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Hot and Cold #sponsored

“I want to play tonight.”

I could have hidden the pout in my voice, the verbal stamp of my foot. But I didn’t. It had been too long. Sure he has needs, but so do I. And they were not being met. At least not right now.

“What do you have in mind, girl?”

Ugh, of course he would ask. Knowing I wouldn’t have a clue. All I knew is that my body ached, my skin tingled, and I had a hole (several, actually) that desperately needed to be filled.

The audible pout was still there. “I dunno. You’re the Daddy! That’s your job.”

He chuckled. That is never a sound you want to hear – or maybe it is. The sound sent a delicious shiver up my spine. No doubt in my mind – he was going to remove the pout.

In his way, he let me go about my day, not really thinking about later. He could have. He could’ve fucked my mind up one way and down another, sending me into a headspin of “What if” and “Would he” and “Can I take it” but he let the matter drop. I did, too. Sort of.

Maybe it’ll be a spanking. Oh a good over the knee kind. Mmmm, I love those.

Or it could be the hitachi. Do I have towels to put down?

Of course, I didn’t really let it drop, but I know better than to ask. I always find out eventually.

When we got ready for bed, he still didn’t say anything. What’s going on? Did he forget? Should I mention it?!

On the bed, on my knees, back arched, the cool air from the fan kissing dark, soft, damp places on my body, I waited. Would it be the typical few smacks and then off to bed? That would be disappointing. Would he pull out the wand? That would be great! What would he do?

I heard him rummaging in the kitchen. Wait? What is he doing? I called out to him.

“Do not move, girl.” In the tone. You know the one. He’s plotting…but what?!

My mind was turning over as he came in to the bedroom. The nightstand drawer opened. Clink. Clunk. Thud. And then it shut.

Squirt. Squirt. I know that sound. That’s lube. But no cold liquid landed on my skin.

What –?

“Ohhhhhh!” Cold fingers ran down my hip and the back of my thigh. “Cooooooooold!”

He laughed. “I know. Just getting you prepped.”

Prepped? For what?

Aaaaahhhhh! Something cold and hard touched my cunt. My body tried to shrivel in on itself to find warmth. No such luck. Lying in wait as I had, I’d turned wet and drippy. The relatively small glass dildo he’d set in ice and then covered in lubricant – as I quickly figured out – would slide in easily.

And it did. The cold of the glass and the heat of my body sent my mind into outerspace. I wasn’t sure whether to shiver or melt. I couldn’t decide between a whimper or a screech so some wild, animalistic combination came out.

He pumped the toy in and out, letting both artificial and natural juices mix until I was squelching. His palm landed on my ass. That left a mark. I didn’t care. The heat from his hand and the searing temperature from my body turned the once cold thrust into something like a sexy, sweet breeze on my skin.

It warmed up quickly. My screeching stopped, and I melted into the bed, pressing my cheek into the blankets, pushing my bottom further back, silently begging for more.

“Aaaaaaa-iiiiiieeeeeeee!!!!” I didn’t expect the ice cube on my labia, wet and melting but still freezing. He slid the dildo and ice in time with each other. There was no relief. Every nerve was on alert.

“Touch your clit, girl.”

How could I do that now? My brain didn’t know what hands and fingers and clits were. All it knew was hot and cold and brutal pleasure.

“Don’t make me tell you again.”

My hand whipped in between my legs. Swollen despite the inattention, it jutted out from it’s hood, waiting. Sensitive to the point of pain, I hissed as I stroked it with a feather light touch.

“Hold this.” He let go of the dildo, leaving it in my cunt, sticking out, waiting.

SMACK! SMACK! My body clenched around the toy as I whined with pain. “I said touch that fucking clit, and that’s what I fucking meant!” Each word was punctuated with another searing smack.

“Yes, yes, yes!” I babbled incoherently, terrified I would release the toy, not wanting to find out what would happen if I did.

His hand soothed the red marks he created as he calmly went back to the dildo, pumping away again. The ice had melted but his cold fingers remained on my pussy, feeling the way I was stretched and pulled. I swirled and circled my clit ferociously, not sure I could take another spanking. How had I wished for one earlier?

His hand replaced mine, pressing against my clit. Still cold but not painful, I thought he’d offer relief. I was wrong.

Pinching and twisting my clit, he mirrored the motion was the glass dildo until I screamed, “Please fuck please god please can I come?!?!”

For a long second there was silence, and then…”Yessssss!”

Spasms. Convulsing. Gushing. Wet. Juicy. That’s what I remember.

I don’t remember the toy leaving my cunt. I don’t remember the excess lube being wiped away. I don’t even remember being tucked in. My last clear memory was a quiet “Good girl” and then a “Do you want to play anymore?” I tried to answer, “No, thank you, I’m good” but who knows? Does it really matter? When I want to play again, I’ll never be ready for whatever he comes up with – thankfully.

Erotic fiction sponsored by Lubezilla. (Yes, that’s fiction – but if it gives a certain someone ideas, I won’t complain.)

About the author

Kayla Lords

I am a sex blogger, podcaster, freelance writer, international speaker, kink educator, and all-around kinky woman. You can find me online sharing my innermost sexual thoughts and experiences, teaching other bloggers how to make money writing about sex, and helping kinksters have happy healthy BDSM relationships. I'm also a masochistic babygirl submissive with an amazing and sadistic Daddy Dom and business partner, John Brownstone. Welcome to my kinky corner of the internet!


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