Carnal: Erotic Stories & Flash Fiction

By Torrance Sené

Inside you'll find...

Exhibitionism and the uncovering of hidden desires.

A priest who succumbs to the beauty of a parishioner, helping her find forgiveness in the crack of a flogger.

A werewolf subordinate who flips the script on her vampire boss, showing her who's truly in charge.

And more...

This collection of stories, featuring both MF and WLW pairings, is an ode to lust, need, and romance. Stories Included (11 previously published and 3 brand new):

• Adagio
• Temptation Follows
• Halcyon
• In Reverse
• Scarlet Rose
• Switch
• Turning Tables
• What's A Girl To Do?
• His Toy
• What You Need
• Hers
• Watching You
• Rendezvous
• Room 414

• Language: English
• Publisher: Torrance Sené
• Release date: Apr 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215876657

Torrance Sené

Torrance Sené, a demisexual bisexual, resides in the southeast US and often dreams of living on the beach. When not writing, she can usually be found feeding her addictions to tea, planners, K-pop, and books. She also writes under the pen name Cassie Donoghue. You can find her work online and in anthologies published by Cleis Press, HarperCollins UK, and more.

Book preview

Carnal

Erotic Stories & Flash Fiction

Torrance Sené

Wolfsparrow Publishing

Copyright © 2023 by Torrance Sené

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

Story Notes

1. Adagio

2. Temptation Follows

3. Halcyon

4. In Reverse

5. Scarlet Rose

6. Switch

7. Turning Tables

8. What's A Girl To Do?

9. His Toy

10. What You Need

11. Hers

12. Watching You

13. Rendezvous

14. Room 414

Acknowledgments

About Torrance

Story Notes

Here are the pairings, content notes, and original publication dates for each story.

Adagio: man/woman pairing, music professor, features spanking. Originally published in Best Erotic Romance 2013 anthology (Cleis Press, 2013).

Temptation Follows: man/woman pairing, priest/parishioner forbidden relationship, heavily features religious blasphemy and BDSM elements. Originally published in Sacred & Profane: Priest Erotic Romance anthology (Sexy Little Pages, 2017).

Halcyon: wlw pairing, both bi leads, anxiety rep, little bit of Mommy kink, age and breastfeeding play, femdom. New, never-before-published (2022)!

In Reverse: man/woman pairing, sports romance w/race car driver, best friend's little sister trope. Originally published in Love of the Game: Sports Stories to Make You Sweat (Sexy Little Pages, 2016).

Scarlet Rose: woman/woman/man pairing, polyam, bear shifter monster erotica, based on the fairytale of Snow White and Rose Red. Originally published on Prolific Works as a mailing list freebie (2016).

Switch: man/woman pairing, a submissive woman's first taste of femdom. Originally published on Wattpad (2018).

Turning Tables: wlw pairing, both bi leads, werewolf/vampire dynamic. Originally published in Exchange of Power: A MM/FF Anthology (Torquere Press, 2015).

What's a Girl to Do?: man/woman pairing, food play, rimming. Originally published on the Sunsette & Rosy erotica/women's health apps (2018).

His Toy: man/woman pairing, older woman, exhibitionism/vouyerism. Originally published on Amazon (2016), then used briefly as a mailing list freebie.

What You Need: wlw pairing, bi/lesbian leads, anxiety rep. Originally published in Only One Bed: A Steamy Romance Anthology, Vol 1 (Violet Gaze Press, 2020).

Hers: wlw pairing, both bi leads, Domme/sub dynamic. Originally published on the Love Slave erotica website (2015).

Watching You: man/woman pairing, long-distance relationship, cybersex. Originally published on the Love Slave erotica website (2015).

Rendezvous: wlw pairing, both bi leads, spy ladies reconnecting. New, never-before-published (2023)!

Room 414: man/woman pairing, co-workers with secret relationship, Domme/sub dynamic. New, never-before-published (2023)!

Adagio

Nothing turns me on more than watching Ben play the violin. There is something so wholly sensual about his performance, in the way he loses himself, drowning in the sea of his senses. His long, lithe fingers moving in quick succession, meeting the strings with the precision necessary to produce a clear, sonorous note. His intensity and passion. His wildness. Everything about him combining to pluck every single one of my strings.

So imagine my delight to hear Bach's Concerto No. 2 in E Major wafting through our apartment when I arrived home. Work had been positively horrid with the catering preparations for an upcoming conference still days behind schedule. My day had consisted of bickering employees, catty clients and a migraine the size of Russia. Tonight I wanted—no I needed—nothing more than to have Ben fuck me senseless.

I dropped my purse and planner on the kitchen island and ignored the stack of mail and the flashing answering machine. It could all wait until tomorrow. Instead, like a moth to a flame, I walked down the hallway where I found the door of Ben's study left slightly ajar. I perched myself against the jamb, watching the abandoned scene before me.

Sweat dampened Ben's brow, causing his wavy reddish-brown hair to curl at the edges. His eyes were closed, completely enraptured in the melody he called forth. The sleeves of his expensive pin-stripe shirt were rolled up, the intensity of his playing pulling the buttons taut over his broad torso.

God, he looked amazing. And he was mine.

Concentration was splashed across his face. Every part of him focused so intently on dominating the filaments, bending them to his will; of being a channel for an ancient German master. At that moment, like every moment he spent in this rapture, I grew jealous of those strings. Envious of the way he so delicately but sternly commanded them. How he applied just the right amount of pressure, held precisely the right strand along the fingerboard, until from it he had wrenched a wailing cry. As if on cue, he brought the bow slowly across the bridge, drawing out the final melancholy note.

He opened his eyes, not at all surprised to find me there. A smile drew across his mouth as he lowered the violin from his shoulder and held it at his side. I'm beginning to think you've developed a bit of a fetish.

I smiled back, leaving the door jamb behind and descending further into his sanctuary. I walked past piles of papers that needed grading, books marked with various colored post-its, and scores of scribbled compositions—visual displays of his brilliant mind that served only to make me hotter, wetter, more frustrated—until I stood before him.

"I would call it more of a longing, a need."

My hand reached out; my index finger pulling back at first as if the strings were electrified. Perhaps they were and that's what lured me to them. Perhaps Ben was a passage for some mad science I could never hope to understand. My finger curved ever so slightly around the string, and plucked. A loud, deep note broke the silence; a shiver shuddered through my core. My eyelids drooped as I let the thrum wash over me.

Ben's voice came next: a lilting baritone timbre that would bring angels careening from the sky. This longing you speak of, might I prove to be of assistance?

I said nothing; the question was partially rhetorical anyway. I simply followed the neck of the violin bringing my hand up passed the scroll and along his arm until it rested on his expansive chest. The first two buttons of his shirt were unfastened, I noticed, revealing the perfect place for my lips. I stood on my tip-toes and brought my mouth down on his collarbone, tasting his saltiness. My hands began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. A whisper of a sigh escaped his throat as I licked and kissed his Adam's apple.

He gave the violin over to gravity for safekeeping then as his hands found way to my hair, removing the clip and freeing my soft curls and releasing a waft of gardenia. He gently took a handful of hair and pulled my head backwards so I faced up at him.

Do you need to be plucked, darling? he asked.

My knees nearly buckled as a flood of warmth spread through me.

Yes.

His right hand unzipped the back of my black dress; the other hand still tangled within my hair. His gray-blue eyes never left mine. Yes, what?

Yes, please.

His eyes flashed with cheek and I shivered when his fingers trailed fire down my neck and spine. The warm flesh of his hand smoothing over my lower back, pushing me toward him. He took my mouth and I could taste the fruity trace of Merlot lingering on his breath as my tongue explored his. As my hands busied themselves with his shirt, a tiny mewl escaped my lips.

His composition had begun.

I pulled his shirt from his trousers but his hands on mine stopped me. I swallowed hard when I saw the intense look on his face. My entire body hummed with anticipation as he knelt before me. His fingers—those long, slender digits which just moments before stirred a keening from lifeless strings—slid up my stockings, tracing the seam up the back of them and hiking up my dress until his hands rested on my ass. I see you're wearing my favorite stockings. The corner of my mouth went up in a smirk as his hot mouth kissed the area just above my mons. His middle finger rubbed along my damp panties, tracing my slit.

I knew he could smell my arousal. How could he not when just the touch of his full lips and finger threatened to throw me over a precipice? But this was his symphony and I merely the instrument on which he composed. Far be it for me to fill in notes where he does not write them. My job consisted of singing only when he coaxed them from me.

Turning me around, he continued trailing kisses along my thighs and ass, lifting my dress further and squeezing the soft round flesh he found there. My eyes remained closed. I was becoming lost in the moment and trying especially hard not to lose complete control and come—not before he wanted me to. Ben stood. His hands grabbed the opened sides of my zipper and pushed the sleeves down exposing my shoulders. I found the rough touch of his stubble delicious as he nibbled along my nape. With one final shove the black fabric pooled in an inky stain around my high-heeled feet, leaving me in only black lingerie and stockings.

Kneel on the sofa, he conducted, motioning to the couch in front of us.

The leather of the chaise lounge creaked loudly as I did what Ben directed. My mind reeled with possibilities as I propped myself up on the back of the sofa. All our past sessions flooded my thoughts. What would it be this time? How would he make me come? But the thing was I had absolutely no idea what he had planned. Like a true composer, no group of notes were ever in the same measure twice; no sinfonia ever the same. This trust was how I knew I loved him, and he loved me.

I longed to look over my shoulder and at him, but I have heard said that artistry is best left to its own devices so I kept my head straight. I saw his shadow approaching seconds before I felt his fingertips trail along the top of my thong panties.

I've brought you a surprise, he announced.

Chills washed over me. Have you now?

Do you trust me? he asked.

With all my heart.

I heard a faint shoosh in the air and then something thin and hard like wood came down across my ass. I yelped in pain, clutching the back of the sofa as the line of red hot agony spread a mixture of pleasure and pain through my core. My scent intensified. The pain hurt like nothing I had felt before, but it was also surprisingly arousing being at his mercy. So vulnerable.

His hand smoothed over the line and made its way to my pussy. A solitary slender finger found my opening and slid in. I clenched around it.

You liked that, didn't you?

I shook my head yes and spread my legs farther apart, welcoming him further. He slipped a second finger into me and curved them just right.

Do you want another?

Please.

He removed his fingers and brought the thin wood across my cherry red ass again. I cried out, a tear of painful pleasure left my eye.

You know it's you whom I think of when I play. Don't you? He pushed my panties down to my knees. The air conditioned air teasing my exposed pussy. You, Imogen, are my muse.

I felt something cold and hard slide between my labia and back out again. On your body alone, I could write a thousand symphonies, he continued. When I realized what he was holding, I nearly came. The violin bow. That same wooden implement with which he lures me had just left its mark upon my tender ass.

Shall I compose upon you tonight? he asked.

Again he slid it between my slick lips only this time he nudged my clit, and I let out another whimpering note but this time it was sharper.

Yes! I cried.

He removed the bow from between my labia and pulled me back against his firm and enveloping form. His chest was slightly damp, and my nostrils filled with a heady mixture of his cologne and my spiciness. My head lay back against him