Pillow Talk

Erotic Tales

Belle Époque

They had met at the end of the season. He had seemed like some great austere saint and so dull. But after sharing a few dances and having had the pleasure of sitting next to him during the horse races, she had found that he was far from noble and was indeed quite clever.

He amused her. His humor was razor sharp, his intellect far superior to anyone she had ever met. He unsettled her, and intrigued her. What hovered on the raw edge just below the surface was a dark, smoldering, sleeping volcano. A bath of lava she wanted to submerge herself in and emerge from like a phoenix.

She was fascinated by him, and his deviant mind and felt in her gut she should be afraid. But all she wanted to do was kneel at his feet. It made her despise herself. She was no Victorian twit! This was 1910 and she refused to emulate her mother.

She hadn’t acknowledged her inner desires until meeting him. She had been focused on her social status, and with her parents, had been slowly considering her marriage options for climbing up the ranks. He had been one such option, that she had stubbornly refused based on her first impression.

There was this internal fight that she was faced with ever since she had hit puberty. There were so many things that a proper English Lady did not do or even admit to. Upon meeting him again over dinner, she had given up that fight. She found herself flowing into him.

As she went to her dresser and chose yet another string of pearls to add to the collection already weighing down the high collar of lace, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair up, with some curls escaping haphazardly to frame her fine boned face, she was annoyed to see her cheeks so flushed. Her eyes dark black pools of lust stared back at her.

He did that to her.

They were meeting at the Opera tonight, and she hoped her parents had not been fools in letting her go escorted by no more than the old maid that often served breakfast in their home.

He waited for her at the loge.

Unlike most suitors who went out of their way to dote on her, collecting her at her home, asking her what she would like to do and such; he always made her come to him and told her what the plans for the evening were. Part of his arrogance in these things irritated her, part of it left her breathless. She already had so many things to think about, in running a home, organizing sweaty shop girls in her social work and everything that went with her station, that not having to think for herself actually came as a reprieve. Upon arrival at the loge he showed himself the perfect Gentleman, giving her prime seating and flattering her. The old maid sat in the second row, little beady eyes well aware of the electricity between them.

He leaned in, under guise of giving her the details of the story line. His warmth made her entire body shiver. He said nothing, just breathed on her exposed shoulders and neck as she was forced for social dignity to remain perfectly still, and calm. She dropped her Opera glasses in her lap, he picked them up, applying pressure to her sex. She almost fainted as the rush of blood flooded her clit and vulva and her corset strangled her breath. She felt her nipples harden under her lace bodice and ached for his touch.

She looked at him then, certain her eyes betrayed her desire. He sneered and pulled away. Her cheeks bloomed red and she was grateful for the blanket of darkness that fell.

Soon the curtains opened and Elektra began. Based on the Greek tragedy of the same name, the opera by Richard Strauss let unfold before her the horror and gloom of revenge, the sole theme. Every note, every scene dragging at her heart bringing her deeper and deeper into the despair that led to murder, and in the last scenes Elektra, in an ecstatic dance of triumph, falling dead in front of her horror-stricken attendants.

Discussing with delicate delight her impressions of the Opera with him, he walked her and her chaperon to his Silver Ghost. The maid stalled. There was no convincing the woman to enter the motor car. No matter what was said she simply would not. Seemingly chivalrous, he hailed down a horse and carriage and sent her on her way, soothing her with kind words. The poor woman was so frazzled she did not seem to notice that in the process, she had abandoned her charge.

Unfolding quietly her sheer, gauzy scarf to wrap around the edges of her massively brimmed hat, tying it securely under her chin, she accepted moments later his hand as she stepped into the vehicle. As he settled next to her and the motor crackled and boomed to life she breathed with enchantment her enthusiasm at the sense of freedom and speed that came from the promised road ahead. She wished bitterly she could loosen her corset.

The silence between them was pleasant. There was little point in trying to speak over the engine noise. She closed her eyes. Let herself feel his presence next to her. She knew the city would gossip at this the next day, but for now she simply enjoyed the fleeting sense of rebellion that sent the butterflies in her stomach a flutter. Then, they stopped short as the car suddenly halted. She opened her eyes and realized she didn’t know where she was.

She was alone with him on a country road along the ocean. Miles from anywhere and anyone. How had this happened? She smiled at him nervously and realized then that she was his pray. But instead of feeling fear, she felt total peace envelope her like a guardian.

He stepped out of the car.

She waited.

He motion with a sharp gesture that she should join him. She removed very carefully the hat, gloves and scarf and left them in the back seat. Fumbling a moment with the door, she attempted to exit the car as elegantly as possible without falling. She nearly did but caught herself. He waited patiently a few steps away.

The trees hid them from public view. The Ocean waves crashed angrily in a pre-storm hissy fit along the coast far far below the cliff he had chosen.

“You will marry me” he said. There was no reply. He turned slowly raising an eyebrow at her. He was calm but imposing.

“Yes” she responded.


Without hesitation she did. Not caring that the fine Belgian lace of her gown would need delicate cleaning to return them to their desired bright white.

“You are mine – you understand? Do not speak just nod yes or no”.

She nodded in the affirmative.

“You are an intriguing woman, I will give you that. I never thought I’d find a one worthy of my attention. You haven’t disappointed me… yet. Surprising considering your young years”

She remained silent basking in his praise as he walked up to her, and removed her jewels. She already felt naked without her hat and gloves. His fingers on her neck made her forget to breathe. His gesture was rough yet, never did he pull her hair or actually cause pain. She trembled from cold and from something she could not name.

She almost screamed when she felt his fingers on the buttons of her bodice. She almost ran when he caressed her shoulders with his lips, She moaned deeply when he unlaced her corset exposing her bare back to the elements. Revealing her to the outdoors as she never had been.

“Breathe” he ordered almost lovingly. She did – deeply. She sensed his anger at the corset for containing her so. She smiled. There was something tender there.

“Do you wish me to stop?” She remained silent. “You may answer” he added. Quivering she whispered barely audibly.



He grabbed her by the arm and escorted her to the car. With the scarf previously abandoned in the back seat he tied her to the cross bar holding the canvas roof. Alarm now rushed through her. A sense of controlled terror took over. He smiled then. He wanted her, and she knew then that she desperately needed him to.

Her hands tied, facing the car, standing there, he pulled her head back towards him. His other hand cupped her breast and exposed it to the cold and he pinched her nipple hard. She had never been touched by a man. She had barely ever touched herself. Her body responded with emotions and desires she was wholly unprepared to deal with.

She screamed. He let go of her hair, and kneeled at her feet waiting for her scream to die. Then, as she trembled and shook, he let his hands climb up, her petticoats. She sobbed and screamed again. On the fine line between outrage and craving.

She had never known such intimate contact, she had never expected it to be so intensely arousing. She had on no account expected him to be so… tender. What were these feelings she felt. Her screams tangled in her throat with moans as his fingers pressed her nether regions. Nothing but a thin layer of cotton between his digits and her cunt. She hung her head in embarrassment as she felt the moisture soak into the fabric.

Slowly, he pressed, small circles and delicious pressure made her knees weak, Her breath caught in her throat now, her groans grew louder. She felt a sensation she had never know, a flooding of warmth and pleasure. She found herself pressing into him, whispering his name. Her head fell back of its own accord as her first orgasm shook her body. She collapsed, with only his strength and the ropes holding her up.

He untied her then, and kissed her, proudly, fiercely. Taking her hand he placed it on his hard cock. She felt it, curious and a little alarmed. The heat and hardness obvious even through his trousers.

“Good – as much as my social standing requires me to have a Lady for a wife, I will not, like so many fools, have you simply tolerate my touch for procreation. I do not wish to support a mistress. You shall be both. In public you will show all the grace and elegance of a woman of your standing. Of that you are most capable. I needed to know if you were able to let go of those social bindings in private. I will not marry a woman unable to let go sufficiently to feel pleasure.” She barely heard him. She sat in the passenger seat of the car, flushed and glowing with this new delight.

Next week, we will begin your sexual education. The basics, fellatio and such, both receiving and giving pleasure. Your education, will culminate with your deflowering on our wedding night. Something I am looking forward to immensely. By then, your fears of that act will have been replaced by excitement” he said.

What he did not see, was the moonlit smile that curved her delicate lips. She had judged him correctly and bagged her man. 

There were some things an English Lady never admitted. He had ensured she never had to.

© Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk, 2009/2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

April 4, 2010 Posted by | erotica, Not the bedroom, Outdoors, Tied Up | , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

Playing with Fire – Part III

She walked up to the cross; he was now yanking weakly at his restraints. Still dazed but coming around. She undid the leather straps and he crumbled to the floor unable to hold himself up. He sat there dazed, his back resting against one of the metal legs. He was done trying to fight any of this. “You alright” she asked kindly. He looked up and realizing it was a total stranger tried to get up but she firmly pushed him down. “Rest and enjoy the show”. Puzzled he complied. Part of him was furious, a palpable anger below the surface. Seeing that look in his eye, I had a moment of fear. Had I gone too far? But he had never said the code word. I relaxed. Too late now.

“You’re crazy, you know?” My friend commented as she walked toward me on the couch. I just grinned and nodded. “You are going to get yourself raped or killed one of these days.” I scowled at her. The words “don’t say that” escaped before I could think of something wittier to say. She was right. This was a very dangerous game indeed. After all, I knew absolutely nothing about the man I had brought “home” to play with. I was suddenly grateful for her presence.

She settled next to me, looking at the box of toys open before us. I watched her hand glide over some of her favorites. We had been here before. She pulled out a double-sided dildo and a wicked smile crossed her face as she looked at me. I was so hot and wet that the very thought of it sliding into me sent a ripple of pleasure across my entire body. Not far away I heard an appreciative moan as our guest settled down, grabbing a throw blanket and made himself comfortable. He seemed unaffected by his experience. I could almost hear him thinking, “The guys will never believe me!”. I couldn’t help wonder what parts he would omit in the retelling.

My friend’s hand had cupped a breast out of my corset. Her fingers playing with the nipple, rolling it, pinching it. Her lips in my neck, her saliva leaving a trail of cold moisture wherever it went. My hand reached down and found the fountain of wet slickness between my thighs. “You want me to take care of that?” she asked quietly in my ear. I nodded. As much as I love a man, a woman’s touch can far outdo the most skilled of them. Her fingers brushed my own aside and I felt her touch manipulate its mark. Her mouth on mine, I hissed with pleasure.

It didn’t take long for her to bring me to the very edge. With the skill of a well-practiced lover, she slid the large dildo, slowly, agonizingly so, into my gaping cunt. I was so overcome with pleasure I slid off the couch onto the floor the toy still buried inside of me. My friend giggled in a low sexy tone and came down to meet me. This time, she lay facing me, our legs crossing each others, Indian style. She impaled herself on the other end of the battery-operated rod. Facing one another, filled by the same “cock” we rocked back and forth. I was leaning against the coffee table and she against the couch. One hand on our clits the other holding us up, we lashed out in a feverish frenzy, splashing together, stabbing into each other, biting our own lips. Surprisingly, she came first. She lurched forward, as her body washed away in uncontrolled orgasm, her hips pinning me in place.

Frustrated that I had been denied release, I closed my eyes to let my fingers finish. But I felt a set of strong hands lift me off the floor. He was back. He put me on the couch, my ass towards him, my chest and arms folded comfortably on the backrest. I bent my left leg, placing the foot on the seat giving him the most spectacular view. He kissed his way down my back, but with no added foreplay, knowing I was ready to burst, he slid inside. The heat of his cock and the smell of the condom sent me nearly off the edge. I grabbed back and held his balls, letting them roll in my hand like delicate plums. My friend joined in and, placing a dollop of lube on my asshole handed him the dildo and walked away. “Revenge is sweet my friend” she laughed as she left us to it.

He grabbed my long hair and shoved the dildo into my mouth. “Suck it,” he commanded. I loved it. The roll reversal was inebriating. I sucked it as he fucked me. “Shit that’s sexy,” he moaned. Pulling the vibrator out of my mouth, he then placed the tip against the ring of my anus and pressed. I relaxed welcoming the intruder. The most glorious feeling rewarded me. I could feel his member rub against the dildo now firmly up my ass, the thin membrane separating the two growing hotter with every thrust. I reached down again letting my fingers play with my clit, almost loosing traction as the excessive moisture leaked out of me like tears of joy.

He fiercely pulled my hips, and his legs trembled as semen coursed upward into the lengthy rod and burned its way to burst from the end to explode like fireworks. Knowing he was coming for the third time was such a turn on that I finally felt it. I screeched and swung my head wildly with painful glee as my body went into a trembling orgasm. My hands grasped at thin air, as my tongue furiously lashed across my lips. I bolted and jerked against both dildo and meaty shaft. I fell across the couch, exhausted, spent, satisfied.

Playing with fire had paid off.

© Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or
duplication of this material without express and written permission
from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts
and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to
Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk with appropriate and specific
direction to the original content.

May 25, 2009 Posted by | anal, erotica, Threesome, Tied Up | , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

Playing with Fire – Part II

I motioned to the couch, where he could lounge for a moment and left the room to strip down. I love the power of lingerie, perhaps a vestige of playing dress up as a child. I had chosen well for my outing; not that I had planned this, but what I wore was perfect. I removed my “outer wear” to reveal the visual feast below. I grabbed one last item, put it on, and walked back into the living room and my guest.I saw his eyes go wide with a mingle of appreciation and a little apprehension. He took it all in. The tight black bustier with fuchsia trim that made my breasts look like they hovered and accentuated my hip to waist ratio. The way the detailing framed my curves making everything seem higher, rounder. My legs long and lean in fuchsia leathered heals …. But where his eyes froze; was at the strap-on I had slipped over the fuchsia mesh panties with the word “beware” stitched across my ass.

“What you going to do with that?” he laughed nervously. I arched an eyebrow high … wasn’t it obvious? I walked over, confidant but not threatening. “Exactly what you want me to do…”

I straddled him – the synthetic cock between us like a third wheel. He kissed me as he continued to chuckle, still a little nervous. His finger slid inside me, I was so wet and so ready … but I wanted to make this grown man grovel and beg for mercy. I wasn’t yet sure, how I was going to make it all happen but I knew what was going to transpire.

He let his finger covered in my juices glide along my tongue, the taste of my own secretions always a turn on. His lips were on mine again … hungry with desire as his own member came back to life, rising like Lazarus. I pinned him down with my weight – he let me. He was far stronger than I was and could have easily overcome me – he chose not to. My hands caressed his body, my teeth bit into his flesh. I let my canines and fingers create red welts along his jugular and left battle scars everywhere they went. I kissed him and bit his lower lip … hard. He hissed and kissed back urgently. His breathing was fast, his body shivering with every unyielding or feather light touch.

“Get up” I order. In a daze and trance, he obeyed. I walked him over to the metal cross and before he could think too long about the consequences; I snapped him in, the leather straps holding him in place. There he was – facing the wall – his ass mine …quite literally. I leaned in and whispered, “The code word is “Panther” do you understand?” He nodded suddenly trembling. I soothingly rubbed his body. I reached for some oil and used it to massage his shoulders. He sighed and relaxed. I switched to lube and placed some liberally around the ring of his ass and all over the fake shaft still attached to my pelvic bone.

I let my fingers caress the skin on his back … barely touching. I could see goose bumps spring up and involuntary shivers take over. I leaned down and grabbed his member – it was almost painful as I pulled it back unnaturally. Holding it tight in one hand, I played with his balls and teased the tip. I let the other hand wander down and started massaging his puckered anus once more. His breath caught and he could feel his resolve dissipate. He tensed and I knew if I didn’t stop or break the rhythm he would come. I swiftly stood up, and firmly pressed my body against his. He let out a yelp as the head of his penis, now released, sprung back to the front and hit the cold metal of the x in the cross. My own spear pushed against his ass, the tip pressing against the ring. He tensed, and I let my fingers dig into his hair and pulled his head backwards. The gesture shocked him as he struggled to breathe, his head pulled so unnaturally. It was enough … I pressed the head of the dildo in, felt resistance …. Waited … waited … I leaned in and bit his shoulder blade hard. He reacted again with a muffled scream and I slid in all the way.

“NO!!!” …. he shook and trembled. I waited for the code word … but it never came. I started to fuck him. This strong heterosexual male was at my mercy and for all his denial and litany of No’s … he was enjoying it. His body betrayed him. He yanked on the restraints and whimpered as I invaded his body in a way it had never been before. I reached for a whip, and never breaking my rhythm, let the leather leave mark after mark on his back. Oh the power. To see such strength reduced to this. To watch him give up control. A cavernous, angry and powerful moan came from deep within him. It was animalistic in everyway – if he had not been tied up, I would have feared the sound. I never broke tempo as the dildo and whip took turns beating him down ….Beating his orgasm up. It was coming and he feared it – fought it.

The fierceness of the scream that ripped through him was proof that every single inhibition, wall and self-image he had of himself had been trampled. He was at the mercy of his bodies desires. He could not control it, could not stop it …. It owned him. He was no longer master of his domain, the orgasm was and I was the pilot. His head thrashed back, I dropped the whip, plunging in hard one last time and placed one hand on his mouth and the other pinched his nose. He could not breathe. His body panicked as the supply of air died. His chest pulling for oxygen that never came. I slowly resumed the pelvic thrusts, gentle now, driving the dildo inside him again and at last, he came. He shot his load and at that moment, I released him. He took a deep shuddering breath and roared with pleasure at the same time.

He hung limp from his straps. Too weak and spent to stand on his own. I pulled out. Sat on the couch, flushed and sexually unsatisfied; disinfected the dildo and put a few things away. Just then, my friend walked in with a smile on her face….. I looked up and grinned back at her. “How long you been listening at the door?” …. She was flushed and her hand was twitching with a need to release sexual energy. “Long enough” she purred.

© Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or
duplication of this material without express and written permission
from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts
and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to
Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk with appropriate and specific
direction to the original content.

May 18, 2009 Posted by | anal, erotica, Threesome, Tied Up, Voyeur | , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

Playing with Fire – Part I

Photography by Danniel Oickle

I have been called many things in life. Femme Fatal, Amazon, Package Deal, Nymphomaniac, Sex Goddess, Triple Threat… to mention just a few. All of them I take with a grain of salt or even wear the badge with pride. I am not ashamed of who I am, nor do I hide my voracious appetite. Even being called a “bitch with attitude” doesn’t bother me. After all, it can be true.

I love the curves of my body. I was once told I was like a white girl with a black woman’s ass. I have never forgotten that particular calling card. Trust a Cockney bouncer to come up with that one!

I had gone out after a long day and was having fun dancing. I recognize that many people go to clubs to hook up; most bars are meat markets. Not me. I go because I love to dance. I enjoy letting the music move me, love the way it feels like it’s caressing my body… I relish the abandonment, the escape. The energy I get from dancing is astonishing.

I had managed to keep men at bay all night, but walking to the bathroom an idiot grabbed my ass pinching it hard enough to bruise. “Oh how I would like to get into your panties” he garbled … I pulled away and threw over my shoulder some quip remark about one asshole being enough, thank you.

When I returned, I noticed a newcomer; there was something disarmingly honest about his face. A large, easy smile that made my own lips curl upwards. He happily talked to his friends, with the ease of a man sure of who he is and secure in his identity. Oh, yes… now he … he was yummy.

I insinuated myself between him and his buddies, leaning over to place an order with the bartender for a drink I didn’t really want. In the mirror behind all the bottles, I saw him look down at my derriere and give it an appreciative nod. Then, surprisingly, he locked eyes with me in the mirrors reflection – smiling. He knew. He knew I had targeted him and saw through my tactic. Only he was game. It was written all over him.

He leaned in whispering: “Should I be buying you that drink?” I shook my head no, took my beverage, downed it, walked three steps away, and put out my hand in a “come hither” gesture. His friends shouted a “no!” telling him that he’d be crazy to go. “She‘s hot man – women like that are bitches“. It was the only push he needed. Oh yes, I liked him more and more.

He followed me to the dance floor, where we let our bodies ride the musical waves together. He had rhythm, and knew how to move. Promising indeed. My arms languidly dropped around his shoulders and I could feel the heat rising between us. We kissed passionately, each comfortable in our own cockiness. Both aware of our charms and power over the other in that moment. Things were going to happen. We both knew it and both of us wanted it. We were playing with fire.

One friend of his in particular was irate. Feeling left out he kept trying to cut in or discourage the attraction. But we laughed it off. The more he and others disapproved, the more we enjoyed each other’s presence. Apparently neither one of us had quite outgrown our inner teenage rebel.

I needed some air and walked away – certain he would follow. He did not disappoint. I walked out of the club and he sauntered up next to me. We enjoyed the play of electricity between us as we walked up the street in silence to the outskirts of a park. There we kissed. Our lips brushed, our tongues mingled, and my hand squeezed his cock through his pants. I am strong, and not afraid to show it. He moaned into my mouth, pulled back and just smiled. It was time to take him home…

… Not my home. I took him to a friend’s house for which I have a key and an open invitation to let myself in at all times. A friend with some interesting décor choices.

I have never been a big fan of real, serious S&M. Nevertheless, like anyone that enjoys sexual adventure and collecting sexploits, it is of interest to skim the surface. This was that kind of love shack. I walked into the room, turned the lights on low thanks to a dimmer and asked him to strip. He seemed a little taken aback at the authority in my voice, but obeyed. I could see his eyes following the four walls of the room, his confidence slightly shaken. Not so sure now as he nervously eyed the large cross of steel on the wall with leather cuffs hanging from each extremity – not to mention the abundant collection of whips, knives and other paraphernalia.

I wanted to let him know that this was about mutual pleasure. I kneeled and kissed the length of his stiffening manhood with moist lips until it stood tall and straight before my face. Then flattening my tongue I gave it a broad, slow licking, back up the flared head. Finally, I opened wide and surrounded the pulsating rod with my sucking mouth.

I practically inhaled his cock with complete abandon. All traces of sophistication now gone. I was at present nothing more then a simple woman going insane over a gorgeous penis. Up and down … Up and down. My hands cupped and snuggled into the valley of his ass. He didn’t stand a chance. My index finger probed into his warm crack to find his asshole. Finding the mark, I followed the anal ring around and around. It felt too good for him to do anything but enjoy it. I let my finger dig inside the tight muscle and started exploring.

I sucked hard never breaking my steady rhythm. Finger dipping and twisting driving him crazy. I allowed the thick honey to erupt on my chest but I kept gouging with my index as lurch after involuntary lurch came from his hips. Nothing was coming out now; but to him it felt like it was… long after his climax usually ended. The finger was driving him, causing him to make jerk after jerk. Reading his body language, I knew the moment of pleasure had passed for now.

I slowly eased from the depths of his anus and he whispered, “wow…”.

The trap was set.

© Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or
duplication of this material without express and written permission
from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts
and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to
Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk with appropriate and specific
direction to the original content.

May 11, 2009 Posted by | anal, erotica, Threesome, Tied Up, Voyeur | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 20 Comments