Enraptured

Erotic model with  metal chain around neck

She lay beneath him, a finger deep in her pussy, another hooked around the chain between the nipple clamps, pulling on them, her tits pulled and distended from her body, knowing how much he loved the sight of it. She was performing for him.

He stood on his knees, between her legs, stroking his cock as he watched her, a pearl of pre-cum dripping down the tip of his cockhead with languid slowness. He saw the look in her eyes. He was performing for her.

They were bound in an ever-tightening net of desire, she watching him, he watching her, each performing for the other. Each the sculptor, each the stone.

He reached down to slide two fingers deep inside her, moistening them, using her juices to lubricate his hand as he jerked off. She pulled more tightly on the chain, her nipples thickening, her skin reddening. She arched her back, her head lolling, exposing her neck for him. He knew she was about to cum; it spurred his own gathering orgasm. She cried out, her body corkscrewing beneath him. He moaned low as hot white plumes of cum spewed into the air, onto her belly, her tits, the sparkling metal clamps that held her nipples tightly entrapped, her body helplessly enraptured.

from Click

1953437213-0c7a6f81-c227-4131-98d8-4f87cc0ac1c5She loved dressing up for him, wearing anything he asked, making herself into a fetish doll, a sex toy. Anything he asked. Fishnet thigh highs, fishnet gloves. Collars and leashes. Thick, whorish makeup. He didn’t ask every time, but he did often. He found his mind took a series of photographs when she dressed like this, snapping away as he climbed her, rolled her, fucked her, used her: click, click, click.

He wondered what part of his mind was taking those photographs: the porn-y, objective part that loved seeing her dressed as his perfect fantasy woman, the part that worshiped thigh highs and chains and nipple clamps, or the emotive part of his mind that loved her for wanting to be the vehicle for all his desires, for taking on whatever role he requested. He’d switch back and forth, one moment fully immersed in the experience, the next slightly distanced as he watched her transform herself into his literal fantasies, mirroring his inner sexual life with uncanny, shape-shifting skill.

They had tried documenting their fucking with a cellphone a few times, and while taking the pictures was hot, the result was flat and insubstantial. Looking at them afterward was arousing only because the images were a talisman from the moment, taken while the moment was actual and happening. They were not the same as the pictures he took with his mind while they were fucking; those pictures were living breathing things, fully fleshed the instant they breached his waking mind.

 – from Click, by J G Cain

from Bound

19494395523_3463f2d0b3_b“The lights were off, but the shades were open. A thin crescent moon lingered below the window, flinging a small fistful of grey moonlight through the glass, throwing pewter shadows across the generic hotel room set pieces: desk, two chairs and table, television, dresser, bed. The limited amount of light threw the features of the room into muddy black and white, but for the striking exception of the red leather collar she wore around her neck, the chain link of the leash glinting mischievously in the dim light.

She knelt before him, head bowed, her hair spilling forward. Her wrists crossed unseen behind her back. A small flower adorned the side of her head, tucked behind her ear. In addition to the collar and the leash, she wore black fishnets, petite silver earrings, a long strand of pearls. Nothing else. The room was dark enough so it seemed she wasn’t so much kneeling on the carpet, but planted in it, the fishnet transformed by light and shadow into root-like shapes, tendrils reaching up her legs. He could not see her pussy, as it too was shrouded in shadow, but he could smell it, keenly.

He followed the flow of her body with his eyes, moving up her legs to the silhouette of her hips, heady curves flaring out, then coursing in toward her waist before skirting out again. He felt more than saw the yearning in her breasts, waiting for his touch, nipples hard, skin flushed. His gaze lingered on the white slope of her shoulders, the regal line of her neck, the fragile grace of her collarbones like the wings of birds.

He approached her, stood over her. He touched his index finger to her chin, lifted her head, until she met his eyes.”

– from Bound, by J G Cain

Welcome to Serious Moonlight

Serious Moonlight

Serious Moonlight on Amazon

Every Friday for the next year, from Valentine’s Day 2019 to Valentine’s Day 2020, Serious Moonlight will release a new erotic flash fiction story.

Serious Moonlight is the home of smart and sexy flash fiction erotica by J G Cain.  Hot, playful, loving, subversive, humorous, theatrical, sex-positive and literate: it’s all in the mix.

Serious Moonlight tells the story of a man and a woman who are curious, creative, sexually adventurous and deeply in love. These stories push often hardcore BDSM up against loving and tender exchanges. They make no distinction between what is dirty and what is sweet, what is brutal and what is gentle, what is play and what is real, what is love and what is lust.

I hope you will join us in the moonlight.