Wicked Wednesday: “No, No. You first.” Edition.



NSFW, folks. Really not safe.

Well, for those of you keeping track, I do believe you were promised TWO snippets to make up for missing last week. I was in the midst of finishing a book, plus doing final edits. For those of you that don’t write, imagine those scenes in movies where there are hundreds of people on the New York Stock Exchange floor. People are shouting at you and waving pieces of paper at you. There’s so much going on that you’re not really paying great attention to any of it. That.. was my last week

This week is shaping up much better. One book is being released. An anthology story was accepted by a new publisher. Waiting to hear back on the story I finished last week from another publisher. I’m chugging away on a new manuscript for a novella series. LIFE IS GOOD.

And without any further rambling, Taken:

When Tansy had mentioned the auction, despite her otherwise vanilla sex life, Charlotte had been intrigued. Maybe she had even agreed to it because of her vanilla sex life. Now, as she stood, tied to the St. Andrews cross, she was beginning to regret that decision.

She, more than anyone, was surprised by the bidding frenzy. When a rough, sexy voice had called out the sum of $15,000, the entire crowd had gone silent. She hadn’t been able to see the faces of the men and women that were bidding on her. She supposed that must have been by design, though. She’d heard the murmurs through the crowd though. Damian Wallace had won her for the night.

More shocking, was that Damian had sent an envoy backstage to go over what would come next. The kind, older gentleman went over soft limits, hard limits, safe words, and confidentiality. A contract signed by Damian Wallace promised to abide by these things. In return, he agreed not to record, photograph or otherwise exploit his position of power to cause her undue stress.

That had seemed more than acceptable at the time. Now, however, bound and unable to move, she worried. Would that be enough?

When she’d entered the dungeon, she’d been summarily ordered to strip. He’d nodded, still not touching her and he surveyed her body. His gaze had lingered at her pussy. “Very good, Charlotte. You followed my instructions.”

She flushed. He’d scheduled services for her at a spa in town. They had included a massage, manicure, pedicure, and full wax. The rest had been nice, but the wax had hurt. It was yet another reason why she was glad she had listed wax play as a hard limit.

“I trust you followed the rest of my instructions as well?”

She had nodded and said, “Yes, sir.”

“That was very pretty but you need not call me sir. I haven’t earned that title yet. You may call me Damian.”

Dutifully, she had said, “Yes, Damian.”

Touching her for the first time, he’d stroked his fingertips down her jawline and asked, “And how was that?’

“Frustrating,” she had blurted out. He’d ordered her to masturbate for thirty minutes each day in the three days prior to her coming to his home. The catch, of course, is that she wasn’t allowed to come. “There was something that made it even more exciting. Knowing that I wasn’t allowed to come.”

“And you followed those orders to the tee, did you?”


“Very good,” he praised. “Good girls get rewarded. Bad girls get punished. The real secret is… Often the punishment and reward are the same thing.”

As he’d spoken that last sentence, his fingers had given both nipples a sharp pinch that had sent sensation coursing through her veins.

She’d cried out more in shock than pain.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “You’ll do nicely.”

After that they’d delved into a lengthy conversation about safe words.

Now, she was strapped to this huge cross and she waited. His back was turned to her, so she took a moment to admire his lean form. He wore a pair of worn jeans and a snug t-shirt. His inky black hair was closely cropped, and impeccably styled.

Charlotte had no idea why this rich, gorgeous man had chosen her, but she was determined to enjoy herself.

Suddenly he turned around, flogger in hand. “Ever had one of these used on you?”

She shook her head and said, “No.”

That hadn’t been the answer he’d been expecting apparently because he asked, “It’s not often you find the inexperienced at a slave auction. Why did you participate?”

“I was tired of having half ass orgasms from men who didn’t particularly care if I got off. After a certain point, having to draw a road map got tedious. I wanted someone who would focus on my pleasure as much as I focused on theirs.”

He set the flogger down, considered her for a moment and then picked up a long strip of cloth. As he approached her, he said, “Blindfold.”

Charlotte was surprised to see that it was sheer lace. It didn’t block her view entirely so much as it obscured it. She could still see basic shapes but nothing really discernible.

She immediately felt his fingers trail down her soft belly. He dipped his finger between her thighs and said, “Well, it looks like someone has a very wet pussy. I think Charlotte likes to be tied up.”

When she didn’t speak, he pressed three fingers into her aching pussy and fucked her with them. Almost conversationally he asked, “Don’t you, Charlotte? Answer me.”

Sensation ripped through her. She had been needy and on edge for days now. “Yes, Damian,” she moaned. “I like like being tied up.”

Just as her orgasm threatened to crest, he slid his fingers out of her and said, “Not yet,  pet. You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

With a chuckle, he moved away from her. Even through the blindfold, she could clearly see that he licked  his fingers clean. She gave an involuntary moan at the sight.

He picked up something from the table. If she had to guess, it was probably the flogger from the shape of it. He began tracing the soft strips across her breasts and belly. The light dragging against her skin was almost soothing. Her eyes drifted closed as she relaxed.

Without warning the flogger left her skin briefly, then landed against her belly with a thud. She let out an involuntary gasp. It was more out of shock, than any real pain. It felt rather like a hand with thousands of tiny fingers stroking across her skin.

He stepped back, then began to work the flogger across her breasts and stomach. Eventually the sensations began to compound. She felt a slight heat, then eventually a dull pain. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

After one particularly hard slap of the flogger against her tender breasts, he stopped. She saw him survey his work. It was hard to tell his facial expression due to the lace. Was he pleased? She wished she knew what he was thinking.

“I think,” he murmured, “that you could use a little bit of decoration.” Having said that, he reached into his pocket and added, “Nipple clamps.”

“Uhm,” Charlotte interrupted. “I don’t know if I can-”

“You’ve not been given permission to speak, Charlotte. You can either safe word or you can accept what I think you need. Those are the two options. Which will it be?”

Charlotte considered and then murmured, “Go on, please.”

He proceeded to stroke his fingers over her tight little nipples, then suck on them. Once they were hard and she was all but panting again, he brought a tweezer-like clamp up and attached it to her nipple.

She couldn’t help but wince when he adjusted it. By the time he got both nipples clamped and then gave a light tug on the chain that attached them, she was quite certain that she not only could handle the clamps but that she enjoyed them very much. Each twitch and swing of the chain shot sensations of hot, white pleasure straight to her clit.

“Well,” he asked, smugly.

“You were right,” she admitted softly.

His fingers moved between her thighs, stroking over her clit gently. Unable to stop herself, Charlotte let out a sob of need. She had never needed to come so badly in her entire life.

“You may not come,” he cautioned, working his fingers against the small bundle of nerves.

“Please,” she begged, gasping for air. “I can’t… I can’t. Let me come please, Damien.”

“Not yet. Soon, though,” he said, removing his hand from between her thighs.

She groaned, unsatisfied but wisely said nothing more.

He moved back to the table near the wall and picked up another two items. One of them was so small she couldn’t see it, but the other looked like a stick.

When he approached again, his hand drifted back between her thighs. He skipped over her soaked pussy entirely and gently pressed his fingers against the tight rosette. “Have you been taken here before, Charlotte?”

“No,” she whispered.

“I thought not. That’s a shame. I was looking forward to burying myself in your tight little asshole. This will have to suffice.”

She felt one slippery finger breach the tight ring of muscle and then moaned at the steady slide of his finger inside her. He continued to drag his finger slowly along all of the newly awakened nerve endings until she panted desperately.

That was when she felt something plastic replace his finger. Slowly, the item that was slightly larger than his finger began to press inside of her. Her body automatically fought the intrusion.

“Relax for me. It’s only a plug. It’s only a little bigger than my finger. You seemed to enjoy that,” he soothed.

As she felt the plug press against her again, she concentrated on keeping herself relaxed. A moment later, it slid inside her with an almost lewd pop followed by the snap of plastic. He had been wearing a glove, she realized.

She felt him press against the plug again briefly, and then her body stiffened as the low hum of vibrations started in her ass. “Oh god,” she exclaimed.

His fingers slid back into her pussy and pressed against the plug through the thin wall. “Soon,” he said.

Her breathing stuttered when she felt the press of something foreign against her clit. She heard a low click and then whatever he was pressing against her clit began to vibrate violently. She shifted against it, trying desperately to hold back her orgasm.

“Please,” she begged. “Pleaseeee. I need to come. Please let me come.”

“Come for me. As many times as you can,” he commanded.

She was nearly blinded with the force of the orgasm that tore through her. Her pussy convulsed over and over as she writhed against his hand. The force of her body shaking sent the chain connecting her clamped nipples rocking against her. It only heightened the sensation.

She lost track of how many orgasms that he drew from her. She only knew that there was no way she’d ever, ever be able to go back to vanilla sex again. By the time he unclamped her nipples, removed her blindfold, took her down off the cross and took the plug out of her ass, she felt like melted wax.

Charlotte was lax against him as he carried her over to a large overstuffed sofa. Slumped against him, in his lap, she sighed. More sated than she had ever been, it took her several minuts to get her wits about her. She became incrementally aware of his very aroused cock pressing against the small of her back.

She finally asked, “What about you?”

“Believe me,” he said, grinning. “We’ll get to that.”


And as promised, here’s the second one. Teacher’s Pet:

Paige Marcus blinked at her friend Stephanie and said, “What? Sorry. I’m totally spaced out.”

“You need to go talk to that guy, Paige. He’s totally hot and he’s been looking over at you for the last five minutes.”

“Which table,” she asked, not turning her eyes from Stephanie’s face.

“Against the wall on the left. You can’t miss him. He looks like he’s in his late thirties, maybe but I’d make the exception. He’s gorgeous.”

Slowly, she shifted her eyes and then blinked. “Oh jesus, Steph. That’s my old english teacher from college.”

“Professor Hottie!”

“Yes, jesus. Did you have to freaking yell that?”

“We’re in a bar,” Stephanie bitched. “Settle down.. and Oh. He’s headed this way. Gonna run to the ladies!”

“Paige Marcus. I thought that was you!”

“Professor Samuels,” she said, automatically.

“I’m pretty sure you’re no longer a student. You can call me Tyler,” he said, with that same mischievous smile that had always had her panties near melting in class. Without waiting for the invitation, he slid into the vacated seat next to her.

“Well, technically, I am. Just not at Gibson, anymore. I’m studying to get my law degree,” she answered, grinning.

“Impressive. I suspected you’d move on to great things. Your papers were always impeccable. You don’t get a lot of that in English 1.”

“I was working to pay for school. If I’m buying it, no sense in wasting it by being half assed.”

He laughed and agreed, “Good point.”

“So, uh. This doesn’t exactly seem like your kind of place,” she said carefully.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just call me old. I will admit that the drummer is my little brother, though. Otherwise, this wouldn’t have been my venue of choice. And are you even old enough to be in here?”

“Fake ID,” she lied smoothly. At his look of consternation, she said, “Simmer down, Professor. I’m twenty six. I started college a little late.”

They continued to talk until the band started cueing up. He gestured toward the front of the bar near the stage and asked, “Come listen with me? I might need the support, I’m afraid.”

A smile tugging at her lips, she grabbed her drink and then got up. She was surprised when his hand rested on the small of her back. Saying nothing, she allowed him to lead her up front. He raised his hand in salute to the drummer who seemed to be scanning the crowd. He was kind of hot in a boyish way. It seemed that good looks ran in the family.

The area in front of the stage was already beginning to get crowded, so it was no surprise when someone shoved into her and he reached out to steady her. What was a surprise however, is when the arms that had steadied her by her waist slid around her body. He pulled her back against him.

She felt the brush of his hands against her partially bare midriff. Holy shit. Professor Hottie was totally coming on to her. After a moment of shock, she relaxed back against his chest and took a sip of her drink.

When he leaned down, she immediately missed the warmth at her back. His voice rough, he asked, “How many of those have you had tonight, Paige?”

“Two,” she answered. “Why?”

His lips brushed her ear as he uttered the phrase that would likely live in her sexual fantasies for some time to come. “When I take you to bed, I’d very much like you to be sober enough to remember it.”

Her breath caught in her chest, she managed to turn her head to look at him. “Oh. Is that what we’re doing?”

He arched an eyebrow and admitted, “I watched you in those barely there little sundresses in my class for an entire semester. I couldn’t do anything then, but I can now. If I’ve misread the situation, you can tell me to fuck off, but I certainly hope we end the night in bed together.”

“I had the biggest crush on you,” Paige confessed. “You haven’t misread anything.”

On a groan, with a muttered, “Thank Christ,” he lowered his mouth to hers. After giving her a brief, but searing kiss, he released her. His eyes held so much sensual promise that she almost shivered with it.

When he refocused his attention back on the stage, she turned her head back around. He immediately dipped his head down and rubbed his mouth against the side of her neck. She tried desperately to stop herself from melting right there on the dance floor.

By the end of the second song, she was so wet and needy that she was sure the entire bar could tell. Subtly, he slid the large hobo bag off her shoulder. Confused she held it in front of her. When his hand slid to the button on her jeans, her heart began to pound. Could she let him do that here?

As if he read her hesitation, he said, “Let me touch you, Paige.”

She held the bag firm as he slid the tab of her zipper down.

His fingers brushed over her mound and over the soaked crotch of her panties. He groaned, “Oh, Christ. Paige. You’re so wet.”

Two fingers worked their way under the edge of her panties. Gently, he rubbed them against her slit until she whimpered with need. Only then did he slip between her soaked folds and rub his fingertips against her aching clit.

As the band continued to play, he rubbed slow, tight circles against her. Whenever the band changed tempo, he would speed up and slow down with them. Even with the subtle teasing strokes of his fingers, she was on the edge almost immediately.

He leaned down and said, “When this god awful show is done I’m going to take you home and fuck you properly. I intend to make you come so many times that your voice goes hoarse from it.”

“Oh,” she moaned. “Tyler.”

“That’s right, Paige. Be a good girl and come for me now.”

When he sank his teeth into the tender bit of skin between her neck and shoulder, she was a goner. She shuddered against him, biting back a moan. If he could manage this standing up in a bar, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d live until morning.









About Michelle Roth

Michelle Roth is a novelist from the Great White North (Toronto, ON). When she’s not disappearing into foreign lands, or making two perfect strangers that she invented fall in love, she’s probably curled up somewhere with a glass of wine and a good book. In her spare time she is typically hanging out with her awesome boyfriend and their two equally awesome cats. She likes taking road trips to nowhere in particular, cooking elaborate meals then making other people do the dishes, and being nerdy on the internet. Her books are currently available on http://www.bookstrand.com/michelle-roth
This entry was posted in Author, books, erotic romance, Wicked Wednesday, writer, writing and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Wicked Wednesday: “No, No. You first.” Edition.

  1. siannaj says:

    Oooh both are awesome!


What are your thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s