Snippets Part Two: Seven Mortal Sins
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
A series of short vignettes. Content will vary from vignette to vignette. Some
readers may find particular stories to be disturbing or offensive.
Wrath
Sloth
Pride
Lust
Greed
Gluttony
Envy
Wrath
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
"What are you doing?" he laughed.
Her face close to his, long blond hair draped across his head and shoulders like
a veil. She giggled as she straddled his chest, holding his wrists.
"You'll see," she whispered, hot and sultry, "and it's going to be fun."
A tiny hand slipped beneath a pillow and withdrew a silk scarf. Knotted it
around his wrist and to the bedpost. He roared with mirth, fighting back like a
playful bear. She pressed down on his chest, her hot wet feminine core hard
against his sternum, naked legs straddling his ribs.
"Lie still slave, or I'll punish you," she teased as she tied his other wrist.
Satisfied he was secure, she kissed him. Her tongue slipping across his palate,
his teeth, his lips. He moaned as she nipped at his nipple. She turned around to
face his feet. Kneeling forward, she commenced tying off his ankles to the
footboard.
Straining, he leaned forward, trying to reach her exposed pussy.
"There!" she said. She rolled off him and stood by the night table.
"Now what?" he asked, feigning fear. She smiled back.
"I'm going to place a condom on your cock, then give you a blow job until you
come."
"Mmmmm, sounds like just a horrible torture."
She showed her teeth. "Oh it will be, I promise you."
She climbed back on the bed. Straddled his chest. Unrolled a condom. And ...
Later, he was still spread-eagled on the bed. The condom, filled with his cum,
slopped around his now shriveled cock. She was in the bathroom, brushing her
hair.
"You know, I could sure use some wine."
She stood in the doorway.
"Shut up." She picked something off the floor near the bed. Rubbed it against
her private parts, then across his. Stuffed it into his mouth. "My panties
should keep you quiet."
He tried to speak, but the wadded cloth rendered him unintelligible.
"Wine. Good idea." She said. Padded out of the room, returning with a bottle and
two glasses. She poured some clear liquid into each glass, took a sip from one.
Red lipstick clung to the rim. Sipped from the other, and then dribbled the
liquid across his face.
She dressed, blew him a kiss, and headed for the bedroom door. Turned. Went into
the bathroom, came out with strands of hair in her fingers.
"You know, you should have told me you were married." She scattered the hairs
across his naked form. "I hope she's a blonde." Blew him another kiss. And
vanished.
He strained against his bonds, desperate for release, howling his anger. The
fucking scarves were just too well knotted and too fucking strong. The room
stunk of wine, stale perfume and stale sex.
Fifteen minutes passed. The sound of a door opening.
"Honey?" came a woman's voice. It reeked of cheer. "I'm home..."
Sloth
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
She was licking his face.
Making cute little grunting whining noises, like a baby seal asking for her
mother's teat.
He opened one eye.
Groaned.
His pet was lying on her side, her head against the pillow next to his. Red hair
splayed out in every direction of the compass. The harness gag and O ring kept
her mouth open, The little pink tongue flicked in an effort to lick him again.
"Ah-uh? Eee?"
He had been tired when he arrived home from work. A twelve-hour shift in the
plant, printing presses roaring and clacking, monstrous rolls of paper whirring,
the smell of ink and paper and dust and god knows. A couple of beers with the
guys when the long shift finally ended, and then home.
He was tired. She was bored. Wanted to go out. Wanted to par-tay.
Fuck her.
He tied her up, left her on the bathroom floor. Had a shower, threw her on the
bed, climbed in, and went to sleep.
She lay on her side, tied wrists to ankles, a belt around her upper arms and
chest, the gag.
She wiggled like a worm, a caterpillar, trying to get him to ... to what?
Release her? Screw her?
His erection was hard. Very strong. He was ready.
He ignored it.
Rolled over, on his side.
His back to her.
And closed his eyes.
Pride
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
It was the stuff of dreams. An entire species, with bipedal females whose
oestral cycle placed them in a state of heat that was unmatched anywhere man had
previously visited. The stories of the sexual appetites of the "catwomen of
Cauldor" were well known throughout the Corps. And when in heat, their bodies
exuded a powerful aphrodisiac, a scent that stimulated and kept a man aroused
much longer than he ever thought possible.
Rick was in his glory. He had oft bragged to his fellow Corpsman about his
sexual prowess, and supported his claims in the shower room. He made sure all
his lesser endowed comrades knew about his massive cock. It was his pride and
joy.
And now these three absolutely magnificent catwomen knew about it too. He had
encountered them in the bar frequented by spacers and natives alike. He loved
their feline grace, the soft golden downy fur that covered their sleek, muscular
bodies, their stunning long manes. Their leader, the one called Xearra, had
cozied up to him, literally purring as she stroked his arm, his chest. When her
prehensile tail groped his groin, her golden almond shaped eyes widened in
surprise and delight. He knew he was better equipped than most men - hell, his
bedpost had the notches to prove it, he liked to boast - but Xearra was so
impressed, she called over to her friends.
And now here he was, comfortably ensconced on a set of huge pillows, naked as
the day he was born, with three incredibly horny females. Their scent was
overpowering. He touched his cock. It felt different, bigger, stronger, more
powerful than ever. Like a steel girder, round and thick as a Greek column.
The tabbies were all around him, all over him, licking, stroking, kissing,
touching, smelling, probing. They purred and moaned, making noises he had never
heard, each sound pulsating through to his very essence, building him up in his
mind to be a powerful figure, a giant, a god ...
"mmm, I bet you've never seen a cock as big as mine", he said as Xearra slowly
slid down his belly to his crotch.
"Oh yesss," she mewed. "I , we, look forward to enjoying it."
He reached to stroke her feline head.
One of the catwomen straddled his chest. Her musk so powerful, he almost slipped
into unconsciousness. She grabbed his wrists and pinned him to the bed. She was
unbelievably strong - he couldn't move an inch.
A leonine face came close to his, rough tongue licking, tasting. A sharp pain
in his ear. He saw a trickle of blood on her lips - did she bite him?
"Ssstrange one," she hissed. "You taste .... Exotic. You will be a rare treat
for us."
Xearra growled. Her two companions hissed in response, moving back but keeping
Rick pinned down. He raised his head.
"Stranger," Xearra said, her voice dripping with lust. "Our cubs will be strong,
thanks to you. "
"But, but, our races cannot interbreed!" Rick stammered.
Xearra laughed, her wicked sharp teeth gleaming. "We do not want your seed, you
stupid pathetic creature! Our males already provided that!"
Her head dived into his crotch.
Rick screamed as unbelievable pain ravaged his body.
Xearra's head rose, a bloodied mess of man flesh dangling from her mouth.
"We have merely worked up an appetite."
Lust
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
His teeth clenched tight in a rictus mask. He was close, oh so close! He could
feel all those little sperms, their tails wiggling as they gathered, ready to
race through his swollen cock.
He watched her every day in class. Saw her at the local store where she worked.
Licked his lips when she wore that skimpy little cheerleader's outfit - he knew
she did it just for him, and he smiled.
Now, the luscious pussy cunt bitch was his.
She was tight, exquisitely tight, her every vaginal muscle contraction acting
like a hot wet vise, squeezing his throbbing shaft in a lover's grip. Of course,
the way she was tied made sure of it.
He started with a strappado - elbows and wrists and thighs and knees and ankles
all cinched by leather straps, her arms hoisted up so high they were parallel to
her legs. He had fucked her mouth first, the ring gag making sure he had plenty
of lubrication when he moved to take her up the ass.
And such a sweet, sweet ass! He shuddered at the thought of it. Glorious round
mounds of muscle and flesh stretched taut as possible by the strenuous
uncomfortable strappado slamming against his hips as he thrust and buried
himself to the hilt ...
But that wasn't enough. Not for him, not this time.
He strung her up, wrists to ankles, ponytail to wrists, a tight ball hoisted in
the air, at just the right height for his waiting man meat. She squealed and
screamed in fear and delight as he pushed his purple headed shaft against her
bright coral pussy lips, and with a single, massive push, plunged so hard and so
deep inside her, he could swear his cock touched her uvula ... He knew she
wanted Him, wanted all of Him, in every and any way He could imagine.
"Fuck you, you bitch!" he growled, his teeth rammed tight against each other,
his lips curled back in a snarl of beastly pleasure as his seed shot, rocketed,
roared from the one eyed love shaft in an explosion of lust ...
The pounding of jungle drums, his heart thundering as he shot his seed.
The pounding of a fist against wood.
. "Jason, come on! You've been in there for-ever!" his little sister yowled from
the other side of the closed bathroom door.
Greed
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
Thumpthumpthumpthump!
Heartbeat to pace a Formula One car.
Forehead, chest, belly, sweaty slick as a rain soaked Grand Prix course.
Back muscles, leg muscles, stretched to their limits, and beyond.
Her hand clutching his cock like the knob on a gearshift.
They had met last night at the Fetish Ball. It was lust at first sight for him.
She was medium height, lean, sleek and muscular as a lioness, face crowned by a
mane of red hair. Blood red nails, small sharp white teeth, cat's eyes that
pierced through to his crotch. She was a captive lioness, spread-eagled in a
frame, sweat and passion oozing from her nakedness as she growled and panted. He
had taken up a flogger, red stripes morphing the lioness into a tiger, causing
her to roar out her lust and defiance and heat.
Later, in the hotel room, she had shown him things he had only read about, taken
his body in ways he had never dreamed. Sucked every drop of semen from his cock,
slurped his seed from him, drawn it into her body like a lioness devouring a
gazelle.
The female human has seven orifices, he thought, and he was sure he had cum in
at least five.
No wonder she had been tied into that whipping frame.
He turned his head toward the night table. Reached for the wine glass with his
right hand.
Gasped as she tried to shift gears with his now exhausted cock.
"More," she growled, her voice husky with too much drink, too much sex. "I want
more."
His right hand around the wine glass.
Her right hand in his genitals.
"More."
He turned his head toward hers, seeking to plant a kiss that would stall.
She turned her face to the man lying next to her.
His cock began to rise as she stroked and squeezed.
Michael watched, mouth full of wine, as the lioness mounted the other man in the
bed.
Gluttony
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
Her blood is red.
Pick an adjective: cranberry red, crimson, scarlet, ruby, it all comes down to
this:
Blood red.
Her torso has been cut and hacked and cut some more. Brutal. Vicious. Butchery.
He did not care about that, any of that. Her pain, her suffering.
Poof.
No matter to him.
It is only his pleasure that interests him.
His pleasure.
As far as he was concerned, she was just meat.
He smiled.
He could smell her flesh, and it excited him.
If he poked her, her muscle would rebound, and come back to its original shape.
That excited him - it meant she was fresh.
Fresh meat.
Juices dripping from the heat that bathed her, the fire built from his desire,
his pleasure that roasted her with its power and majesty.
She had appeared one day, big liquid brown eyes that you could swim in,
beautiful slender legs, big nipples, and innocent - oh so very innocent,
unsuspecting as a cow in a slaughterhouse.
Then it happened to her. Her limbs were bound, she was stripped, and
The men ...
They attacked her, savagely, without mercy. Causing her to cry out in terror and
fear and pain until suddenly, with a single stroke, an instance in time so fast
she could not see it coming, her pitiful existence ended.
"How's your steak, honey?" his wife asked.
He looked down at the piece of rare, bloody meat that minutes earlier had been
on his barbecue and days, weeks earlier had been a living creature.
"Delicious," he said.
Envy
By Fox
Copyright 2003, all rights reserved. Reproduction in any form strictly
prohibited without written permission of the author - writerfox@fastmail.ca
... Britney's eyes went wide, round as saucers, as Justin unzipped.
'Oh baby baby baby baby!" she exclaimed, realizing that Justin was not wearing a
codpiece after all. She clapped her hands in girlish glee as his shaft of love
sprang free. A full twelve inches of throbbing passion loomed before her ripe
red lips.
Britney almost swooned with delight.
"Oh Justin, now I understand why your friends call you "Timber Leg", she
muttered as she leaned forward, her pretty pink tongue flicking the massive
purple head ...
"Fuck me," I said as I scrolled down to the final moments of the story. "I write
better than this shit."
I clicked back to my own story. 4,319 hits. One and a half stars.
The Britney-Justin piece of crap. 13,253 hits. Four stars.
"Fuck me," I muttered.
I clicked on "Write a Review" ...
