Ooooh!Dark 30

Sex and War. Put 'em together, you get Marriage.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

At Loose Ends, Part One

This - -this is my first child, the one I brought forth with love and . . .well, I'm still proud of it. For those of you who have read my stories before. . .I'm starting at the beginning, then working my way up to newer selections as time goes on. Anyhow. . .I bring you my first Fan Fiction, At Loose Ends.

*T*

At loose Ends

Mac Taylor arrived at the apartment building in Midtown. Hawkes and Giles hadn’t been able to help, and the rest of the CSI team really didn’t have the experience to deal with such a strange case.

Cathy had been a member of the team from a while ago, and then left to work with the Museum of Natural history. Cathy was a literal genius, finishing college at 18, taking an extra year off to do some forensic work with the Vidoc Society before joining the NYPD’s Crime Scene Investigation Unit. Her Jamaican born parents would have preferred their youngest become a doctor. It was disturbing that Catherine found her niche working with the dead than with the living. But she found joy in Forensic work, and after ten years, she went on to work with the Museum, specializing in medieval lives and artifacts, inspecting remains of people and the objects they used. Mac had seen her become a thoughtful woman, from what was once a cocksure teenager. He’d seen her grow physically as well, once a borderline geek behind glasses to a total knockout. That thought resonated longer since he was now a widower. He knew he wasn’t being unfaithful, but he couldn’t resist the twinge of guilt along with lust. He put those thoughts aside as the elevator opened and he found her apartment at the end of the hall, and knocked on the door.

He heard a slight tumble, and the door opened. Cathy Reid stood there, wearing nothing but a white satin bra and panties and a fuzzy bathrobe. “Shit! Mac, you weren’t supposed to be here for another hour!”

He raised an eyebrow. “I can leave if you want, Cat, and we can do this later…”

“Chuh! Come in, dammit, it’s not like you’re stopping anything,” She grabbed his arm gently and showed him into her apartment, shutting the door. “Take off your jacket, I’ll change. There’s some Jack Daniels on the side table.”

“Alright,” Mac said with a smile. He had made her revert to her Jamaican patois, if but for a minute. He seemed to have that effect on her.

Cathy used the moment in her room to pull her self together and to pull on a pair of shorts and a tank top. She had hoped for the hour to herself to relax before seeing her old boss. She’d had an undeclared crush on him; one that fit with her mildly twisted desires. She felt herself moisten at the thought of submitting to, being possessed and conquered by Det. Mac Taylor.

She walked back into her front room, where he was settled with a glass of Jack, and an array of photos on her coffee table. She pulled a pillow from a chair and got on her knees on the opposite side of the table, facing him. “So, what is this great and mighty thing we are looking at?”

Mac was taken by surprise. Her eyes were somewhat at crotch level, and he felt his cock stiffen. He tried to focus. “Teenage girl found in Hell’s Kitchen. I’m sure you see the ligature marks-“

“Uh-huh.”

“We thought the method was manual strangulation, possibly during a sexual assault-“

“But there’s no bruising, and I’m betting the rape kit is inconclusive.” She leaned forward onto the table, affording Mac a view of her cleavage and full caramel breasts. He nodded, to agree with her assertions. She continued. “Sex was probably consensual and death may have been accidental. Hell’s Kitchen - -you’ve got sex clubs doing all kinds of kinky shit. Could be autoerotic asphyxiation -”

“I was gonna ask about that.”

“Shoot.” Her chest heaved, revealing her nipples starting to protrude through her tight tank top. Her deep brown eyes concentrated on his. He was beginning to think about how much she was teasing him.

“My question is these bruises on her back.” He passed her a picture of a milky white back with a series of deep purple circular bruises. Cathy didn’t bat an eye. She shifted and leaned back.

“It’s definitely medieval.”

“Ok, what is it?”

“It’s a rack. It explains the dislocation to her arms and leg sockets.” She thought about it. She ran her tongue along her lips and leaned over the coffee table, her hands supporting her as they squeezed her breasts together. “I can show you the principle behind it,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “I think it’ll help the case.”

His eyes wandered from her graceful neck to the swell of her breasts, her long brown legs, and back to that impudent mouth. Was she asking him to teach her a lesson? “Of course. You were always a hell of a tease, weren’t you, Catherine Reid?” He took her chin in her hands.

“Yes, sir.” Her eyes locked onto his light blue eyes, which served as a shocking contrast to his dark hair. She looked back at the table where the flask of Jack Daniels and its shot glass companions stood. His eyes followed hers. “Sir, you should open the drawer. I think I have all that’s needed for an accurate reconstruction.”

“Fine.” He got up and opened the drawer. There was a metal bar with a long chain, handcuffs, a blindfold, ball gag, a pair of jeweled clamps, a small chain, collar and leash, and a paddle. My, this girl is a little freak, he thought. “I’m guessing someone’s been naughty.” Lust and guilt were fighting with one another, and as the looked at the dark-skinned girl in front of him, lust was winning.

“Oh, you know I have, Detective Taylor.” she responded. She moved aside the pictures into a neat pile and stood on the coffee table, her hands extended toward a hook in the ceiling. He got onto the table with the chain, bar and handcuffs. Standing this close, he leaned in to kiss her, grabbing the back of her head forcefully. She obediently followed, he looped the chain over the hook, placed her hands over the bar, cuffing her in place as they continued kissing.

He pulled away and got off the coffee table. “What’s wrong with this picture?” He loosened his tie as he walked around Cathy, inspecting the scene. Cathy was now cuffed to a pipe, which hung from a double looped chain in the ceiling. She bit her lip as she looked at him pace like a lion facing its prey. He got on the table, and stood behind her, now pressing his raging hard on against her ass. “We have a nasty little slut chained up, about to be punished because of what a cock tease she is,” he whispered in her ear. “She’s rebellious,” as he slid his hand around to the front of her shorts, “She doesn’t listen, and I think-” as he ran a finger along her shaved pussy, “she’s wearing too many clothes.” He cut her tank off and pulled her shorts off. “Much better.” She leaned into Mac as he ran his fingers along the cup of the bra, easing a breast out. With his other hand, he reached to undo his pants, sliding them off along with his boxers. His cock now freed, he stroked it against the soft satin of her panties. He was getting turned on further by her soft moans that seemed to accompany every breath. He reached between her legs, feeling Cathy’s juices run over his fingers, as he stroked up to her clitoris. The moaning was getting louder.

“Mac . . . Sir, fuck me, please, oh, please!” She was begging. He got more turned on as her voice strained.

“Beg harder and see if I’m listening, little girl.” Teasing someone else for a change did feel good. He reached for one the jeweled clips and attached it to her erect nipple, now pulled taut between his fingers. Her ass now rubbed up against Mac’s swollen member. She was squeezing her thighs, nearly crushing his hand with the force, as he slid two fingers inside her, hard- in and out. “Is that how you want it?”

“Yes! Godammit, YES!” He had her screaming it, and her thighs loosened, and his hand didn’t feel so crushed. Mac leaned back and took a good look at her. She looked back. She hadn’t been broken yet. He got up close to her face, and her hungry lips took his in the form of a violent, devouring kiss. He pulled away from her mouth and slapped her lightly.

“Look in my eyes.” She didn’t move. “ Look up, dammit!” She finally met his gaze. “You don’t quit, do you?” She smiled, focusing her eyes on him seductively. Those eyes. Damn her. “Are you gonna stay still?”

She nodded.

He unlocked her handcuffs and locked them back into place. “On your knees.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mac got off the table and looked at Cathy, and reached for the leash and paddle. “You planned this out, didn’t you?” She didn’t meet his eyes.

“Tell the truth, you little cocktease.” He buckled the leash around her neck and

gave it a gentle tug up for her to look at him. Mac then slid off the table and she followed obediently, on her hands and knees, her ponytail unraveling, tendrils of her hair framing her face. Watching this woman he had lusted after in such a position turned him on. Mac had never done anything like this and he wanted to savor this experience. He now drew himself to his full height. He wasn’t very tall, but just tall enough for his hard cock to reach her mouth. He ran his fingers through her hair as she looked up at him, then gave her thick hair a good pull back. Her mouth opened and he slid his cock into her moist, waiting mouth. She was so open, so warm as Cathy wrapped her tongue around his throbbing member and started to flick the head.

He yanked her hair. “Tease. Suck my cock like a good girl, Cathy. Don’t make me have to spank you.” Her mouth opened wider, accepting more of him. Slowly, he saw the look in her eyes change into one of sheer lust as she took up her own rhythm as she moved her lips slowly up and down his shaft. She moved her bound hands along his inner thigh; the warm skin and the cold metal making him tingle. She finally started to stroke his cock as her mouth worked the now exquisitely sensitive organ. Cathy was bringing Mac closer, and he wasn’t ready!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It's only part one, I know. I'm sure you can wait long enough for the rest. :)

*Taylor*

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

And a Good Morning to you too!

I never thought I'd write a blog...well, this isn't really a blog. This is a journal of stories of an adult nature, the occasional news clipping. . .and just generally a spot for me to kick back, and share some of my stuff with you, and you share your ideas with me.

I'm Taylors Acolyte, and I'll be your host and guide.

I'll divide my stories into two categories: FanFiction and Non-Fan-Fiction.

Fan Fiction: I am a CSI:NY fan. . .loved this show from the get go for one very important reason:The Man in the Picture- -
(It's also why I'm called TaylorsAcolyte)
You may think that's odd, or that , good lord, He's FIFTY- - but, if you want average-guy-sexy, Sinise is your man. Hell, I wish he were my man... Someone tell my Devil-Dog I'm kidding.

Anyhow, so I write CSI:NY fan fiction of an erotic nature. That makes me a geek. So sue me.

But... I said TWO kinds of erotica, right?

Non-Fan-Fiction: I admit it's mostly interracial hooking up (if you don't like it, tough) But I admit I can be nebulous enough (Sometimes) that any woman/man can partake in the fantasies I weave. If you have requests, leave them. If you have a suggestion, post it. It only makes me a better writer. . .no, really, it does. :)

I'm all about giving the people what they want - -(most of the time)

But you came for the erotica, right? He's the rest.

A little about myself: I'm in college, I'm addicted to the internet and sugar, and I like to write good dirty stories. I have a boyfriend, who is in the USMC (ooh-RAH!) and he gave me the idea for this blog's title.

For those of you who do not know the term, Oh-Dark-30, it means. . .really fucking early in the morning. For me personally, it brings me back to a really shitty hostel room off broadway and really loud sex.(for the rest of you on the 3rd floor, I'm sorry, he's just good likethat)

Anyhow. . . you just want me to post the dirty stories,don't you?

I'll do it tomorrow. ;)

*Taylor*