Virgin publication! “Mouth”

She had a name, but tonight she would just be Mouth…

That’s the first sentence of my first-ever commercially published smut, available NOW!

…She painted on her bright red lipstain, shuddering as the moist aphrodisiac gel touched the six sensitive neuro-crystals in her lips. They sparked and sparkled…

It’s a raunchy (of course) story set in a post-gender world where sex and gender are defined by pleasure, not biology or reproduction. Everyone’s gender in this future world will be defined by their primary sexual organ, which they can enhance through special pleasure-focused surgeries.

…The silk brushed against her lips so lightly that she felt naked. She imagined a breeze lifting the veil, exposing her genitalia to everyone…

Our heroine is a Mouth who gets invited to a very special party with a Cock, a Cunt, an Ass, and a mysterious mistress whose gender is only revealed at the climax (really!) of the story.

She kneeled, blind, genitals wide open, breathing. If she was to be a hole…

It was super exciting to be selected. The editor, Lauren P. Burka, has chosen an amazing array of stories for the Circlet Press anthology Up For Grabs 2: Exploring More Worlds of Gender.

In my story, “Mouth,” I did away with patriarchy and gender binaries by getting rid of “men” as a linguistic category — nifty, eh? — while keeping the, ahem, genital variation they bring to the party.

I was blown away by the various ways that the other writers imagined a post-gender or non-binary-gendered world.

I think this anthology is revolutionary because people often think that binary difference is what’s sexy — that heterosexuality, or something that mimics it, is the only way to create a certain kind of sexual tension.

In this anthology, we prove them wrong!

Please help me celebrate the end of my smut-writing virginity by:

tweeting, Facebooking, etc. about it this week (yes, do it now!  first-week sales really help!)

reviewing it on your blog (email m.svairini at gmail if you would like a review copy)

buying an ebook for yourself here

gifting ebooks to friends (birthday? Valentine’s Day?) here

suggesting it to any book reviewers or bloggers you know who would be interested

sharing it on any listserves you can think of that would be interested

Thank you! I promise that you will reap lots of warm wet hot karma for any of these acts.


Balancing Act

Adjustable Stocks

IT IS A DEVIOUS device: utterly exposing, utterly inescapable.   No wiggling on my part will get me out of it, let alone give me relief. And anyway, wiggling is risky.

I am on my back, legs in the air, tied to a long rod that keeps them in position.  The position is, as always for a girl like me, wide apart.  Both my cunt and my asshole are exposed, especially since I am at the top of a staircase.   Even if I were not blindfolded, I could not see down;  but anyone walking up has a perfect view of my most private parts.

My wrists are tied to the middle of the same rod, pulling my arms straight, causing my breasts to plump up between them and my back to arch slightly.   I could shift my wrists (and the rod) backward, but then my thighs would stretch and ache beyond toleration.   If I relax my thighs, the rod pulls my arms beyond the comfort zone – not to mention that I might topple down the staircase, for I can feel its edge at my lower back.   The only thing to do is maintain a perfect, obedient balance, until She returns.

Time passes.   Physical equilibrium is a necessity, but mental equilibrium is harder to come by.

Click, click. Heels come up the stairs, quick as knives.

SOMETHING HARD AND FLAT presses my cunt, twists against it too briefly, takes away just a layer of my wetness.   Next the hard flat thing is on my mouth, and I am licking it, cleaning it – the sole of her shoe.   I am privileged to lick it.   I am not allowed to lick it for long.

Now a cold thing touches my right nipple – no, not exactly the nipple, but a close circle around it.   I gasp before I understand what is happening – it is as if my nipple is being pulled and twisted most cruelly, but nothing is actually touching it.   Only air.

“Look at it,” She commands, pulling the blindfold off.   I know better than to look anywhere else, however much I long to see her beauty:  I gaze directly at my nipple, now engorged, double its normal size.   She is using a suction device to swell me into a state of pornographic arousal.   When She is satisfied, She squeezes a small elastic ring around my nipple, to keep it erect and enlarged.

She starts in on the other nipple, and as She concentrates, I sneak a quick look at her:  spiked purple hair, mouth and fingernails painted to match, gold and silver striped eyeshadow, smooth caramel curves poured into a zippered latex bodysuit.   My Goddess, I think, for She looks like a goddess of the new millennium, though part of me knows She is just a woman like me.   By contrast I am naked, unsophisticated, and feeling very mortal.

She catches my eye, and I look down immediately — too late.   Her fingers grab and twist both nipples, and immediately I realize her ministrations have made them not only larger, but infinitely more sensitive.   I groan.

“SHUT UP, you disobedient bitch,”  She says,  “I don’t want to hear your whining.”   As her long purple fingernails continue the torture, I try to pretend my nipples, dark brown and obscenely swollen almost to the size of walnuts, and as hard, belong to someone else; that the pain is a movie I am watching.   I know She wants me to see;  She has not rescinded the order to look.   I feel her gaze on my face, measuring my obedience and submission.  She pinches and scrapes, her nails sharp as teeth.

When she takes off the plastic rings, I think she is finished, but then she puts on smaller rings that confine my nipples even more tightly.  The movie resumes, and goes on and on.   I bite down on my rising panic, biting my lip so hard I taste blood, but I do not make another sound.

I don’t know how long I have been holding my breath, but when She finally stops, I exhale, and gulp in air as if I have been held underwater.   I keep my eyes down, even as She moves behind me and out of view.

It is getting very difficult to keep my balance.

A zipper unzips.

NOW SHE IS KNEELING over my face, pushing her cunt onto my lips.  Her ample ass cheeks cup my nose.  I can hardly breathe as I open my mouth and let my tongue gently find her, lapping her upside down, tasting the pungent liquid and skin of her.  Her fingers caress my nipples, lightly this time, but they are so sensitized that the caress feels like fire.

Then She touches my pussy lips, lightly tracing them, obviously not intending to give me pleasure, only to pleasure herself with my need.   Her breathing becomes rough and jagged, and small sounds escape her.  Overjoyed, I flick my tongue faster and faster on her round hard clit.   Soon She arches backward and lets out a long, guttural moan.  My face is drenched.

If I were allowed, I could climax from the pleasure of her pleasure.

She sits back, letting her pussy rest against my hair.  After a moment, She zips up again and leans forward to touch my nipples.  Her breasts are just above my face, pushing against their tight casing.   “Ready or not,” She says, giving a low laugh, and grabs my breasts with her whole hands, squeezing and twisting them as if She is trying to draw milk.

“YOU CAN MOAN this time,” She says, and I am grateful to give her what she wants, my submission and its audible evidence.   “Thank me,” She says, clawing my breasts in smooth even lines toward the middle, ending each scratch with a cruel flick at my tormented nipples.

“Thank you Ma’am,” I gasp, “Thank you for hurting my tits, Oh, thank you for Ahh letting me service you, thank you for punishing my disobedience, thank you O god Ma’am—”  and so on and on I babble as she scrapes me raw, making welts that I know will last for days.

Inarticulate as I am, she must be pleased, for She says, “You can cum anytime you want.”

But still she doesn’t touch my pussy, only focuses her attention on my nipples, my poor raw nipples which feel as if they might burst into flame at any moment, and just as I think I cannot take the pain anymore, she leans forward and puts one into her mouth.

HER TONGUE is like heaven, her lips soft and warm. As she takes first one nipple, then the other into her mouth, I feel my cunt begin to expand … toward the orgasm, which is building and building from the wetness of waiting for her, spread wide open, nothing but cool air caressing me there, so I pretend my nipple is my clit and I moan, “Oh thank you Mistress,” her tongue is lapping at it, flicking it, sucking … Suddenly she bites down, hard, and I cum like a flood, lifting up, tilting forward and at the same moment remembering I must not tilt forward, the stairs—

so I scream.

She is so good at what She does.

She has hold of my upper arms.  Because of her, I do not fall down the stairs, but only cry from fear and relief.

She grabs the bar and pulls it back toward herself, so I am curled like an upside-down ball, shaking.   She strokes my tears, then my other wetness, puts her fingers in my mouth.  I taste salt, sex, her skin and my cum mingled together.

“Very good,” She says as she begins to unbuckle me from the device.  “You are learning to trust me, don’t you think?”

“Yes Ma’am,” I say softly, awed by her power.  “Thank you Ma’am.”

~  ~  ~

Thanks to J.T.’s Stockroom for the visual inspiration! Readers, please spend your perv dollars at J.T.’s, or if you’re a cheap asshole, just go there to browse; lotsa hot pictures where that one came from.