Frankie watched her toes splay, then clench, then splay again. Frankie’s own climax was barrelling down on her as she watched her girlfriend struggle to appear casual.

“Well, okay,” Dr. Bowen said, sounding unconvinced. “Wednesday then? We’ll sync on Wednesday and see how everything is going?”

“YES!” Rachel gasped, kicking her feet out beneath her desk, causing her chair to roll back a few inches on the parquet floor.

Frankie heard sounds from Dr. Bowen. They might have been confused or awkward or completely convinced; she had no idea. Frankie was past understanding, instead simply watching Rachel—watching her girlfriend—orgasm on her webcam, in front of her faculty adviser.

This was the hottest thing Frankie had ever seen. She finger-fucked herself so vigorously she was sure Dr. Bowen could hear her. She slapped her glistening pussy, whimpering with each forceful thrust. Eyes on Rachel, she pinched and twisted and stroked her clit, watching her girlfriend denied the same relief. When the video call finally ended, Frankie was on her knees between Rachel’s legs before Rachel could even scowl.

The clock-radio in Frankie’s room displayed 1:15am. Rachel blinked slowly, combing Frankie’s hair with her fingers while Frankie drooled on her bare chest. “Babe?” Rachel asked softly, unsure if Frankie was still awake.

“Mmm?”

“Y’know you screwed up, right?”

“Mmm.”

“Cool.” Rachel smiled in the darkness. “Here’s how you’re gonna make it up to me…”

Knotty

Thaw

Fri, 27 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

The Year of the Orchard had arrived early, exactly as Juvielle had promised the people of Little Stoneleaf, and the Time of the Tapping had been upon Froatburn Dell when Juvielle departed, reassuring her people she would return before the Time of the Sowing. The trip to the high ridge had taken her nearly three weeks when she last came this way, but she hadn’t known the way, and it was deep winter then. She should have reached the hall of Queen Nechta—Talvra—in less than two.

Juvielle, Greenwhisper of Little Stoneleaf, planned to mark Balance Day with Talvra. The day when the sun first remained in the sky longer than it slept was sacred to her kind—those who spoke the words of earth and water and plant—and she needed to share that day with the Ice Queen. But the path from the ridge to Talvra’s forest faded, failed, and Juvielle had more than once needed to backtrack, moving purely by memory.

Despair had gnawed at Juvielle when, finally, she found Talvra’s palace. She choked back a sob of relief, it wasn’t too late, Balance Day was on the morrow. She would still be able to celebrate it with her love, the Lady of Winter. What did it matter if the clearing seemed smaller, the walls of blue ice less luminous? Juvielle had returned. Smiling as she had not since leaving Talvra’s side—three full moons ago—Juvielle snugged her ceinture fléchée around her waist and tucked it under itself, both ends lying loose against her thigh.

“My queen?” That wasn’t Talvra’s title, but Juvielle felt she needed some words of respect. When there was no response, Juvielle approached the doors. As before, they opened silently at her approach, almost beckoning her inside.

“Queen Nechta?” The hall seemed shorter, the door to Talvra’s bedchamber closer than when Juvielle was here last, and icy prickles of fear touched her heart once more. “Talvra?” she called, hating the quaver in her voice, echoing back to her from the vaulted ceiling.

“My Greenwhisper,” came the soft reply from beyond the doors at the end of the hall. “Still I await you.” Juvielle’s relief hit with such intensity she stumbled, before breaking into a run.

The bedchamber was much as Juvielle remembered. Vast and empty, walls and ceiling lost in shadow, columns of mirrors guiding one toward the most luxurious bed Juvielle had ever seen, piled with warm furs and soft cushions. Seated in the middle of the bed, the willowy woman Juvielle had come to see.

Talvra was just as Juvielle remembered. Long limbs, delicate fingers, slim but shapely, skin the colour of fresh cream, platinum hair cascading around her shoulders, and flinty, colourless eyes that, on another, could appear cruel, but in Talvra were curiously protective.

She was naked still, and the sight filled her with the sister feelings of love and desire. She was halfway across the room—catching visions of herself in the mirrors—in a heartbeat. The mirrors showed her fantasies, her desires, her needs—Juvielle on her knees before Talvra, offering herself; Juvielle standing over Talvra, holding the queen’s head between her legs; Juvielle wearing something she had no name for but giving her the form of a man—but she had no time for those.

Talvra was wrong. Smaller, thinner, Juvielle couldn’t tell quite how, but Talvra was less vibrant.

“Talvra!” Juvielle’s concern rapidly spiralling into fear. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

The Ice Queen held up both hands in greeting, and Juvielle went to her. Cold fingers found her cheeks. She didn’t smile—Juvielle didn’t think Talvra knew how to smile—but she exuded pleased contentment. “The end is here,” she said simply.

Juvielle gasped, “The end? What? No! No, Talvra, please!”

Talvra shifted on the bed, cold hands still holding Juvielle’s warm cheeks, but the queen was rising to her knees now, offering her lips. “Night ends, the star remains,” she offered, then her mouth met Juvielle’s. She slid her tongue between Juvielle’s lips, then began to explore her mouth once more. Juvielle moaned in response, her hands first brushing over Talvra’s shoulders, then to her breasts. When she had been here last, she had fallen asleep many nights with her face between those generous, pale mounds. Most of all, she had loved Talvra’s response when her tongue circled those nipples, those raspberry-bumped areolae.

“But Talvra—” Juvielle whispered, breaking the kiss for a beat even as her hands continued exploring Talvra’s breasts, then began moving further down.

The Ice Queen studied Juvielle, her expression inscrutable. “I would ask this. Before the dawn.” She locked eyes with Juvielle and began to remove her ceinture fléchée, allowing Juvielle’s tunic to fall open, exposing her rather modest chest. “Dawn,” Talvra repeated, unhelpfully.

Juvielle struggled out of her clothing, then pushed Talvra back onto the bed, her small, hard nipples rubbing against Talvra’s in a way that made her toes curl. She lay atop the queen, her hips pressing against Talvra’s, her dense, untended pubic curls scratching deliciously over Talvra’s hairless mound. She kissed and suckled and touched every part of Talvra she could, desperate to hold this moment in her memory forever. The way the Ice Queen sighed and arched her back, the way Talvra’s raspberry-areolae felt against her tongue, the way Juvielle’s coarse, scratchy mound felt against Talvra’s unblemished skin, even the way it felt when their hip-bones bumped.

She moved down. Kissing and licking and nipping at Talvra’s chin, then her neck, then her chest and finally her mound. She guided Talvra’s legs over her shoulders, then squeezed those porcelain thighs snugly against her head. “I love you,” she whispered, desperate to say it but hoping she’d been too quiet for Talvra to hear. Then her nose was against Talvra’s clit, her lips pressed firmly against Talvra’s labia and her tongue deep inside.

She licked, she sucked, she drew deep of Talvra’s juices. The subtle twitch and shudder of Talvra’s thighs against her head guided her. More there, less here, just like that. When Juvielle felt Talvra’s hands on the back of her head, she understood it was encouragement, not direction.

Juvielle continued.

Juvielle lost herself.

She licked and sucked and nibbled at Talvra’s clit, then slid a finger inside her cunt and drove it deep—wild, desperate, relentless. The bedchamber echoed with the wet, tender, loving sounds of their sex, and when Talvra finally climaxed, her thighs gripped Juvielle’s head so tightly the Greenwhisper’s vision dimmed.

I also love you. Juvielle heard without words.

Balance Day passed. Neither Juvielle nor Talvra—Queen Nechta, the Lady of Winter, so many other names—left the bedchamber. As the sun reluctantly settled below the horizon, Talvra caressed Juvielle’s cheek a final time. “Dawn,” she whispered. She seemed so weak now—Juvielle fairly wept.

“I await you.” Talvra’s eyes closed.

“The star remains,” she murmured, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips as a light snow began to fall outside.

Knotty

Valentine's Spice

Fri, 13 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

“Hey everyone! BooBuster is telling me dinner’s waiting on me so I’m gonna stop the stream here! Thanks so much for hanging out with me today! We’ll do another one again soon!”

The chat flared to life, they wanted BooBuster on cam, they wanted her to wave, they wanted to know what was for dinner. Hazel—TwitchWitch to her fans—laughed, waved and shut down the streaming program.

“I didn’t even choose that name!” Lena said, drily, from the doorway to the little room they’d set aside for video editing and Hazel’s recent streaming kick.

“You love it,” Hazel brushed past Lena on her way to their modest dining room, going up on her tiptoes to kiss Lena’s lips at the same time.

“You love it,” she countered, but she was laughing softly now, “because it lets you say ‘boob’ on every video without getting demonetised.”

“Shush! What’d you make me?”

“Oh my GOD, babe! What’s in this?” Hazel scooped another forkful of risotto primavera into her mouth, making sounds of absolute joy.

Lena beamed. She adored Hazel’s praise, it gave her a little flutter in her belly every time; maybe a little more than a little flutter. “Same old recipe, Haze,” she replied, though she immediately knew that wasn’t quite true. “No, actually, I added a bit of that weird spice you left on the counter. It wasn’t labelled but I took a little taste and it’s pretty good. Maybe that’s it?”

Hazel looked simultaneously uncomfortable and confused. She was feeling good. Really good. Like, not-eating-dinner-with-your-girlfriend-on-Valentine’s-Day good, more like after-dinner-with-your-girlfriend-on-Valentine’s-Day good. She tried to tamp down those … feelings for the moment. “What’re you talking about? I didn’t buy any spice.”

Lena paused, her mouth full of the creamy pasta and perfectly steamed veggies. She thought, chewed more, then swallowed. “Yeah, y’did. At the farmers’ market last weekend.” The look on Hazel’s face was unreadable now, so she went on, getting herself another forkful of the risotto at the same time—to hell with being polite, this really was the best risotto she’d ever made, “In that weird, eggplant-shaped bottle? Or mushroom? Whatever it is, the weird one.”

Hazel’s eyes went wide. “Babe,” she said softly, then swallowed and broke into wild laughter.

“What?” Lena couldn’t decide if she was relieved or annoyed by Hazel’s reaction. But she also couldn’t understand why she was getting another forkful of risotto.

“That’s not spice! Oh shit! You put magical aphrodisiac in our food!” Hazel’s giggles left her nearly breathless.

Lena squirmed awkwardly in her seat, she caught herself stroking her crotch through her jeans and glared down at her risotto. “Haze, did you buy ground mealworm from a spinster because she told you it was magic?” She tried to sound like she was scolding Hazel, but the growing need between her legs was betraying her.

“Dunno,” Hazel replied as she stood up from the table. “But I’m hornier than I’ve ever been. You?” She giggled again, but this time it was something…more sultry.

“I’m always horny for you,” Lena murmured, feeling her face grow hot. She was already unbuttoning her jeans under the table.

Hazel made a ‘mmm’ sound in agreement as she walked around the table. She was taking her time, doing that sexy-walk that always made Lena want to grab her hips and squeeze. When she finally reached Lena’s side of the table Hazel ran two fingertips over Lena’s lips. “Mmm, look at you…” she purred, looking down at Lena’s thin silk blouse. Lena couldn’t take her eyes off Hazel, off Hazel’s hips, specifically. The blouse—Lena’s favourite because it was Hazel’s favourite on her—wasn’t tight exactly but it was tight enough that Lena’s nipples, stiff little peaks, were standing out proudly beneath it. Lena rarely wore a bra and just now she was very glad of it.

Hazel took Lena’s hands in hers, gave them a gentle squeeze then tugged her out of the chair. They crashed into each other, Lena’s lithe, runner’s body colliding wonderfully with Hazel’s soft, beautiful curves. Their lips parted before their mouths met, tongues thrusting deep, exploring with desperate hunger. When Hazel broke the kiss to gasp for air, Lena lightly bit her lip, then laughed at Hazel’s expression.

“Getting rid of these.” Hazel’s voice was thick with lust as she carefully removed Lena’s glasses and set them on the table. “I won’t need ’em where I’m going.” Lena struggled frantically to get her jeans off. Hazel came to her rescue, steadying her until they were cast off. A second later, her panties followed while Hazel unbuttoned Lena’s shirt. She threw it back over Lena’s shoulders then descended on Lena’s nipple, sucking the achingly erect tip deep into her mouth, petting it with her tongue.

“Fuuuuuck, Haze,” Lena groaned. Her hands had first moved to her crotch, desperate for release, but she quickly changed her mind and instead took the opportunity to yank Hazel’s yoga pants and cotton panties down, exposing her ass to the cool apartment air. Hazel moaned her approval as she continued suckling and grabbed both of Lena’s ass-cheeks with her hands. “Stop, stop-stop-stop!” she hissed suddenly and Hazel released Lena’s tit with an audible pop, a thin trail of drool connecting her lower lip to Lena’s bud.

“Here,” Lena followed up instantly, and gently pushed Hazel to the table. The table creaked beneath her weight as Lena half-guided, half-lifted her onto the surface. “There, perfect.” Lena knelt, opened Hazel’s legs wide, and buried her face in Hazel’s fat, glistening pussy. She lapped all around Hazel’s entrance, drinking down the creamy arousal and moaning far louder than she intended. Satisfied, she pushed her tongue deep inside, wiggling against Hazel’s walls as she sucked. Hazel began rocking her hips and Lena moaned again at the pure joy of having Hazel’s mons squishing against her nose.

For her part, Hazel tried to move the dishes, glasses, and cutlery aside, but when Lena started eating her out, she was lost. “Baaaaabe,” she called out, trying and failing to get a grip on Lena’s short hair. “God-FUCK, that feels good!” Hazel’s voice was high, trembly and loud. She wasn’t normally loud but her senses had been turned up to eleven. She tore off her sweatshirt and hurled it toward the bedroom, causing the table to shake and groan again. “Fuck, babe, fuck meeeee! I’m gonna–suck my clit! Please! Fucking, please!”

Lena was more than happy to oblige. She pulled back, trailing saliva and pussy-juice in long ropes from her chin. “I gotcha, Haze.” And then her mouth was on Hazel again. She wrapped her lips firmly around Hazel’s pearl, then gently pinched it with her teeth and flicked her tongue over the tip, drawing exactly the sort of whimpering sobbing shudder from her girlfriend she’d been expecting. Hazel wasn’t using words now, just cries and gasps and grunts as she barrelled toward her climax. Before she reached it, Lena slipped two fingers back into Hazel’s dripping hole and began pumping. She knew exactly where to find Hazel’s g-spot and she petted it relentlessly.

Hazel screamed and locked her ankles behind Lena’s back as she started cumming. Her head swam and she rocked ever harder against Lena’s fingers pounding into her while Lena’s tongue and teeth did their magic on her little pearl. She made a sound that was a thready ululation as she heard utensils clatter to the floor, then the bread basket. Lena finally offered some mercy, no longer thrusting, just staying there with her fingertip pressed against Hazel’s most sensitive spot. Her thighs twitched, her pussy throbbed around Lena’s fingers, and she sighed deeply.

Hazel’s vision blurred—and then the third finger entered her. Lena was picking up the pace again; growling, the sound vibrating through Hazel’s crotch in a way that she’d never felt before. “Oh, fuck, yeah, do it, just like that! Keep—”

She didn’t get to finish her thought, there was a voice in the hall, just outside their door. “Hey, keep it down in there!” Both women stopped for a beat, then Lena began thrusting even harder, faster, the wet sounds of their sex getting ever louder while the table wobbled. Something small and metallic bounced across the floor.

Lena finally released Hazel’s clit with a soft ~~pffah~~ and pulled all three fingers from Hazel’s slit. Hazel squirmed in protest, trying to wiggle across the table to chase Lena’s fingers—and then the table went. Food, glasses and plates crashed across the floor.

“Holy shit, Haze, are you okay?” Lena stood over her, her fingers, mouth, cheeks and chin covered in Hazel’s sex juices, her thighs glistening with her own slick, and she had such a look of concern on her face that Hazel burst out in a fit of giggles.

“Get down here and sit on my face!” she ordered, desperate to drink Lena’s nectar.

“I’m gonna call the Super!” another voice shouted from the hallway.

Lena grinned, stood over Hazel’s head, then lowered herself down. Her pussy was just below Hazel’s chin and her face hovered over Hazel’s well-used cunt. She began licking Hazel clean, from clit to ass-cheeks, making loud, animal sounds of pleasure.

Hazel gripped Lena’s perfectly toned ass cheeks again and pulled them apart, exposing her delicate little rosebud. She felt Lena shiver with anticipation. Hazel lifted her head and placed a wet, lingering kiss there, then moved her right hand. Two fingers slid easily between Lena’s sloppy folds. Hazel’s thumb began circling Lena’s clit. “Y’ready?” Hazel asked, her voice gravelly. Lena simply licked harder, and further down. “Good.”

Hazel began licking a circle around Lena’s asshole, gently nudging and probing at the beautifully puckered ring. She didn’t know how long she carried on like that, but before long she was also finger-fucking Lena’s pussy, stroking her clit with increasingly wet and firm thrusts, and when she heard Lena’s plaintive call for release, Hazel relented. Her tongue bore down on Lena’s sphincter, wiggling and worming and pushing harder and harder until she was finally inside. She curled the tip and pulled back out, then worked her way back in again as Lena’s first cataclysmic orgasm arrived.

Orgasms chained—Lena convulsing, squirting over Hazel’s breasts; Hazel shuddering, her juices trailing down her legs, it became a blur of lust and bliss and connection. Their cat, Egon, emerged once, only to flee when Lena kicked over a chair in the throes of ecstasy. Voices continued—occasionally—to threaten calls to the landlord, to bylaw enforcement, to the police, but no knock at the door interrupted them.

They lay entwined amid the ruin, bodies sticky and sated, the whole apartment reeking of sex and spices. Egon had finally emerged from safety and sniffed the air warily.

“That was apocalyptic,” Lena murmured, nuzzling Hazel’s neck.

“You were outta control,” Hazel whispered back. “I kinda liked it. I’m telling that nice old lady at the market she really knows her stuff.”

Knotty

By Degrees

Fri, 06 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Eleanor had been invited to give a keynote at next week’s symposium on Journalistic Integrity in the Age of Social Media.

She was profoundly disappointed.

She would not be here for Valentine’s Day. The first Valentine’s Day since Heidi had come into her life.

She texted Heidi to give her the news, which, of course, she was absolutely jubilant over.

🎉👏🏆

Omg congrats!! so hyped you’re literally amazing 😭💖

I’m going to miss our Valentine’s Day, won’t be home until after 10pm on Saturday.

😢

j/k another time?

…

im free tonight 🙏

Eleanor’s disappointment vanished.

“Comfortable, Pet?”

Eleanor was using her ‘in charge’ voice, but the question came from a place of true caring. Heidi nodded eagerly. She never used words until invited to speak. Eleanor had trained her well.

“Wonderful. I have something special planned for us tonight.” Eleanor moved from the side of the bed and into her bathroom. When she returned, she paused to admire the sight. Beautiful, ginger-haired Heidi, secured wrist-and-ankles, was lying face up and spread-eagle on Eleanor’s bed. The bright red webbing of the under-mattress restraints contrasted beautifully against Heidi’s pale skin.

As would Eleanor’s own black, see-through, crotchless body stocking.

Once again, Eleanor marvelled that this brilliant, breathtaking Journalism major at Ashford College had come into her life. Members of Eleanor’s own graduating class had children her age! She bit her lip for a moment, suddenly uncertain, but then Heidi shifted on the bed, twisting her hips and revealing the neatly tended patch of fire-orange pubic hair and confidence returned.

She moved to the foot of the bed, the clacking of her heels announcing her approach. Heidi’s little shiver of anticipation sent a thrill through Eleanor’s belly.

“Now, Pet,” Eleanor began. “Tonight I want you to speak any time you like, do you understand?”

Heidi’s eyes grew wide. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good.” Eleanor lifted a cigarette lighter into Heidi’s view, delighting in the suddenly nervous look on the young woman’s face. The massage candle followed soon after and Heidi’s concerned expression shifted to desire. “I’m going to give you a massage, Pet. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to prepare the oil first, but you won’t mind if I apply it to your skin, will you.”

Not a question.

“I’d like that so much, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

“Good,” Eleanor said again. She decided to reestablish the boundaries once more before going all in. “Remember what I told you about speaking tonight, Pet.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

The cigarette lighter flared to life.

Heidi flinched, hissing loudly as the molten oil dripped on her bare foot, and again as another drop hit her other foot. Eleanor surreptitiously glanced up at Heidi’s face before setting the candle down and beginning to massage the sub’s feet. Eleanor took great care, pressing her thumbs along the curve of Heidi’s arches, working the oil and the heat into her bridges, attending each toe. When Eleanor’s hands left Heidi’s feet, the younger woman looked nearly asleep.

Heidi yelped in pain when the oil trailed a long line up each of her thighs. Her eyes flew open and locked on Eleanor…and said nothing.

Eleanor began massaging Heidi’s left thigh, down to her calf, then back up, inching ever closer to her perfect, innie pussy. Heidi shifted just a little when Eleanor nearly reached her crotch, moving to meet her domme’s fingers, but Eleanor was faster.

“Not yet, Pet, I’m not done pampering you yet.”

Heidi moaned softly, sounding disappointed…and said nothing.

Eleanor was beginning to feel light-headed with all the build-up when she finally dribbled hot oil over Heidi’s perfectly champagne-glass shaped breasts. She squirmed so beautifully, her chest rising and falling so fast with her deep breaths that Eleanor caught herself rubbing her own clit. Soon, she promised herself, then set the candle down and massaged Heidi’s breasts until her nipples were hard little pebbles. When Heidi made a quiet, lustful groan, it struck right at Eleanor’s core, her clit ached.

“One last part, Pet.” Eleanor leaned over Heidi, kissing her softly on the lips, then stood up. She picked up the candle again and blew it out. There was far more oil than she needed now. She moved to the foot of the bed for a final time and stretched over Heidi’s body. Heidi writhed slowly. Eleanor tipped the candle over and let the oil drizzle over Heidi’s perfect pussy.

“Oooow!” Heidi wailed and struggled against her restraints.

“Heidi?” No longer the ‘in control’ voice.

Heidi shivered, gasped, then locked eyes with Eleanor. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Eleanor set the spent candle aside. She took hold of Heidi’s ankles—gently, deliberately—and adjusted her position before swinging her own right leg beneath Heidi’s left and draping her left over Heidi’s right, opening them to each other. When their pussies kissed—and it was a kiss, lips pressing soft and warm against lips—both women gasped. The massage oil between them, their own arousal, slick and warm—Eleanor felt it all the way through her. She led, grinding her cunt against Heidi’s, rolling her hips constantly, her clit greeting Heidi’s again and again. As their passion built, their movements became jerky and uncoordinated. Eleanor’s head was filled with a lust-fuelled buzz, she realised she had been humping the inside of Heidi’s thigh, rubbing her ass-cheeks against Heidi’s cunt while Heidi was squeezing and twisting her breasts in a way Eleanor never would.

“Pet?” Eleanor gasped.

“Please, Mistresssss,” Heidi whimpered.

“Yes,” Eleanor gasped as she returned her sloppy honeypot to Heidi’s. She rubbed harder, ground and rolled and bucked and then she heard Heidi screaming and felt Heidi’s thighs twitching and felt Heidi’s vulva shuddering against Eleanor’s crotch and—

When Eleanor’s mind returned she and Heidi were lying limp on the bed, pussies still nuzzling together. Carefully, Eleanor moved away from Heidi, then shifted and lay down beside her, face-to-face. She slowly reached up and began undoing the restraint on Heidi’s left wrist.

Heidi’s eyes fluttered open. “N-not just yet? Please, Mistress?”

Eleanor blinked once, smiled and kissed the other woman softly on the lips. “Anything, Pet.”

Knotty

Reindeer Trials

Fri, 26 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Eleanor stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows in her apartment living room. The snow piled up on the balcony, and below, the city twinkled with a festive glow. She savoured a slow sip from the short-stemmed wine glass, delighting in the sweet, creamy texture. The eggnog flowed smoothly over her tongue and into her throat. The glass, with its squat, heavy body and square-ish bowl with a gold rim, was a ridiculous bit of nostalgia for her. The side of the glass featured two colourful stripes, one red and one green, topped with a ring of holly and berries. A childhood holdover, the glasses made the holiday feel somehow more special when she drank eggnog from them.

She heard a quiet movement behind her, but didn’t turn, not yet. Instead, she gazed at her ghostly reflection in the window, the city lights casting an ethereal glow. She kept herself in excellent shape exactly for nights like tonight. Her long, dark brown hair was tucked behind her ears, and a playful Santa cap held it in place, adding a touch of whimsy to her overall look. Her only other attire was a sleek, red leather bunny suit—sans puffy tail—which showcased the swell of her bust and the curve of her behind in a deliberate, tantalising way. A thick, black leather belt with a shiny gold buckle cinched at her waist, complementing her knee-high, shiny black leather boots. Each boot was held tight at the top, snugged against her thigh with its own shiny gold buckle.

After a prolonged moment, she turned, offering her beautiful young guest a faint, enigmatic smile. The sight of Heidi made her heart soar, but she kept her excitement in check. Not yet, that was for later.

Heidi, the pretty redhead, had shed her buttoned-down, overly serious classroom persona tonight. Eleanor recalled how earnest and driven that Heidi had been when they first met. Eleanor had given a Journalistic Ethics lecture at Ashford College and this brilliant young woman had waited for her afterward, eager to debate many of Eleanor’s assertions. She knew immediately that she must possess this girl.

Things had gone remarkably well, better than Eleanor had dared hope that first day.

Heidi stood exceptionally still, her shoulders squared and chin slightly lowered, just as Eleanor had taught her. Her hands rested on her bare thighs in a pose of subtle, patient submission. Perfect.

Her rice-paper-thin green teddy—one of several Christmas gifts from Eleanor this year—clung to her curves, perfectly complementing her petite frame. The delicate fabric seemed to glow in the light, and Heidi’s skin radiated a warm, golden undertone. The unlined top of the teddy provided a subtle lift to Heidi’s delicate, champagne-glass-shaped breasts, accentuating their gentle curves. The front panel covered her torso, but the sheer fabric revealed more than it concealed, leaving her sides, waist, and hips completely bare. The teddy’s open bottom was an invitation, and Eleanor’s gaze lingered on the exposed skin. Heidi was stunning.

“I have good news and bad news, Elf,” Eleanor said softly, using her ‘in charge’ voice. Eleanor’s commanding tone was unmistakable, and Heidi’s body responded instinctively, her muscles tensing in anticipation of what was to come. However, Heidi knew better than to speak out of turn, and she remained silent as she awaited further instruction. The air was thick with anticipation, and Heidi’s silence was a testament to her training and devotion to Eleanor

“The bad news is that one of Santa’s reindeer can’t work this year, so I will have to find a replacement. Fortunately, that leads me to the good news.” Eleanor approached Heidi with the deliberate slowness of a cat stalking its prey, her heels clicking out a rhythmic pattern on the hardwood floor. The sound seemed to echo through the room. “The good news, Elf, is Santa has one more gift for you.”

With a subtle movement, Eleanor used the toe of her boot to slowly slide a box from under the sofa. She left it at Heidi’s feet, the beautifully wrapped gift reflecting the warm lighting of the room.

“You can open it.”

Heidi squatted slowly, then knelt, just the way Eleanor had taught her, and carefully opened the box, the lid creaking as it opened. The label on the top seemed to gleam in the light, the words ‘PROPERTY OF SANTA’ emblazoned on it a promise. Inside the box, a bed of red silk cradled the contents. In the centre, a beautifully crafted under-bust harness lay waiting, the smooth brown leather gleaming with a subtle sheen. The harness was adorned with gleaming gold studs, and a bright red lace-up corset seemed to pulse with a vibrant energy. A row of three gleaming brass bells lined each side of the harness. A matching silicone bit-gag accompanied the harness, featuring a bell on each side, with a strap made of matching brown leather. At the bottom of the box, a candy-cane striped strapless strap-on lay waiting, prominently labelled ‘For Santa’s Use Only!’.

“Try it on, Reindeer,” Eleanor said, her voice slow and husky as she loomed over the kneeling girl, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Heidi stood up without hesitation. She carefully slipped out of her lingerie, and Eleanor couldn’t help but gasp softly at the sight of her sub’s enthralling beauty. As Heidi began to struggle into the harness, Eleanor’s eyes never left her. She watched Heidi’s squirming with amusement, her eyes glinting with pleasure. “Would you like some help, Reindeer? It’s only your first day, I know.”

Heidi’s eyes met Eleanor’s, and the look of giddy excitement that sparkled there was almost too much. She felt a laugh rising up, but suppressed it, not wanting to break the spell. What an incredible girl!

“Yes, please, Mis–Santa.” Heidi caught herself almost in time; tonight’s play was different, and she had to remember new things.

Eleanor took her time securing Heidi into the harness. She spoke in a cool, clinical tone, her words a steady stream as she announced each buckle, as if she were performing an inspection, her fingers moving with precision as she worked. As she finished cinching the last buckle, the one that held the harness snugly around Heidi’s waist, a shiver ran through Heidi’s thighs, a hint of her growing arousal that didn’t go unnoticed.

Eleanor took her time lacing the corset, her fingers moving with deliberate slowness. Once it was secured, she ran her fingertips over the whole affair, her touch light and teasing. Then, she cupped Heidi’s breasts briefly, her palms cradling them possessively. The sub’s sharp intake of breath and the stiffness of her nipples gave Eleanor all the confirmation she needed.

“Good, you’re almost ready,” Eleanor said as she bent down and retrieved the bit-gag from the box. “All we have left is this.” Eleanor stood behind Heidi, her hips brushing against the girl’s bare ass cheeks. She brought the gag over Heidi’s head, holding it before her mouth with a silent insistence. Heidi opened wide and Eleanor placed the bit inside, then tightened the straps until she was certain Heidi wouldn’t be able to properly close her mouth or talk for the duration.

“Perfect,” Eleanor intoned, sounding satisfied as she stepped back to inspect her handiwork. “But listen closely, Reindeer,” Eleanor said, her voice taking on a stern tone. “A noisy reindeer will wake the children and spoil Christmas. You need to move with precision, or you don’t move at all. Understood?”

A small pearl of drool had already formed on Heidi’s lower lip. She nodded, causing both the bells on her bit and at her side to jingle softly. Heidi’s eyes widened in surprise, her face a picture of shock as she realised the noise she had made. “Uhh-huh-whah.” Understood.

“What a good reindeer you are. Now let’s begin your training. Down.” Eleanor had to turn away to hide her smile as Heidi carefully got down on all fours. The jingling of the bells, the creak of the straps and leather, and Heidi’s own very loud breathing all combined to create a symphony of sound that thrilled the domme. “That was terrible,” Eleanor said, turning back, in control of herself again. “The family dog is barking his head off at all that racket.”

Eleanor slowly began to circle Heidi, taking in the sight of her sub on her hands and knees. Heidi made such a pretty picture, her breasts hanging free, her skin aglow. She was completely naked from the waist down, and Eleanor couldn’t help but feel a surge of desire at the sight. As Eleanor circled Heidi, her fingertips slid over her sub’s skin, tracing the curves of her body. She lingered for a long moment behind Heidi. Her legs were spread wide enough apart that Eleanor could admire Heidi’s firm, plump ass, but also her pink folds between her legs. They glistened a little, already slick with arousal. Below that, Eleanor caught sight of the thick, orange pubic hair she had told Heidi to grow out.

Heidi’s left thigh twitched.

“Are you getting tired, Reindeer? You woke up the family dog, and now you need to stay perfectly still. No sounds out of your bells, no matter what. You need to wait until the dog stops barking.” Eleanor very slowly caressed Heidi’s ass cheeks, tracing the curves of her body. She let her fingertips follow the gap up to Heidi’s tailbone, her touch light and teasing. “You told me you understood, Reindeer. I’m sure the dog will get bored soon, and then you can move again.”

One minute.

Two.

Heidi began to make a pained sound, the noise muffled by the bit in her mouth. Drool pooled on the floor beneath her, a testament to her growing discomfort. Eleanor watched, fascinated, as Heidi’s thighs and ass twitched and shuddered. The lactic acid must have been building up, and Eleanor could see the tension in the sub’s body.

Four.

“I think he’s almost tired himself out,” Eleanor announced, her voice a near monotone. She had retrieved another of their toys, a feather duster, and Eleanor began stroking the insides of Heidi’s thighs with it. Eleanor’s self-control slipped the tiniest bit, and she found herself running the feathers over Heidi’s pussy. It was pink and swollen with need, and Eleanor could see the dew collecting in Heidi’s pubic hair. The sub moaned in desperation and moved back against the duster. She was practically presenting, but she did it with such slow and careful movements that not a single bell made a sound. Eleanor was amazed.

“Very good, Reindeer,” Eleanor said, standing up slowly and feeling a little light-headed at her own excitement. Excitement and overwhelming feelings of love, admiration, and connection. “You may move again, if you like.”

She allowed herself a steadying breath, then another, before turning her attention back to Heidi, who was standing again and facing Eleanor, in the preferred pose; shoulders squared (We don’t do shame, we don’t do meek, we do proudly respectful.) and eyes slightly downcast. “The next training task, we’re going to practise following instructions. Stand at the windows, face the city.”

As Heidi walked to the windows, standing almost exactly where Eleanor had, there was barely more than a whisper from the bells. She learns so quickly, she always tries so very hard. “Stop there. Now, you’ll do as I say, but you’ll do it as evenly as possible. No bells, no rush, precision in every movement. Understood?”

A slobbery sucking sound came from Heidi before she responded. “Uhh-huh-whah.” Understood.

“Stand tall, hands on hips.” Eleanor started her with something easy.

“Touch your toes.” The bells whispered again, but Eleanor ignored it in favour of admiring Heidi’s bare bottom, her exposed slit and her beautiful, long legs.

“Squat.” This was more difficult still, but Heidi had been practising, not just in their sessions. Eleanor had her hold the position for nearly a minute as she retrieved the “For Santa’s Use Only” device.

“Knees,” Eleanor’s voice was sharper this time, less controlled. She was certain Heidi would notice, but no matter, she would know why soon.

“Stand, heel-turn to face me.” This time there was a faint jingle out of some of the bells along Heidi’s side, but their game was nearly at an end. She was sitting on the sofa, in the middle, with the strapless strap-on rising comically up from between Eleanor’s legs. The large bulb that held it in place was deep, deep inside Eleanor.

“Do you want to go for a ride on the sleigh, Reindeer?”

Heidi nodded eagerly, drool trailing from her lips all over her chest. “Yuth, plah, Sanha.”

“Come for a ride, then,” Eleanor beckoned her over. Heidi moved with the same precision as before, threatening to destroy Eleanor’s willpower, but as she lowered herself onto the fat, fake cock, Heidi’s eyes grew wide. It was bigger than anything they’d used before, but Eleanor knew her pet was ready. “Ride. Enjoy yourself, Reindeer.”

Eleanor’s voice was low, throaty with desire and she didn’t bother to stifle her moans as Heidi began bouncing. The thick bulb deep inside Eleanor slid and ground and thrust in response to Heidi’s every twitch.

Eleanor’s hands moved to Heidi’s perfect little tits, caressing each, smearing Heidi’s own drool all over the exposed skin, then she gave each nipple a sharp pinch and a little twist. In response Heidi’s belly flexed and rolled and her hips drove the dildo deeper into Eleanor than she’d thought it could go. In her silly Santa-domme boots, Eleanor’s toes clenched and flexed as her own pent-up desire barrelled toward release.

No! Not first! Eleanor thought wildly, watching Heidi’s perfect body, watching her soulmate, fuck herself madly on the ridiculous, candy-cane-striped silicone dong that ground and squirmed inside her own hot passage. She released Heidi’s left nipple and brought her hand down. She locked eyes with her sub as her thumb navigated Heidi’s dense orange thatch and then attended her clit. She circled, stroked, pressed, never losing contact as Heidi whimpered and twitched and dribbled spittle everywhere.

They didn’t climax together, Eleanor wasn’t able to manage that, but the way Eleanor’s climax crashed through her body, sent her into very un-domme-like squeals of delight, was enough to push Heidi over her edge. Within seconds the two women, the lovers, were connected by pure, animal bliss.

“Heidi, dear, where are you?” Eleanor was using her lover voice now. This voice didn’t command, didn’t instruct; this one confessed and praised and encouraged. Sometimes, only sometimes, it hoped—hoped it could be like this forever.

They were still tangled on the couch, the strapless strap-on still inside them both, both basking in the blush-pink afterglow of their shared lovemaking.

Heidi was slumped against Eleanor, her face buried in her domme’s neck. After a very long pause she replied softly, “Home.”

Knotty

Naughty or Nice

Fri, 19 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

I ought to say no, no, no sir.
Mind if move in closer?
At least I'm gonna say that I tried.
What's the sense of hurting my pride?

“Heidi, dear, where are you?”

Heidi’s face grew hot as she turned, heart racing in her chest. She’d been staring out the windows of Eleanor’s apartment and lost in the music playing from … somewhere. She never saw speakers but the room was bathed in the warm, comforting sounds of jazzy Christmas standards. Beneath her, the city spread out like glittering quartz on a dark beach. The apartment was warm and dim, lit by nothing but fairy lights and the Christmas tree, now that dinner was done, and for a moment Heidi had lost herself in the view; in the moment.

“Sorry,” she responded, quickly, whirling and moving toward the kitchen. “I was—”

“I know what you were doing, dear,” Eleanor purred, blocking Heidi’s path. “You love the view up here.” The older woman regarded her guest for only a moment—just long enough for Heidi to feel a flicker of concern—before offering her a tiny respite. “I finished up already. Dishwasher running, others put away.”

Heidi looked stricken. Eleanor had invited her over, made her dinner, and now she was left to do most of the cleaning up? She was already mentally berating herself as Eleanor’s warm hand touched her shoulder and guided her toward the living room. “Dear, you’re my guest. You don’t need to concern yourself with little tasks like that. Don’t be silly.”

The women moved around the roll-armed sofa before the tree. The leather was so shiny that to Heidi it appeared wet. Eleanor sat carefully down in the middle, directing Heidi to stand before her. “Are you dressed?” she asked simply.

Heidi squirmed—she’d been doing so all evening, truth be told, because she was, in fact, dressed. Eleanor had asked her to wear something flattering but modest as her outer layer but beneath … beneath Heidi was wearing only a full-body leather harness. The one they had picked out together last week. “Yes.” Her voice so quiet even the soft music filling the room nearly drown her out.

“Are you dressed?” Eleanor didn’t want words and she wouldn’t ask a third time.

Heidi’s blush deepened as she unbuttoned the thin silk blouse—another treasured gift from Eleanor—but the older woman was as serene and unfathomable as a winter landscape, her beauty frozen and unyielding, with only the barest hints of warmth and life beneath the surface.

Standing back up, before her mistress, Heidi undid the shiny gold buttons on her left hip that held her midi-length pencil skirt in place. She didn’t dare let it fall away, Eleanor had been working very hard, teaching her to respect her possessions, but instead placed it carefully on the sofa atop her blouse. She took the smallest steadying breath she could manage then stepped out of her chunky-heeled pointed toe shoes. Eleanor had commented on them one day they were out shopping together and Heidi returned to the store to buy herself a pair the following morning.

Standing before her like this, in the glow of the Christmas lights, somehow more exposed than if she were fully nude, Heidi waited in silence. Hoping for something she knew not what. The glossy green leather consisted of straps secured with gold buckles, studs, and rings. Diamond formations framed her champagne-glass breasts, their nipples painfully erect. A strap ran down from each ‘cup’ to a belt that encircled her waist then continued on to connect two more belts around each thigh, one at the very top of her thighs and a second a few inches below. Both of these Heidi had snugged tight enough to squeeze her flesh just a little. It felt like safety, like Eleanor’s embrace.

As she stood before Eleanor, Heidi felt a thrill of exposure, her crotch bared to her lover’s gaze, with only the soft, orange curls of her pubic hair providing a fragile sense of protection. Eleanor had told her to grow it out and it felt wonderfully decadent every time she touched herself now.

After long moments, the elegant woman seated on the sofa finally spoke. “Good girl,” Eleanor intoned, offering Heidi the smile she so coveted. Heidi felt her knees go weak at the praise and let out the breath she had been holding, unconcerned that, of course, Eleanor could see that she’d been holding it too.

“Now, down.”

Heidi squatted before Eleanor’s seated form, then lowered herself to her knees. She knew Eleanor preferred her to go to her knees in stages. She didn’t commit the sin of sitting on her heels, instead she remained upright and placed her palms on her thighs, waiting.

“Stay there.” Eleanor stood and strode purposefully to her bedroom. A moment later she returned with a large, lumpy Christmas stocking. It was the sort you would find in a pet store, with a clear, glossy pocket designed to hold a picture of a beloved companion. This one bore a photo of Heidi. It was from last September. She was looking right into the camera, laughing. Her messy, uneven hair was shockingly bright orange, except for the nearly-bare scalp of her undercut, where the stubble was a rich auburn."

Eleanor carefully placed the stocking before Heidi on the floor, then knelt behind her. Heidi could hardly contain her excitement with her mistress so close. She could feel Eleanor’s hot breath on the bare skin of her shoulders and her neck. Her breasts ached, swollen with need, as she leaned into the promise of Eleanor’s caress while the thrumming in her core intensified, a pulsing hum that vibrated through her entire body.

But Eleanor would ensure she had what she needed. What she deserved. She just needed to be patient.

“Tell me, dear. Have you been naughty, or nice this year?”

Heidi’s mind reeled. What was the correct answer? What would earn her rewards, and what might bring punishment? She had no way of knowing—she’d never been told.

“Oh, sweet girl, you don’t need to think, you just need to answer me.”

“I’ve … been … nice?” Heidi ventured, the tiny hairs on her bare arms standing up in excited anticipation.

“Wonderful. Then why don’t you see what’s inside your stocking?”

Heidi’s mind spun again. She’d answered correctly—hadn’t she? But she’d been given a command, no time to reconsider or to hesitate. She carefully, reverently, removed the first item from the stocking.

A paddle. An impression paddle. In a candy-cane pattern. Heidi’s eyes widened, and her thighs twitched involuntarily, a shiver running through her.

“That’s for you,” Eleanor murmured, her voice a husky growl against Heidi’s earlobe. “I’ll hold it for you while you look at the rest.” Heidi relinquished the paddle without a sound, though the promise it held and her mistress’s clothed body pressing against her naked flesh from behind, it was already more than she could take.

A jewellery box? Oh no! Heidi felt her stomach fill with butterflies. It was the box!

“Open it, my good girl.”

With trembling fingers, Heidi opened the jewellery box, though she already knew the contents so very, very well. A receipt from the campus coffee shop. The first time they’d gone out together. A book of matches with two missing. Eleanor had Heidi use them to light the candles the first time they used wax. The box was full of trivial little reminders of all the important moments they’d shared. She had no idea Eleanor had known about it.

“Have you been naughty, or nice, pet?”

Heidi was beginning to understand the shape of this game. “Nice,” she responded softly, her voice shy and uncertain. She felt foolish. Like a little girl.

“You have,” Eleanor agreed, and Heidi gasped as she felt the paddle caress her bare behind, soft as dandelion fluff. “See, it’s very easy. Now, there’s more.”

Heidi set aside the jewellery box and retrieved the next item from the stocking. As she pulled it free—an ominous weight in her hand—Heidi’s bare skin prickled with gooseflesh. The room was warm but suddenly she was very cold.

“Have you been naughty … or nice, darling?” Heidi couldn’t see her mistress’s face, but she felt sure Eleanor was glaring at the wooden spoon.

“I…” Heidi’s voice barely a squeak. The paddle caressed her buttocks again, its gentle touch both a warning and a promise.

“Words, Petal. You must use words.” Eleanor’s tone had taken on the menacing edge that filled Heidi with equal parts excitement and dread.

“I don’t underst—”

SMACK!

The candy-cane paddle’s sharp crack cut through Heidi’s words, leaving her gasping, tears welling up in her eyes. Her ass flared with pain immediately and she nearly toppled forward, but Eleanor swiftly pulled her upright by her harness. Still kneeling on the floor behind Heidi, Eleanor brought her lips to the sub’s ear once more.

“Heidi. Naughty or nice.”

Heidi’s teeth sank into her lower lip, her mind racing with the consequences of deception, struggling to find the courage to speak the truth. “Naughty,” she choked out. The paddle touched her skin again and she flinched before understanding it was a caress.

“There’s my good girl,” Eleanor breathed into her ear. Her fingertips were playing over Heidi’s bare stomach now, sending an electric thrill all through her body. “Explain.”

No! Heidi thought. She couldn’t confess. She couldn’t … she couldn’t deny Eleanor.

“W-w-wooden,” was all she could manage.

“You’re being very brave right now, my sweet. Now tell me.”

“I can’t,” Heidi felt herself getting light-headed. She couldn’t say these things out loud. Not to Eleanor! But she couldn’t disobey her either!

SMACK!

“I’m trying!” Heidi was gasping for breath, desperate for any way to avoid confessing.

“No trying. Tell me.” Eleanor never raised her voice. She never had to.

“His n-nickname, W-woodenSpoon,” Heidi finally began. The words came easier the more she spoke. She confessed everything. How he was a dom she’d met on VelvetChains, how they’d never met in person but how Heidi had submitted to him online. It was only once, early in the year, before Eleanor and Heidi had fully committed, but the weight of it had grown every time Heidi had kept it from her mistress.

“Please!” Heidi was shivering all over, crying, nearly hyperventilating at the idea that this might cost her Eleanor’s love and care.

Instead, the paddle was set aside, and suddenly Eleanor’s warm, protective arms wrapped around her. Eleanor was in front of her now, hugging her tight, in just the way Heidi loved best. “Shh, shh, shh, shh,” she whispered softly. “There she is. My brave, strong girl. I’m so proud of you.” She kissed each of Heidi’s cheeks softly. “You’re doing so well for me.”

They stayed like that for a long time. Heidi wasn’t sure how long. She’d practised kneeling even when alone in her apartment, and had become very good at it.

Eleanor’s voice was a gentle breeze on a summer’s day, “There’s one more, my flower,” she said, her words dripping with promise as she stood before Heidi, the stocking still on the floor. Heidi’s emotions had been wrung out, leaving her drained, yet somehow renewed. She was a canvas waiting for its next brushstroke.

But she’d been given an instruction.

With trembling fingers Heidi reached into the stocking once more. As her fingers closed around the device inside, Heidi’s mind reeled with confusion, followed by a thrill of shame that left her breathless and eager. She knew that looking up without permission risked another paddle—or something worse. But how could her mistress have known?

“Have you been naughty or nice,” Eleanor asked and her tone, as always, was gleaming marble under ice.

“Naughty,” Heidi responded, her blush colouring even her pale chest as she pulled the black, silicone covered device from the stocking. The electrical cord trailed behind. Then came the carefully wrapped selection of glass electrodes. Her breath caught as she studied the rake, then the mushroom.

“Is this what you wanted from me, my beautiful thing?” Eleanor’s voice was almost bored, but Heidi knew better. She knew in her heart that the wand was a gift for them both.

“Yes.”

Trembling, gasping, truly naked now save for a sheen of sweat, Heidi lay on Eleanor’s bed. She vaguely remembered Eleanor guiding her here at the end of their session, but what she remembered most was the overwhelming love she felt for Eleanor—and the deep, bottomless love Eleanor returned when she surrendered completely.

“Rest, my love, you’ve done wonderfully.” Eleanor returned to the bedroom, wearing nothing but a silk robe now and carrying drinks for both of them. “Drink first—you need electrolytes—then sleep. I have you.”

Knotty

A Quiet Storm

Fri, 12 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

The storm.

The light fades from blue to grey to black over the lake. All but the closest trees have been invisible all day as the blizzard turns the world into a light-grey blur. Now, as the wind continues to batter the isolated century home they share, the world shrinks to nothing but their quiet living space. To the quiet living room.

The pen scratches across the page. Stops. Hesitates. Drags a frustrated black line through what came before, rewriting history. Another attempt. Another pause, a tight exhale—the page is crushed in ink-stained fingers and tossed to the floor. The sheet joins its kin, scattered around the writer’s feet like autumn leaves. She glares at the blank, mocking page before her; at the ink staining her fingers—a galling reminder of every line that won’t breathe for her; of the truth the story refuses to reveal.

On the rug before the crackling fire, her lover reads in silence. A forest green blanket beneath, a red minky one draped over her shoulders—cast in a golden glow that makes the writer’s heart ache with love. She peeks over the pages from time to time, eyes full of the soft, steady warmth the writer has come to need more than air itself.

She tries again. The words will come; she just needs to try again. The words don’t come; the fury inside outstrips the storm outside. She crumples another ruined page, then looks again at her lover—the steady one, by the fire. Quiet. Supportive. Patient.

Calm.

In the storm.

The red blanket slips from her shoulders, lips parting in a wordless welcome. She rises, setting aside her useless papers and her inconstant pen. Ink-stained fingers clench unconsciously, her breath trembling as she crosses the room—answering her wife’s silent call. The distance is small, but each step quickens, driven by need and frustration. The eye of her storm turns, the red blanket falling away to reveal only warm, pale skin. The writer falls to her knees. Supplication.

She places her hands on either side of hips she delights in kissing—hips that have inspired her writing for years. Her lover, her wife, responds by hooking thumbs into the waistband of her tights, pushing them down as far as she can. A flurry of movement, and suddenly she’s sitting in her partner’s lap. Her thighs hug her inspiration’s waist, hungry mouth meeting waiting lips in a grounding kiss as unblemished fingers settle to guide the writer’s hips.

The writer makes a quiet, wordless sound of gratitude and need. Gratitude for her love, need for her body. They kiss again, slower, deeper, both moaning softly into the other as their tongues circle and curl and explore. As they part, both are a little surprised at the intensity, at the way she bites the lower lip of her partner. A quiet giggle follows, then smooth, clean fingers with perfectly manicured nails move down over the writer’s belly, through her wiry curls, and over her sex. Already warm. Already eager. The steady one giggles again at the sharp intake of breath and the almost animal way the writer responds, grinding and bearing down with surprising force.

The other hand moves to her hip. The writer’s fingers are always ink-stained, but her hip bears its own ink: two quills shaped into a heart. The muse loves to touch it; loves to kiss it; sometimes just looks at it in the early morning light while the writer sleeps. Now she presses a thumb hard against it and guides her love forward, back, forward again, back again, each cycle a little faster, grinding a little harder against those fingers now deep inside.

The writer’s gasps and sighs are so soft they are almost lost in the sounds of the fireplace and the storm outside. She swallows, parts her lips, and runs her tongue over bottom then top. Her soulful hazel eyes are locked on the reader’s green ones. She rides harder, faster. Her breasts bounce gently with each thrust. She steadies herself with both hands on her lover’s shoulders.

The reader’s hand leaves her hip, her fingers a feather-light touch over the writer’s waist, up her back, beneath her arms. She traces the shape of the writer’s glistening lips, smiling as she catches a glimpse of that wonderful tongue in the firelight. She lifts her chin and stretches her neck again, offering herself, and the writer claims her again. The kiss isn’t slow, nor gentle this time. The kiss is white-hot in its intensity, full of desperate urgency. The muse’s free hand moves down, over the writer’s clavicle and then claims the full, perfect swell of a breast. When she pinches the nipple firmly and gives it a slight twist, the response is immediate and satisfying!

The writer tenses, all of her, the pair of fingers inside her are squeezed and flooded with warmth. The writer’s shuddering, trembling gasps, sobs, giggles, they fill the quiet space with pure joy. The muse holds her—firm but gentle, knowing just how the writer likes to be embraced during these moments. The moments when there’s nothing but warmth and love and the afterglow of intense sex and the anticipation of more to come. When the last of her climax recedes—a wave pulling back from the beach, leaving everything fresh and new—the reader guides her onto the floor, in the middle of the green blanket. She pulls the red one over both of them and snuggles into a honeymoon hug.

Calm.

Knotty

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Fri, 05 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

The night air was bitterly cold. It was the first week of December, but this was the sort of weather Alex associated with the depths of winter.

She didn’t care one bit.

Two months ago, on a whim, she’d gone leaf peeping, a guided hike for “city folk” led by Harper. They’d spent every weekend since that one together, and now, tonight, the two women were cuddled together, standing at a chest-high barrel table beneath zigzagging fairy lights, listening to a band perform a mix of standards and holiday songs on a stage somewhere near the temporary skating rink. The Christmas Market was overwrought and overcrowded, and Alex was having the best night of her life.

Every night she’d spent with Harper had been a new “best of her life” night.

It might also have been the steaming, fragrant mulled wines they’d been sampling since arriving. At some point, they’d decided they were going to sample every one on the menu, and while Alex wasn’t regretting it yet, she knew she would be in the morning.

“Another round?” Harper asked, her sun-kissed cheeks practically glowing. From the cold? From the wine? From the company? All of it, Alex decided.

“We should go. I’m so cold I can’t feel my toes!”

Harper laughed softly and threw her thick woollen poncho over Alex’s shoulders as well, drawing Alex into a cosy tent that smelled like woods, smoke, and Harper. “Should’ve worn real boots, City Girl,” she teased gently.

Alex glanced down at her heeled ankle boots with the shiny silver buckles that had looked so cute in the store. “They’re perfectly practical! They’re waterproof!”

Harper didn’t reply with words, just that low, thrummy sound she made deep in her throat whenever she chose to let Alex enjoy a fantasy about life outdoors. Alex was about to protest when she felt Harper’s hand sneaking first up under her coat, then beneath the waist of Alex’s stretch corduroys. How drunk was Harper? … how drunk was she? Maybe “drunk enough”?

“Harper!” she hissed softly. “People will see—”

“Lexi?” The voice sent a chill down Alex’s spine. Andy!

Alex looked up, blushing furiously, noting the way Harper’s questing fingertips had suddenly stilled. “Andy?” she said, incredulous, hoping she didn’t sound too wicked.

Andy. Until September, she and Andy had lived together. Had been a couple since they were high school juniors. Everyone they knew “knew” they were going to get married and raise a family someday.

Until they weren’t. Until Alex figured out why she didn’t want that. Andy was sweet and kind and caring and would only ever be the star of his own story. There’d never be space for Alex. So she left.

And then she met Harper.

Harper only wanted Alex to be the star of her own story.

Who was the woman with Andy?

“Lexi?” felt, rather than heard, Harper ask softly in her ear. Those impossibly warm fingers had resumed their adventure beneath Alex’s waistband.

“Lexi!” Andy seemed genuinely overjoyed at the chance encounter. He manoeuvred himself and his female companion through the crowd, then bellied up to the barrel table Alex and Harper had half-filled with earthenware cups. He gave them only the briefest, but still judgemental, glance. “How are you?”

Alex grew cold at the same time a heat was building below. Thanks to Harper. “H-hey, Andy! H-hi! Merry Christmas!” The last bit came out a little shrill as Harper’s fingers somehow found their way beneath the waist of Alex’s panties, all very hidden by the dim light and the thick, warm poncho slung over them both. Alex still felt fully on display.

“Merry Christmas!” Andy responded almost on instinct. “I, um, heard you had a new … friend?” Poor Andy, he was trying so hard, and he was so unprepared for this. He awkwardly shot a hand out toward Harper. “Andy Travis! Alex’s … Alex and me … I was … hi!”

Harper fixed him with the smile Alex had come to recognise as the one she reserved for the greenest of the city folk who signed up for her hikes. “Harper. Ellison. I’m a park ranger up in Foxlight Highlands State Park. Nice to meet you, Andy.” She practically purred his name as her fingertips found the top of Alex’s dense pubic curls. She gave Andy’s hand a firm shake, then turned her attention to the woman at his side. The intense, attentive look Harper gave this other woman filled Alex with a tiny flare of jealousy. “We haven’t met, I’m Lexi’s girlfriend. You can call me Harper.”

The pretty woman at Andy’s side looked nearly scandalised at the open admission, but recovered herself admirably. She took Harper’s offered hand, gave it a light squeeze, and said softly, “Lindsey. Lindsey Hartwell.”

Harper smiled in an almost predatory manner. “Hi, Lindsey. It’s really fuckin’ cold tonight, huh?”

They made small talk for hours—or so it felt to Alex. Andy kept pretending to be nice, his bland, hollow persona he used around new people on full display; polished and superficial, like a bowl of cold oatmeal that looked comforting but lacked any real warmth or substance.

But Alex was too lost in Harper’s secret touch beneath the heavy poncho to dwell on it. Harper was relentless. The moment she had understood the dynamic, her fingers slipped past the waistband of Alex’s pants, teasing and firm, igniting a molten heat that spread through her body. Every slow, deliberate stroke made her gasp softly, her knees trembling as she struggled to keep her composure.

While Alex, Andy, and Lindsey made small talk, Harper’s hand persisted, unashamed—her fingertips exploring with unyielding purpose, driving Alex to the edge of control. Harper alternated between dipping her index finger deep, deep inside Alex, curling and petting the most sensitive ridges along her “front”, and pinching and twisting her sensitive little nubbin at the top of her pussy. Each touch sent shivers down her spine, her breath hitching as desire pooled painfully low, threatening to drown her in a wave of pleasure she could barely contain.

Harper was revelling in every sensation, her pleasure raw and unmistakable. Alex knew she’d make Harper apologise later—once they were alone—but right now, she was equally consumed, her body trembling under Harper’s electric touch, drowning in the heat, the shame, and the overwhelming rush of desire.

“Y’know what?” Harper suddenly announced, voice loud and unapologetic, enough to turn a few heads at nearby tables. “I’m really sorry, but I think I’ve had too much mulled wine. It’s so good, I just—” She fixed Andy with a look that was half-challenge, half-confession. “I gotta go.”

Her hand was still deep inside Alex’s pants, her middle finger still buried inside her, insistent and sure.

“No!” Alex shot back, sharp and desperate, voice trembling on the edge of protest.

Harper knew with complete certainty, there had never been, nor would there ever be, anyone more perfect for her.

“No,” Alex repeated, voice steadier this time; though Harper was flexing her finger, tormenting those sensitive spots inside her with slow, deliberate teasing. “You can’t drive! I have to take you home. I promised, Andy. Nice to meet you, Lindsey.”

Alex’s toes clenched inside her impractical but irresistibly cute boots as Harper curled her finger again, pressing hard before slowly dragging it out, savouring every second. Alex hoped she wasn’t whimpering, but she really couldn’t tell. Harper knew exactly what to do to send her spiralling over the edge—she was just holding on by a thread.

“You’re such a horny bitch!” Alex hissed, straddling Harper in the pick-up truck as the engine rumbled and the windshield fogged behind her. Alex was naked from the waist down, but the interior of Harper’s truck was warm, inviting, and thick with anticipation. “We could’ve gotten arrested!”

Harper chuckled softly, her fingers curling around Alex’s most sensitive spots again, teasing and demanding. “Your boyfriend and his new girl are going home wishing they were us,” she murmured, her lips brushing Alex’s ear. She stretched lazily, offering her lips as an invitation, eyes hungry.

Alex glared for a moment, then burst into a breathless, heated laugh. “No more stuff that’d get us arrested,” she said, trembling with need. Some nights were just for her—nights where she surrendered entirely to Harper’s touch. She pressed down hard on Harper’s fingers, desperate for the release Harper owed her, body trembling with anticipation.

Harper nipped lightly at Alex’s neck, her voice low, sultry. “I wanna meet this ‘Lexi’, I bet she’s hot.”

Knotty

Creepy Cabin Lust

Fri, 24 Oct 2025 00:00:00 +0000

“Hey everyone!” Hazel beamed into the camera she held at arm’s length. “TwitchWitch again we’re on another spooky adventure!” She walked backward down a narrow path toward a cabin surrounded by dense woods. “Of course I’m here with my producer, the original BooBuster!” She turned the camera on Lena who was carrying two bags of groceries and a cardboard box of Merlot.

“I didn’t even choose that name! You just like that it sounds like ‘boob’!” Lena grumbled gently. Hazel’s chaotic enthusiasm was the thing Lena loved most about her, and Lena loved a lot about Hazel.

The camera whipped back to frame Hazel’s ebullient smile, “We’re all the way out in – "

“The middle of nowhere,” Lena called as she appeared in-frame behind Hazel, carrying the supplies to the front door of the cottage.

“– the woods,” Hazel continued, undaunted, “spending the weekend at this reportedly haunted cottage to commune with the dead! And make s’mores.”

“Mostly s’mores,” Lena called again, nearly dropping the box of wine trying to unlock the door.

“It’s so weird, I’m not getting anything,” Hazel had circled the interior of the cabin three times, camera in one hand and K2 in the other, while Lena prepared dinner. The EMF detector hadn’t even flickered. Lena finished the dishes as Hazel added the bedroom and the bathroom to her exploration.

Outside, the weather had turned unexpectedly. Lena remembered weather reports calling for clear skies all weekend. Rain hammered the tiny windows and wooden walls as the wind buffeted the whole structure. A beast seeking a way in.

“Babe,” Lena called from the couch. “How about you take a break, huh? I got a fire going.” Hazel would be disappointed if she didn’t find any ’evidence’ but Lena really wanted an evening with her girlfriend.

“We should greet them! The spirits get testy if we aren’t respectful,” Hazel announced as she returned, the camera and EMF detector nowhere to be seen. She cleared a space on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“You’re thinking of my supervisor,” Lena teased as she moved to the floor as well.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite each other, with a small incense burner between them and a glass of wine each, the women began Hazel’s welcoming ritual.

“We’re hoping to communicate with anyone who may be here,” Hazel began, glancing around the dark corners of the room. “My name’s Hazel. This is Lena. We don’t mean any disrespect.” She shot Lena a warning look. Don’t scoff, it said. They won’t like it, it said.

“You’re welcome here,” they intoned together, a script Lena knew well. “You’re welcome here,” they repeated, and once more, then sipped their wine. Suddenly, an exceptionally powerful gust crashed around the cabin, throwing the front door wide and startling both women.

Hazel’s was jubilant! “Hello? You’re here? Thank you for that sign!”

Lena laughed as she ran to the door, making sure it was latched and bolted. “Babe, it’s a miracle this place is still standing! The wind blowing open a door isn’t a sign from beyond.”

Hazel offered a patient smile, “Well explain this!” She held up her forearm for Lena’s inspection. “Look! Goosebumps! It’s freezing all of a sudden!”

Lena smirked and pulled Hazel into a gentle embrace. “I’ll give you goosebumps.”

Giggling, Hazel draped her arms over Lena’s shoulders, “But the spirits are watching!”

“Well, they can like and subscribe,” Lena murmured, her lips meeting Hazel’s. Their kiss deepened as her tongue entered Hazel’s mouth. Hazel responded eagerly, pressing her hips against Lena’s and running her hands down Lena’s sides, tugging her shirt out of her jeans.

Lena moaned into Hazel’s mouth, kissing her with a desperate passion as she slipped both hands down the back of Hazel’s leggings.

“Babe!” Hazel pulled back, eyes wide enough to see the whites. “D’you feel that?”

Lena hesitated to admit it, but she had felt a strange tingle; probably the storm, the atmosphere, Hazel’s unwavering belief in the supernatural. Still, she had felt something. A little electric shock pulsing over their skin, not painful, just a pinch.

“Static discharge? From the storm?” she guessed, grasping at rational explanations, though she knew she was just throwing out words.

“They like us!” Hazel’s hands crept up Lena’s back beneath her shirt as she called out to the ‘spirits’, “Thank you! For letting us know you’re here!”

“C’mon, babe!” Lena murmured softly as she squeezed Hazel’s perfectly shaped ass. “It’s just us.” But even as she said it, her voice lacked the usual certainty.

Hazel claimed Lena’s lips with a fierce, hungry kiss, tearing her shirt over her head and tossing it aside. Her tongue invaded Lena’s mouth with urgent need as her hands unhooked the back of Lena’s painfully practical “granny-bra.” Hazel’s tongue tangled with Lena’s in a wild, drowning hunger, her lips trailing down to her neck before she grasped Lena’s full, inviting breasts. She squeezed once, then yanked Lena’s bra off, exposing thick, dark nipples to the cool night air. “Babe,” she breathed over Lena’s skin, her lips moving lower, to the sensitive curve of Lena’s left breast, where she suckled with teasing, possessive intent.

Lena gasped as an incredibly cold fingertip trailed down her bare back. “Haze?” she whimpered softly.

Hazel smiled impishly, releasing the nipple just long enough to say, “It’s just us,” then quickly unbuttoned Lena’s jeans and tugged them down around her knees.

The cabin shuddered, the wind buffeting it again and Lena was sure she’d heard voices – more than one – sighing happily beneath the gale. She opened her mouth to say something but lost her words as Hazel’s lips pressed against the her pubic mound, then further down.

She could feel Hazel’s probing tongue pushing against her panties; her treasures beneath.

“Haaa~,” Lena gasped, burying her hands in Hazel’s hair. She’d intended to speak but Hazel had exposed her pussy and began licking eagerly, back to front, curling her tongue inside with each pass.

Frigid, invisible fingers began teasing Lena’s nipples.

Lena tightened her grip on Hazel’s hair, and Hazel took it as encouragement. She lapped harder, faster, soft moans of delight escaping her lips as she explored Lena’s depths.

“Haze,” Lena gasped, her mind foggy with lust and a touch of panic over the hands now playing with her tits. Ghostly, icy hands that only heightened her arousal.

MmmHMMM! Hazel moaned into Lena’s pussy, sending a thrumming wave through Lena’s most sensitive parts. She moved her hands to Lena’s behind, giving each cheek a rough squeeze pulling her lover’s crotch firmly against her face.

Lena made a sound that might have been the start of Hazel’s name or just a wordless whimper, but she was silenced by a kiss. Their unseen companion, one of them, at least, claimed Lena’s mouth. The lips against hers were like ice, but the tongue that sought out hers was warm and full of passion.

She lost herself then, sinking into the wonderful feelings of riding her girlfriend’s face while ghostly hands played with her breasts and a ghostly mouth gave her a wildly passionate, longing kiss.

Other ghostly hands were on her thighs, on her back, and as one of those icy fingers grazed her labia then began probing gently at Lena’s asshole, she broke. Whimpering and trembling and squeezing her thighs as tight as she could against Hazel’s head while the first, of many, orgasms crashed into her.

Lena lay tangled in the blankets they had pulled onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling with an expression of blissful disbelief. Hazel kissed her softly, then got up and ambled int the kitchen. “Shit, the batteries are dead!”

Lena blinked slowly and pushed herself up on an elbow, a sleepy smile lingering on her face. “What? Babe, were you recording that?”

Hazel blushed prettily and let out a shy laugh. “I tried to! I didn’t think you were gonna, y’know, but yeah, of course I set up the tripod before we did the ritual.”

Lena groaned softly, a warm flush spreading through her. “I’m on a sexorcism tape.”

Hazel giggled as she rejoined Lena on the floor, curling close again. “I’ll edit it very tastefully! It’s gonna be our first million likes.”

They stayed there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms. The storm had passed and the night was silent all around. As Lena drifted off to sleep she thought she heard a voice from somewhere very far away.

Thank you for letting us in.

Knotty