Femme Fatale Spicy Audio Story by Salty Vixen

Welcome to another episode of Bedtime Stories with Salty Vixen. Tonight’s story is titled “Femme Fatale”. Dear My Doctor, My Alpha Male, My Dom, Sir, do you recall the sound of my pleasure, my breath and my voice as I come?

Do you remember the way I exhale your name as I tease my clitoris, as I finger my cunt?

Do you recollect the ragged whispers, the moans, my half-spoken pleas, as your hands take hold of my hips, as you drive your burnished glans into my depths, as your kiss finds my lips, as you fuck me, possess me with a sweet savagery that leaves me captivated, addicted, obsessed?

Do you remember? Do you recall?

They were the very sounds that filled this room as I touched myself and thought of you, as time stopped and space closed itself in, as my body arched off the chair, as my orgasm crashed over me, as the air was overwhelmed with the scent of sex and the cry of my passion, as my want and desire and need for you clawed through the pretense, crawled up through my core, rose up through this flesh, returning to haunt me, to taunt this woman once again.

Oh Doctor! You know why I write BDSM stories, don’t you? Yes, you do. All from our conversations….I miss that so fucking much. I am sure you do as well… Let’s begin…

There’s something you need to know…my female hormones are raging and I am horny as FUCK. I want to be in power tonight. I want to be YOUR Mistress again, Doctor. I miss you.

I care little for your ruin. In fact, it’s the very thing I want to secure.

I want to spend, devour and break you. I want to feast on your flesh, leaving nothing for another. I want to strip away every vestige of your self-control.

I want to stroke your shaft, feel the weight of your thickening and hardening glans, your flesh throbbing, insistent, incessant, my thumb smearing the first pearl of precum across your burnished head, my soft mouth following suit to envelope you, savor you, suck you until I feel the first surge of your seed glossing my lips, my tongue.

I want to entwine my fingers around your naked cock, part the plump lips of my sex and feed you into my sodden cunt with an aching slowness that will leave you begging for swiftness, pleading for the knowledge of my pulsing depths.

I want to fuck you with a languid sensuality, with fire and anger and urgency, my lithe body arching above you as I feel your come erupting violently inside me, coating the velvet of my cunt with its slickness, as I clutch at you, milking every last precious drop, as I orgasm over and again hotly over your cock.

I want to kiss your mouth, inhale your breath, swallow your groan, my whispered name, your wanton words.

I want to leave you a shivering mess.

But more than this, I want – need – your crazed passion, the intensity of your lust to rise up, to scream though your skin, to exact its own revenge upon me, to tear my desire for you to shreds, to crush me by the same pitiless means, annihilating this hunger, this craving for good.