Scentsual , livre ebook

Andrews UK - Victoria Blisse

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22 pages

English

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Scentsual is a femdom story written by leading erotic author Victoria Blisse and set in the seaside town of Scarborough... Kelly is dominant and has a heightened sense of smell, so many of her memories, thoughts and feelings revolve around scents. She meets Rob on a trip to Scarborough and seduces him; their lust is instant but is Rob the submissive man Kelly really needs to fall in love with? This excellent title from House of Erotica has been specially formatted for today's e-readers.

Sujets

Erotic literature

Informations

Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	13 mars 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781849893275
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Title Page
Scentsual

Victoria Blisse

Publisher Information
Scentsual
published in 2014 by House of Erotica
an imprint of Andrews UK Limited
www.houseoferoticabooks.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © Victoria Blisse 2014
The right of Victoria Blisse to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Scentsual
As soon as I stepped off the train I was soothed by the scents, even in the middle of town. I could smell the sea, a light, crisp edge to the cool breeze and the fish and chip shops left a vinegar tang to the air. The smell took me back to my childhood, when we used to come here for our holidays. We spent a week in Scarborough each year. My parents loved the sights and sounds. I fell in love with the smells. The sweetness of donuts, the sharp salt on the breeze, the comforting odour of the damp sand beneath my feet. I regularly visit my childhood sanctuary to rest in the comforting scents and take in the familiar sights. It is my escape when work just becomes too much for me.
Despite being late September, the town was busy. I walked down the main hill, enjoying the thrill of being on holiday. We all get it, from being a kid to being a pensioner; that surge of joy and energy as we realise this is it, now we can do what the hell we want. We’re on holiday.
I dropped off my bag at the small bed and breakfast I always used. I craved the scents of my childhood, but as I aged I also craved the softness of a real bed and the warmth of brick. I was well past the age of caravanning even ten years ago, and now I appreciate the comforts of life all the more. I do have my attachments to The Empire, though. The first time I stayed here, I fell in love with the clean smell of polish and old pot-pourri. The first morning I woke in my room at The Empire to the smell of bacon, sausage and egg clinched it for me. It pervaded every floor of the tall building in the mornings. It smelled like a home.
I met a guy, that first time I roomed at the Empire. Tom, he was called. He was a young lad, around eighteen, and he was reluctantly on holiday with his parents. We met up in the lounge one morning, where I was seduced by his sweet, soapy smell and his candour.
I took his virginity, in the middle of the day as he faked a headache to avoid the monotony of a wet afternoon looking at museums. He was willing and eager and oh so pliant. When I think of him, a shot of desire runs straight to my pussy and I get the urge to stop and masturbate wherever I am. His innocence was delicious and the scent of his new, barely used cock was a delight.
***
I was deep in thought as I walked down the hill to the sea front. I was trying to remember every detail of that encounter. I found, to my horror, that I couldn’t remember it all. Then I realised it had happened almost ten years ago. I felt old, I felt fat and I felt lonely.
Sometimes, when you stop for a break the things you work so hard to avoid pile in on you unannounced. That is what happened to me. I was completely unaware of the bustle around me, the smell of the chip shop and the increased tang of salt in the air. I just sat on a bench and let the negative emotions run over me.
I was thirty-six and still alone. I had never had a long term, serious relationship. People told me I was scared of commitment but I was not, no. I was just easily bored and seeking out a very unique individual indeed. I’m dominant. Not just in my sex life but at work and home, too. It takes a very submissive character to complement me. It is why I have risen to the top of my chosen career so quickly. I hate being subordinate to anyone.
That I was subordinate to my emotions and desires annoyed me. I wanted to be in a relationship, I wanted to have someone to go home to every night. Not that Suki, my cat, wasn’t warm and cuddly. But come on, I didn’t want to be a lonely cat lady all my life.
Not only was I dominant, I was curvy. When you see photos of dominant women in the media they are thin, twig-like figures more often than not. Not me. I have big hips and large boobs, I always have. The other parts started to fill out when I reached my twenties and although I still had a waist, you’d be pushed to call what I had an hour-glass figure.
I knew I was still attractive; tall and toned enough to pull in the one-night stand guys. I knew how to dress to show off the good curves and my make up accentuated my large green eyes and plump lips. I was attractive, I knew it, but relationships still eluded me.
I was lost in my cloud of despondency when I caught a hint of excitement on the breeze. It was the mellow tang of leather that first caught my attention, followed by a cinnamon and citrus combination that blew my mind. I looked up from my sullenness and smiled.
He was a young man. I guessed he was at least 10 years my junior. He was freshly shaven and his hair was just long enough to fall on his face as he looked down at the ground between his black-booted feet. His skin was milky and soft; the contrast between his white cheek and worn, brown leather jacket was like art.
I wanted to reach out and touch him. I wanted to bury my face in the crook of his neck, to suck in that sensual, masculine smell. I was completely taken over by him. I knew my window of opportunity was small. He may have stood up and walked away at any moment, so I looked for some opening. His hand was on the bench next to me, clenched around the edge as if he were holding on for dear life. I reached out and put my hand over his.
“Oh, I am sorry.” I smiled as he turned his head towards me. “I didn’t see your hand there.” I squeezed it gently before pulling mine away.
“Oh, don’t worry.” He smiled back at me, nervously. His eyes were gloriously deep brown, matching his coat and his hair. I was in lust, and I could see a glimmer of something in the way he was looking at me, too.
“So, are you waiting for your wife to come out of the shops?” I asked, wanting to clear up the question of his attachment right away.
“No.” he replied, his eyebrow rising in confusion. Every slight move wafted more of that enchanting leather scent my way.
“Oh, girlfriend then. Sorry.”
“No, I’m single. Are you waiting for your...” I could see him struggling for the right word. “Mate?”
“Well, yes. But I don’t actually currently have one. I’m on the lookout for someone special.”
“Oh,” he gulped. He had unconsciously turned his body to face me. With each passing moment he leant closer.
“Yes,” I replied, in little more than a whisper. “I need a man desperately.”
I licked my lips and arched my brows, cupping his hand with mine again. This was the moment, the make or break moment, and I hoped with all my heart that he would succumb to my advances.
“Well, I am a man.” He cleared his throat and shifted on the uncomfortable slats. I couldn’t see, but I guessed his cock had just jumped in his casual jeans. “Will I do?”
“I think you might.” I traced my finger lazily across the taut skin of his hand and looked down between our bodies. “But I have to warn you that my needs are physical. I need a man who is willing to please me.” I paused and looked up, fixing his gaze to mine. “Sexually.”
To give him his due, his gaze held mine for two or three long seconds before he was forced to look down. I was impressed.
“So, Can you help me?”
He looked up again and nodded.
“Oh, good. Are you doing anything right now?”
“No,” he replied, “Just, you know, wandering.”
“Want to wander down to the front with me?”
Partly, I wanted to stretch out the anticipation. I also wanted to test him a little more. He seemed fairly submissive, but fairly would not be good enough for me in this mood. Mostly though, I had promised myself an ice cream from Jaconelli’s and I was going to get it.
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’ll buy you an ice-cream.” I smiled seductively and grasped his hand in mine.
“A Jaconelli’s?”
“Of course,” I smiled. “What else?”
What else, indeed. There are many ice-cream sellers along the sea front, but only one that sells the creamiest ice cream that smells like wicked cream and saintly vanilla. You can only buy a Lemon top at Jaconelli’s and I love the sour contrast of sorbet against the comforting blanket of cold sweetness.
He laughed and stood beside me. My heart thumped in my chest, so hard it was painful. Normally, I did not care if I got a yay or a nay from a man. I could go on to another and pick him up. But this guy was different, I felt more than want; I needed him to come with me.
“So, are you here on holiday?” I asked as we strolled past the novelty shops towards the salty wash of the sea.
“Yeah, well, a day trip really. Needed to blow the cobwebs out of my brain, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. Same for me, but I’m here ‘til Monday.”
“Do you mind if I ask your name?” He asked it with a nervous smile.
“I’m Kelly, but you can call me Mistress.”
He blushed. His pale cheeks looked good heated up. I knew his butt cheeks would look even better in my favourite shade of just-spanked pink.
“Okay, Mistress.” His reply was nervous, but the smile stuck to his lips. “My name is Rob.”
“Okay, Rob. I might forget that, so is it okay if I just call you ‘boy’?”
“Sure.”