Flesh yielded under teeth, smashed nerve endings protesting as muscle collapsed. She felt him twitching instinctively underneath her, muscles involuntarily starting to pull away then stopping, then surrendering. Soft whimpers and harsh breathing rolling down over the back of her head as she ground her teeth further into him, pushing her jaw closed on his arm.

“Ummmm…” She licked her lips, and looked up at his closed eyes, the clenched jaw and veins in his neck. “I wish I could really eat you, tear off a big slab of muscle with my teeth and chew it up while you screamed and blood poured out of you onto the floor, grind your bones between my teeth and feel them crunch…”

She shuddered at his long exhalation and started to lean down, mouth open wide, waiting for him to look before she sank her teeth into his body again.

And then stopped. Frowned. Bit her bottom lip and cocked her head slightly. “Be right back.”

She hopped up and ran to the kitchen, saw him looking up at her still half dazed as she came back.

“An ice cream bar?”

She nodded, licked her lips as she pulled the paper away and off, casually tossed it on the floor. Small fingers carefully pried the sandwich in two, set one half aside, and slapped the other half down on his arm.

The sound of him grunting at the sudden cold on his hot skin came to her from far away, and she growled at the need to restrain herself from biting down as hard as she could. Shocks ran through her body as her teeth tore through the outer cookie, the crunch rippling through her mouth and down to her cunt, echoing all along her spine. Her eyes slammed shut, she took huge voracious bites, chewing, not bothering to swallow, letting crumpled remains fall back out, pushing her teeth into his body, pretending it was all him she was ruining. The slow, sensual pressure from earlier gave way to great, frantic bites, her teeth sliding into him and skimming along, pulling wet hard chunks away from his body as he gasped at the damage her teeth were doing.

A mess of destroyed food lay in a series of broken circles dotting his skin. She licked her lips and felt slime and debris running down her chin, and wanted more.

She slapped the other half of the ice cream bar down on him and fed again, pushing her teeth further into his skin, trembling as he gasped in shock at the cold of the ice cream and heat of her breath washing over his skin, her teeth pushing into him. Angry, ravenous sounds coming from deep inside her as she felt her teeth scraping along his skin, imagined it was his muscles and blood flooding her mouth.

Until it was gone again.

Her breathing was hard, torn ragged as she looked down at him, lying totally still and trying to keep his breathing calm. Her eyes washed down his body, then stopped.

Melted vanilla dripped off her teeth as she smiled, felt her hunger still pulsing deep inside of her.

“Get your cock hard. I want to try something.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

She clicked the link and hopped when the bedroom came into view on the monitor. “Cool! The winner is me!”

She scooted behind him, leaned down to look over his shoulder. “Ok, try to type something.”

She sighed at his whimpers as he tried to lean forward, the rope holding him tight against the chair, the clover clamps biting harder into his nipples as he slowly stretched his hands toward the keyboard, chains wrapped tight around his wrists pulling their metal jaws closer on his skin as he reached for the keyboard. He typed with the very ends of his fingertips, wincing and breathing harder with every letter.

h-e-l-l-o

The dialogue appeared in the chat box below the window. With one final muted sob he hit enter and the box flashed, the word appearing next to his login.

“Awesome. Now remember: I’m going to be very offended if I don’t get lots of suggestions for sexy things to do.” She pulled herself tight against him, rocking the chair slightly, biting his ear and pulling the lobe until it popped out of her teeth. “And just to make it more interesting for you, I want complete sentences, properly capitalized and punctuated.” She grinned at his sigh and blew a kiss at him as she walked to the doorway.

“Enjoy your cam show baby.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

The sound of the handcuff wrapping around the bedpost seemed very far away, and he only reluctantly shook himself further awake as his wrist was pulled up and metal wrapped around it. A firm, insistent poking in his ribs woke him the rest of the way up, and he slowly rolled over, maneuvered around the arm cuffed to the headboard, and looked at her with mock gravity. She answered with a smirk of her own, and pushed the tip of the riding crop into his stomach.

“Awake, Ayemericeeen pig-dog! You who soil ze room, and zehn expect ze poor maid to clean your mess!”

He shook his head and eyed her appreciatively, then shoved himself up to a sitting position, resting his back against the headboard. “I didn’t even know you owned a French Maid costume, not that I’m complaining mind you.”

“Zees is no costume! I ahm ze maid, and ah have grown tired of picking up ze’ ahnderwear!” The crop slapped against his exposed nipple, a hard flat sound of leather hitting flesh.

His body jerked and he reflexively grabbed for the crop, stopping his hand halfway there and squeezing his hand into a ball, trying to distract himself from the pain.

Her eyebrow arched and she rubbed the end of the crop against his nipple, teasing it in slow circles. “Does he want zees? If he does he should take eet. And I will go get zee single tail…” The crop rubbed slowly against his skin, daring him to take it.

“No, he really just wants to hear you say ‘Daffy English kuh-niggets.’” He winced and yelped as she laughed and slapped his nipple hard with the crop, quick light slaps over and over until his chest throbbed and he shoved his free hand under his leg, jaw clenched and grimacing in pain.

She stopped, looking at him, smiling. “Does ze’ filthy American have any more jokes?”

“No ma’am.” He shook his head and pushed the words out between clenched teeth.

“Good, zen we shall commence with ze’ cleaning. And for every article of clothing, ah shall have to punish you.” She tapped the crop against her hand, surveying the floor in confusion, then shrugged. She looked back at him, and shook her head. All traces of the fake accent gone, she touched her tongue to her upper lip while the small crease above her forehead collapsed into view. “How do you do it anyway? Seriously. The bathroom is there, the bed is here, and your socks are over there, and your underwear is clear over in the corner? I think one house slipper is under the dresser, but I have no idea where the other one is.”

His eyes followed where she pointed, shrugging at each article of clothing. “It’s a guy thing? I mean, I don’t do it on purpose…”

She shrugged and started walking about the room, picking up articles of clothing with the end of the crop, flicking them across the room at him. He caught them with his free hand, dropping them in a pile on the bed beside him. Her circuit of the room finally brought her back in front of him, grinning again and biting the end of the crop with a wink. “Show me your backside, Ahmerican. You shall be punished for zees mess. And zehn, do you know what deespicable Ahmerican toureests do?”

He licked his lips and slid off the bed, turning around but looking back over his shoulder at her. “No, what do they do?”

She shifted a few steps and planted her feet, feeling her grip on the crop. “Zey try to fuck ze’ maids. And sometimes, if ze’ ahr veeery lucky, ze’ succeed. And zhen do you know what happeeens?”

He slid his shoulders back to her, eagerly, and shook his head. “No, what happens then?”

“After ze’ fucking, ze’ clean up their mess.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.