by Sommer Marsden
“Take off your pants, Din-Din,” she says.
I laugh. “How did Daniel become Din-Din?”
She shrugs. “It’s cute. And doesn’t it mean dinner sometimes? Maybe it’s because I like to eat you,” Felicia purrs. She drops to her knees and works my belt since I have yet to do it.
I help her out, watching how she licks her lips in the semi-darkness. Her room is bathed in moonlight aided by a lovely pink, glowing salt lamp. Her long dark hair falls around her shoulders as she takes my cock in hand and works her small fist up and down my shaft. I almost tell her how good it feels but then her hot mouth encloses my cockhead and my brain shuts down and I can no longer form words.
She pushes her plump lips all the way down to my pelvic bone, taking the whole of my erection into her mouth and throat. It steals my breath in the best possible way. I wind my fingers through her dark hair tugging just enough to cause her to make that noise—the one that always made my stomach tumble with excitement.
We’ve only been dating a few weeks but sex with Felicia is a mind altering experience. If sex were a drug they’d name it Felicia.
I thrust into her mouth, savoring the feel of her tongue sliding up and down the back of my hard-on. I am stuck in the place where I want to keep the blow job going and I alternately want to bend her over and fuck her until she makes some other noises that drive me nuts.
I’m just about to pull free when she stops and looks up at me. “I want the belt,” she says. “Tonight. Please, Din-Din, I need it.”
Heat floods my face and a small tremor that can only be excitement courses through me. We’ve been talking about this since we met. She wants me to whip her with my belt. It gets her off. At first I was hesitant, it seemed like hurting her. Then I warmed a bit but not enough to act. But now, looking at those big blue eyes in the meager light and seeing her naked on her knees I embrace it.
“Fine, get the belt,” I say, nodding.
She doesn’t get up, she crawls to my pants and I watch her round ass the entire way. She pulls the belt free of the loops and returns, still on her knees, breasts swaying. She hands it to me and turns her back to me, pressing her upper body against the foot of her bed. “Fuck me first. Just for a moment.”
I’m not going to argue. I kneel behind her and grab her lovely, full hips. I drive into her easily. Felicia is the only woman I’ve ever been with who gets super wet from having my cock in her mouth. I wind my hands in her hair like a lead and hold her still as I fuck her. She growls softly, slamming her body back to meet mine. Her cunt a hot wet heaven to plunge into.
She surprises me by coming hard and fast, her body milking my cock, but I don’t come. I want to hold out. I want to experience whipping her with my leather belt before I get my release. I need to see why she likes it and what it does to get worked up, to get her off.
I stand on semi-shaky legs and wrap the buckle around my fist once so that all that dangles from my hand is a trim tail of leather. She sticks her ass out, splays her arms before her on the comforter.
“Don’t be too gentle on me, Din. I can take it. I crave it.”
I nod to myself because she can’t see me. She has her head turned away and her dark hair cloaks the sides of her face anyway. When she waggles her ass at me, I find my nerve, even as my cock twitches, still hard as a rock and aching to be back inside her slick pussy.
I bring the belt down once on her ass, tentatively. I’m not sure what’s hard and what’s too hard. She hisses, and then a rougher sound escapes her, but her back arches up to kiss the leather instead of flinching away.
“Harder than that, Din,” she manages, her voice hoarse.
I bring the belt down again and see, even in the weird eldritch light, a red stripe appear on her bottom. My heart pounds in my ears and I swear I hear her inhale deeply.
“Felicia? Should I—”
“Again,” she says, her voice sandpaper and broken glass.
Her back ripples briefly, from the pain I wonder, or just a very strange optical illusion from the October full moon. I bring the belt down again, watch it lick across her pristine white skin, hear the crack of it like a sharp report of thunder.
The illusion manifests again but this time I realized it’s not an illusion. Like snakes writhing beneath her skin. Her bones and muscles seem to buckle and sway. I take a step back, dropping the belt. What have I done to her?
It’s only when she turns her head, spotlighted by the glow of the full moon through her window, that I see the hair that had filled in along her cheeks, the fact that her nose is more of a muzzle now, the blue eyes that seemed three times bigger. “I needed your help,” she says, but the voice is no longer Felicia’s.
“Help?” My heart is pounding, my feet itching to run. Some weird lizard brain instinct tells me running would be bad.
She nods at the belt. “The pain. It helps me change. Otherwise I get stuck. I’m only a half breed.” The growl in her voice as the words come out of a throat that shouldn’t be able to form them has the fine hairs all over my body standing on end. I’m cold all the way down to my bones.
She turns so fast I see running is no longer even an option. Her skin, her muscles, even bones it seems, heave and roll. She moves toward me and I catch the pure animal speed in it. The feral nature. She’s fast and I felt the spread of urine down my thigh. I don’t even have time for shock or shame because she reaches a finger toward me and it’s tipped with a wicked sharp claw.
“Don’t try to run, Din,” she says. “It’ll go much faster this way. Easier for you.”
At the very last second, I try to run anyway but she’s already sprung and as she hits me with the full weight of her almost morphed body I sob because the nickname Din-Din is making a whole lot more sense.
Sommer Marsden has been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler), “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen),and “Erotica royalty…” (Lucy Felthouse). Her erotic novels include Muse, Chasing Shade, Restless Spirit, and Restricted Release.
You can find Sommer’s short works in well over one hundred and twenty-five (and counting) erotic anthologies.Visit her at Unapologetic Fiction