Cornucopia Eroticana

By Jonathan Biernot

From the author of the best-selling The Sapphos Trilogy. Tanya is a Slavic beauty in her late 30’s – a sexy, seductive, provocative blonde, with a rough background in need of a place to land. She meets the author of this tale in a chance encounter at a railway station, after which he brings her to his luxurious estate. She tells him of the Master she served as lover, whore, sex-slave and bitch, and the depths to which she was taken by this brute and his guests. She obeyed this Master’s every wish, becoming subject to heavy bondage, flogging, double-penetration, group sex and unflinching service. With the man who takes her in, she’s open, compliant and willing to serve him as well, because this is who she has become and still desires to be.

This one-of-a-kind of anthology includes Miriam’s Eye-Opening Experience, where the cock slut Miriam enjoys a trio of black lovers, Emma’s Day at the Beach – a day that turns into a gangbang in a restaurant – as well as the story of Maureen who gets fisted at her own request in The Gardener-Cum Handyman.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pink Flamingo Media LLC
• Release date: Dec 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781950910199

Book preview

Cornucopia Eroticana

An Erotic Anthology

by:

Jonathan Biernot

ISBN: 978-1-950910-19-9

A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

Copyright © 2019, All rights reserved

For information contact:

Pink Flamingo Media

www.pinkflamingo.com

P.O. Box 632 Richland, MI 49083

USA

Email Comments: [e-mail]

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers.

Preview

Jonathan Biernot writes Erotica for men and women in many corners of the world.

Whatever your gender, it’s easy to imagine a personal inclusion because the settings are authentic in the way they blend irony with imagery in works that are tasteful with no inclination towards pornography.

Cornucopia Eroticana is an anthology of unrelated anecdotes centring-on men engaging with women, and women engaging with men, in intimate congress; it’s written in the same vein as ‘The Sappho Trilogy’.

‘The Sappho Trilogy’ is an elliptic love story that describes how a chance encounter transforms the life of a beautiful, young, North American, woman: a wife and mother; in ways that lead her through the myriad-phases of self-discovery to an addiction to cock.

Her ‘Initiation’ tells how Sappho is introduced to the realms of eroticism and submissiveness; her ‘Interim Affair’ narrates an easy transition from an addiction to cock to an addiction to Black Cock; thence, onwards and upwards, her ‘International Role’ outlines how Sappho capitalises her orientation by facilitating the Global transactions of an International Arms Trader.’

An Ode to Manuela

"You were to become my Slave;

To be my Bitch, my Whore and my Cock-slut:

There to do my bidding; the intention to be open to me at all times and in all places;

To take the whip, the cock, the ink and the piercings;

To be used, abused and debased by me; at whim,

and according to my fancy.

Your role was to surrender; to please, to serve and

to satisfy all-and-sundry:

Yet; your inner beauty outshone your outer beauty and you performed so well; so dutifully and so faithfully;

And that, to my bewilderment.

You gave your all; you held back nothing and, even then,

you pleaded and sought-out for more.

Thus, I became enchanted, charmed and bewitched by you and, now;

In the place of brutality comes tenderness;

One that has been transformed to love and fears your loss;

which, in turn,

has made me your Slave as you took the step from

Mistress to Master:

To you, Manuela, goes this Salute"

Prologue

Cornucopia Eroticana is an erotic anthology written in an explicitly realistic, fast flowing, style.

Its Goal is to present stylishly with no tendency towards pornography.

This is a collection of stories about men’s conjugal relations with women and women’s conjugal relations with men.

While there are examples of extreme sexual practise there are no instances of duress nor any occasions that end unhappily.

"The Idea is to Show respect for everyone’s Emotional and Intellectual Well-being"

Alleluia

Chapter One

Tanya’s Story

Tanya is from Eastern Europe; she’s in her late-30’s or early-40’s; a Slavic beauty from a rich, family-heritage; about 5’8’’, a size 8 or 10, blue eyes, long, blonde hair, classic, high-cheek bones, pouting rosy-red-lips set in a pale-visage, with long, slim, well-shaped legs. This woman has an amazing brain behind one of the most photogenic of faces and atop an ultra-erotic body that many amongst mankind will be hard-pushed to imagine, let-alone believe, such reality actually exists in their world.

At one time, she’d borne this beauty with ease but her life of prosperity, grace, and outstanding achievement had foundered on the rocks of divorce to a foreign-man in a foreign-land and pride had prevented her calling her family for relief, let alone rescue.

Such was discovered, by a Star-Graduate from a prestigious State University; a former Investment Banker, Model, Musician and Businesswoman, that, when you’re caught between a rock-and-a-hard-place, you get squashed. Yet, in all of this, she’d had good-fortune to thank because, although Tanya was desperate to become a Mother, she’d never fallen pregnant during her slide from feast-to-famine.

Our encounter was in a railway station; her big, blue-eyes had latched onto me like a laser-beam and the awareness of such intensity was impossible to ignore; so, after breaking-step, I caught her gaze and smiled.

That did it; a long time had passed since anyone had smiled at, or showed any warmth towards, Tanya and she didn’t try to mask her glee.

Are you going my way? seemed like a pretty-good opener and this was the trigger to rekindle her coyness; her face lit-up, her mouth opened to flash brilliant-white teeth and her eyes shone like a spring-morning. Yes, as long as you can handle me!

By this time, we were standing face-to-face in a closed-twosome and the lines of exhaustion were visible. Are you ok? You can tell me.

Can I? I have a lot to tell…

Yes, you can, but you don’t have a ticket or anywhere to go, do you?

No; no, I don’t

Well, we can fix that but it’s a four-hour journey and then a bit of a drive. Can you handle it?

Yes: yes; yes, yes, yes…and thank you; thank you, thank you…

So, after re-scheduling my ticket to reserve the whole of a Four-seat-booth over a Dining Table, we boarded in good-time but not before Tanya was able to go to the Shower-Room, clean up, change her clothes, revitalise her spirits and come out, looking like a Super-Model, to join me in the Bar.

What’ll it be?

Is that a Gin and Tonic?

Yes, it is; but it’s a large-one! Can you handle it?

Hey, Mister, she smiled, that’s my line, or is it your regular question?

Yes, it is. I need to know; presumption isn’t allowed!

The ice was broken; Tanya was thawing-out; she looked good and, although the lines on her face hadn’t disappeared, they were not so deep as before and her natural radiance was beaming its way in my direction.

So, we sat; easily and quietly, nursing large Gins and Tonic and absorbing every shred of subtlety and nuance towards the pictures we were building; it was looking promising and, whereas we both knew there were depths to plumb, we also knew there would be time and little resistance to the flow.

We sipped and sipped and, with 15 minutes to go, left the bar to board the train, stack the luggage and take our seats before ordering two more Cocktails, a bottle of wine and Dinner. Tanya was relaxed; she was comfortable; she’d resumed her natural poise and it was clear she wasn’t wearing a bra.

A four-hour, evening-ride is a long journey, so, after all the liquor, dinner and post-prandials, driving for another hour-or-so was abandoned in-favour of booking into the Village Hotel. Tanya declined her own room and opted to share mine and, more so, my bed: so, we ordered a bottle of champagne, sea-food canapes, a pot of coffee, cognac, sweet cakes and chunky, rich biscuits; then, after we’d flipped into the showers, we met in the Drawing Room.

It’d been a long, hard, tiring day yet, even though it was ending on an unexpected high, we sat-up in our bath robes; we ate, we drank and we talked; we talked and we talked some more. The outline of her story was worse than unpleasant and it was getting nastier by the moment until I leaned in, took hold of her shoulders, wiped away her tears and kissed her: the kiss was the release that opened the flood-gates.

Despite her brave-face, this woman was broken; she was crying-out, silently, for a touch of humanity, something more than a human touch; for the security of being allowed to ‘Be’ and she’d sensed this capacity from the other side of a mainline railway station. So, we segued towards the bed, slipped under the covers, still swaddled in our bath robes, still holding onto one-another, and, as her breathing slowed, she fell asleep and I followed-suit.

It was about 0300hrs when her lips clamped around my cock and, within moments, her mouth was full.

What’re you doing?

Oh, gosh; I’m sorry, I’m so sorry; it’s a practise that’s been burned into me. I forgot where I was and who I’m with. Forgive me, please, and let me explain… but it was too late to explain because my kiss had landed on her lips; it stopped her talking and her tongue tasted of my salt.

Next time, don’t swallow.

What?

I want you to hold it in your mouth and share it with me then we kissed again and her eyes told me she’d got the picture.

She was going to explain the way it worked: if she woke first, she had to crawl-under the bed-clothes and blow him awake; but, if he woke first, he’d place his hand behind her head and move her mouth-over; however, she was just part-way through her routine: the man from whom she’d just escaped demanded oral satisfaction, every morning, before having her kneel, ass-up, head-down, back concave-down, tits out, legs splayed wide while she pulled-herself apart so he could brown-hole her, without a condom; then she had to lick him clean: he liked to humiliate her: and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

We had breakfast while Tanya described the clothes she had: mostly light stuff; dresses, shoes, jeans and underwear; nothing rugged.

Hmmm; ‘Underwear’, I thought? Ugh: repugnant!

Anyway, re-equipping her was our next goal: my idea was to get her some kit and walk her over the fells to exhaust her, physically; this would drive her circulation, that would refresh her mind: her emotions and spirit would follow, so we went shopping then took the drive out to my Estate.

You live here? You own this place? This is your home?

Yes, to all those questions; this is one of my homes.

We’d just crested a hill, and triggered an electronic signal, when ‘Big-House’ came into a distant view; as we approached, a very large man appeared, waved and walked towards the Car Parking Stand adjacent to the Helipad; John was the Resident Manager and he was smiling as he always did.

Good morning, Sir!

Good morning, Boss; sorry we’re a day-late but you got the call?

Yes, Sir; thank you, and it’s all ready for you.

Good. Tanya, this is Mr. Robson, the Estate Manager; Tanya will be staying with us for a while.

Welcome, Ma’am, we’ll look after you.

John helped us with the bags, showed us to the Private Quarters, and advised coffee, sandwiches, cakes and biscuits would be served in the Study.

Why does he call you ‘Sir’? And why do you call him ‘Boss’?

"I was his Commanding Officer and he saved my life; John was my Warrant Officer and, as well as making sure my Orders were carried-out, he taught me more about soldiering than anything at Staff College; except for one thing: ‘win-over the WOs and you win-over the men’. I’ve always respected him and his Status and he’s always mentored me. So, when he retired, I invited him to Manage the Estate and he’s doing a bloody-good-job."

You were a soldier? It doesn’t show, mind!

We were in the Study when her tears started to flow again; Tanya was at ease, now, and she focused on the man from whom she’d just liberated herself. He was married, a businessman in his late fifties-early sixties, of South Asian extraction; tall, fat, bald and bearing all the ugly traits and characteristics imaginable in mankind; nevertheless, she told me he was well-hung: maybe that made me wonder ‘Why?’

She told me she’d fallen for him after her divorce; she wasn’t sure if the root was love or something else but his magnetism had infected her like a virus; drawing her in and holding her under his spell in a way that both revolted her yet bound her, inextricably, to his dominance: further, his vileness compelled her to want to obey him and satisfy his every demand.

He’d set her up in a flat and barred her from inviting guests, going to bars or restaurants alone; he discouraged her from acquainting with the locals, neighbours and shopkeepers. He told her ‘she was his whore’ and kept asking her, Who are you? to which she’d reply, earnestly, I’m your whore; your bitch, your sex-slave, your slut-fuck, your Mistress, your lover: I’m at your whim and fancy; the one whom you and your guests can use, abuse and debase. Then he’d ask; And who am I? to which she’d reply; You’re my Master. He decided how she lived, breathed, performed and, if necessary, died; yet, he’d never insisted on any body-modifications; astonishing, but it was easy to see the equation and the quid-pro-quo.

His modus operandi was to visit on a whim and she had to be ready for him; implying, no bra, no panties, hold-up stockings, high heeled shoes, an elegant dress, which, as a concession, could be of her choosing: she had to be made-up, perfumed and depilated. On occasions he’d come and they’d have dinner delivered; on other occasions he’d take her to dinner; sometimes he’d invite her to go out to dinner and send a Cab but there were an increasing number of occasions when he’d invite his multi-ethnic acquaintances to join them in her flat for dinner and, afterwards, to use her.

Astonishingly, Tanya took this, and his other sexual extremes, in her stride: for example, he knew she wanted a baby; so, because he didn’t want her to get pregnant, he ordered her to take the combined oral contraceptive