Intense Conjure Desire

By Conjure

The short stories collected in this book were all motivated by wild, first-hand accounts and fantasies taken from dozens of lifestyle couples and singles. Writing these stories helped to explore the various characters, voices and perspectives that would inform her "Intense" series of erotic and mild BDSM romantic.

Sarah Chase

"I hung on to her as her back arched and her head flew back, breaking the kiss. The scream that escaped was primitive and drawn out and echoed through the room, even after the last of the air left her lungs and she began to slump against me."

Blue Mercedes

"I don't know what made me look. It's possible I recognized the song playing on his car stereo, but I can't be certain. His smile revealed perfect teeth and his eyes were dark and intense. I would normally have looked away, once eye contact was made. Possibly with my nose in the air in the way young girls seem to be universally trained to react to lecherous, balding, pot-bellied older men and all Italians..."

Intense Passions

"We kiss, my tears mingle with his, and when he finally speaks again his voice is low and throaty. "You're especially beautiful when you've been a bad little girl, you know." He is holding me tightly against his body, caressing every curve and staring deep into my eyes."

And two other stories...

• Language: English
• Publisher: meetcoogle
• Release date: Oct 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370103973

Conjure

Conjure, is an author known for the teen romance, erotic romance, perfect chemistry and romantic love story. She is a Noida Times Bestselling young adult author. Conjure has won the 2010 Award for Best Young Adult Romance. Conjure is one of the world's most beloved storytellers. A magical practitioner for over twenty years, she is also an interior decorator and artist. Visit her online at www.meetcoogle.com.

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Intense Conjure Desire

Conjure

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Conjure Copyright © 2014

Published by Conjure at Smashwords

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Photo Shoot

I remove my very favorite pieces of lingerie from the dresser drawer and lay them ever-so-carefully on our bed—smoothing a bit of ribbon here, caressing a piece of lace there. My heart is pounding and my breath is short in nervous anticipation of what I plan to do. Before tomorrow’s innocence is lost, I will slip these wisps of silk and leather over the smooth curves and graceful angles of my sexuality and twist my body into a photographer’s image of grace and beauty to be Kodacolor-captured and permanently printed.

The warm tingle of arousal builds between my legs; I will do it as much for my own enjoyment as the prurient desires of voyeurs or the exploitive goals of capitalists.

I slip my fingertips inside my panties—through pubic hair trimmed with care—to the wetness and warmth of my longing. I stroke myself there and whisper the words I long to hear:

You are being a very bad girl.

The house is quiet and I am alone, so I reach back and slap my own firm ass—playing the scene out in my mind.

I’m going to turn you over my knee, young lady.

I bend over the bed in fantasized obedience, waiting in squirmy anticipation for his hand to raise a red welt on one tiny, pink cheek.

This is what you deserve for showing yourself to that photographer.

Crack.

The sweet pain radiates through my loins and I press my fingers deeper into myself.

You should be ashamed of yourself.

Slap.

The other cheek burns and I squirm in delight while denying the pleasure.

Oh please stop.

Not until I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson, young lady.

I tighten my muscles in anticipation of the next stinging impact, but the mood is broken—my desire unfulfilled. My lover will not spank me this night and I carry the longing with me when it is the photographer’s eyes that pierce the thin armor of lingerie covering my breasts and cunt, the photographer’s penis that strains against Levy and Jockey, and the photographer’s imagination that has my body arched in ecstasy—his hard cock slipped past my burning buttocks and fucking me, filling me.

It is neither the heat of photo lights nor the late summer sunlight streaming through the glass covering one wall of the studio that is the cause of my perspiration or the source to the motivation which thrusts my hips toward the camera. I expose the center of my femininity to lust-filled eyes that will stare at the results—their cock in hand or cunt cupped by sweaty palm until pushed beyond that special point where urgency ends and fulfillment begins.

They will have experienced me then, those unknown people in unseen places, and a part of me will be a part of them while I lie here alone in my mind’s world and imagination’s embrace.

I was a bad girl, today and my sins go unpunished until I close my eyes and bring my lover to me in fantasy. I shape him tall and handsome and paint him stern yet passionate. He is standing over me with hands on hips, gently scolding me.

Well, little girl. It appears you’ve been very naughty.

I feel that familiar tingle again. I’m ready to be punished; I long to be properly disciplined.

Yes, I know, I whisper, hearing the nervous anticipation in my own voice. I feel his eyes surveying my shape. I am wearing tight jeans and an even tighter t-shirt.

No, wait! I am wearing a pleated skirt and tight sweater…and my creamy, smooth skin is visible over the top of thigh-high stockings. He is staring at that sweet strip of innocence holding the promise of sensual delight just a few inches higher under plaid wool and white cotton. He beckons me closer—points toward the couch.

Lean over, young lady, he commands and positions himself behind me as I grab the back cushion and bend over.

His hand makes tentative contact through skirt and panties—testing, tempting. He lifts the short skirt, revealing the white cotton below, and gently caresses my ass cheeks through the thin fabric. My head spins. My heart turns cartwheels. He delivers the first real blow.

Slap.

It stings a little this time and I tense myself while succumbing to the sweet sensation of flesh impacting flesh. Oh so sweet. Life itself surges through my being, captures the fantasy and gives flight to my soul.

Tell me what you showed the photographer, he says, struggling to keep his voice in control. I hesitate and he repeats the command, more insistent this time. I asked you to tell me what you showed the photographer. He saw your cunt, didn’t he?

I swallow hard as he pinches my butt through the fabric. I showed him everything, I finally admit in a frightened little voice.

That’s what I thought, he says with anger creeping back into his voice. I feel him punch his thumb into the thin underwear and a moment later forces his fingers through the fabric and rips them from my body in one motion. I’m going to have to make this a serious lesson, young lady.

He runs his hand over the smooth skin revealed and gasps as he slides his hand between my legs and along the folds of my cunt. His hand jerks back and comes down hard almost immediately. You’re wet! he says. Your nasty little privates are wet. You enjoyed exposing yourself to him, didn’t you? He raises his hand to strike and waits one agonizing moment while I tremble below him.

Crack.

God, it hurts so good. I can feel my cunt melting, my clit aching to be touched. As if hearing my thoughts, he slides one hand between my legs and presses it up against the source of my lust, my need… And his hand comes down hard in the same spot as before.

Slap.

Answer me! he snaps. He’s undoing his belt and I wait for the sting of leather until I realize he’s removing his clothing. I look back between my legs and watch him press the fingers of one hand into my wet, inviting hole, massaging me rhythmically with his thumb.

Tell me you liked him staring at your naked breasts.

He spanks me hard, my knees buckle and only his fingers hooked inside me prevent my collapse.

Tell me you enjoyed seeing his eyes riveted between your spread legs. His hand comes down still another time and the hot explosion of orgasm overwhelms me. I press my swollen mound against