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Welcome to Counter-Cult, your home for vividly written, FREE BDSM and Non-consent erotic fiction.

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Friday, October 29, 2010

Quickie: He finds her there...

"Come," she calls to him.

He's caught her playing with herself, rolling about in auto-erotic pleasure amid the sheets. She was moaning and gasping to her own amusement, clad in the leather she'd bought from the town that day - the labelled boxes and bags strewn about the floor told him this.

Surely she wanted to be found like this. Who would make such an effort alone?

Regardless, she wants him to come to her.

Her leg, half-eaten by the thigh-high boot she wears, is dangling off the side of the bed. She kicks it cutely, her right hand buried beneath the covers, beneath her panties.

"Come..." she whispers again.

And now for something completely different...

In the spirit of all things evil and dastardly, you can find below my submission to Insatiabear's Halloween Flash Fiction Friday challenge.

To get some perspective, you can read about the challenge here, on Insatiabear's blog.

We were given the following picture and challenged to write flash fiction (150-275 words) inspired by it and to include this phrase in our submission: "cold and dead".

Here is my attempt:

The many men she's had before,
The many souls, collided.
The many times he thought of her
With lips and legs divided.

But here she lies, a covered head,
A naked corpse below.
So stiff and still, a cold and dead
Reminder that she's gone.

But how can he, a silly fool
With matching stiff in hand,
Tell her that he'll always know,
That he'd always understand

That she is much more beautiful
Much brighter as a ghost.
A spirit, spector, spook or ghoul -
Softer shadow of its host. 

As though she could never quite be
As free as she is now.
The many times she'd made him see
How she would choke and drown.

The many thoughts cry in his skull
And weep into his veins
He's another man, by her, full
Of void, and lacked restraint.

He leaves her now, his many gifts
Lie in ribbons on the floor -
A testament, accidentally left
To another dead whore.

(I know, it creeps me out too! But I enjoyed writting something a little different, and I do so enjoy Insatiabear's challenges.)

So, against the flow of that dark little diversion, I leave you with:

Love, licks and lashings,

Cynthia's Punishment

Cynthia Merrick dropped a client file in John's in-tray and winked at him as she passed. Her walk from his desk was deliberately suggestive - the long strides she took forced a perfect bounce from her behind as it swung from her hips. The Accounts boys sounded their appreciation with a chorus of whistles.

She headed to the break room, passing by the open door of Nina Hanson's office, unaware that her little show had also aroused her boss' attention.

Pouring herself a coffee from the jug of the drip brew, Cynthia turned at the echo of high-heeled footsteps joining her in the kitchenette. She saw Nina entering and grinned broadly.

Raising her mug in acknowledgment, she said, "That time of the morning, huh?"

Nina's lips crept into a sly smirk. "We all have our vices," she replied. "But, actually, I came to enquire about the database I asked your to put together last week."

"Oh," said Cynthia, her smile fading. "I haven't got to that yet."

"Well, then perhaps we'd better continue this conversation in my office."

Thursday, October 28, 2010

The Offering

Her toes can barely touch the step, forcing her body to weigh down on the ropes binding her wrists above her head. It's a constant battle for balance that causes perspiration to bead across her forehead and heaving breasts.

He's dressed her up too, ready for the big presentation. A blood-red satin gown hugs her straining body and spills down the stairs below her. The matching satin wrap is tied across her eyes.

Gothic-inspired industrial metal bursts loudly through the house - the music causing the wooden floors of the entrance foyer to occasionally groan.

Scarlett feels like an offering to a vampiric lord.

"Will you stop sweating like that, you're staining that dress!" came that familiar gruff voice - the voice of the man who had taken her here.

"You filthy girl!" he shouts, climbing the stairs to where he has strung her out. He slaps her face. Instantly she turns, to spit at him, the saliva hissing between her painted red lips.

As he wipes the liquid from his eye, they both start at the creak of the heavy front door being forced open. He had arrived...

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

The New Assistant

Darla Simmons was new around the place. The Desire Advertising offices hadn't yet tainted her doe-eyed outlook with their tendency towards vice.

Like a painted doll, she sat at her desk outside Sebastian Jones' office. He was the predominantly-travel-bound-Regional Manager, and she, the personal assistant he'd not yet even met in person.

Nina Hanson, Accounts Manager, and general office seductress, had hired Darla. She'd made sure the young thing could read, write and make a decent cup of coffee and then hired her on the spot - ever the upstanding feminist that she was.

Though she appreciated the brilliant plumage of a sweet young bird as much as the next person, Nina's motives for hiring Darla were rarely that simple. She had a conniving dark mind, and by hiring something this tasty for Sebastian, she hoped to win his gratitude, perhaps even his affections.

And this evening, in their after hours meeting, Nina would pull her little ace from the sleeve...

Guest Writer Ignaga: Tongue Tied

This story was submitted to me by Ignaga, a contact of mine on Facebook.

So, thanks Ignaga, for this delicious little taste.

Love, licks and lashings,


I don't know how long I have been asleep on the sofa for, but when I come round it is dark, very dark. In fact, with the blindfold on I can not see anything. I go to pull it away from my eyes, and then I realise I am going nowhere, I can feel the bindings around my wrist. Not tight, but tight enough to keep me in place. Deprived of sight I strain my ears, hoping my other senses would somehow be able to get me free.

The Seduction of Diana

This is my take on a story that was told to me by a lovely young lady I talk with online - how she met her female lover.

When they talk about their loving relationship, it makes me my heart light up. So, D & S, this is for you. 

(I hope you don't mind that I've taken a little creative license with the details!)

With love, licks and lashings,



The bar was dimly lit: red lanterns sat over the bulbs that hung from the ceiling and filled the air with a deep sensuality.

Diana pours the last of the vodka mixer into her mouth, her red lipstick leaving a signature on the glass. The ice clinks as she places the empty tumbler on the table and looks across to her boyfriend, who is finishing up the last drops of his own drink.

"Another?" Diana suggests, sliding from the booth where they sat, and clutching her purse.

He shakes his head and she proceeds to the bar, edging past groups of happy drinkers. She notices an open space at the bar and heads towards it. The bar sticks to the bare skin of her arms as she leans against it, motioning for the attention of the bartender.

Beside her, the girl who she will eventually know as Stella, nudges in - squeezing between Diana and a man on her left. Stella leans towards Diana, speaking softly, but boldly.

"Heya," she starts, and Diana turns. "I saw you with that guy, and you looked wrong... I could make tonight special for you..."