Different Loving
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The authors of Different Loving are happy to announce the two winners of our first Erotic Fiction Contest Stories Selected by Will Brame: Judge, Jury, Sole Executioner, and The Guy to Blame If You've Got a Problem (But, please, feel free to praise Gloria and Jon)


FIRST PLACE: "ROSES," by NATASHA KATRINA, a mysterious young woman from the rainy Northwest. Her prize-winning story is the bittersweet tale of farewell between a submissive and her master. SECOND PLACE: "LEAVE IT TO BEAVER: The Lost Episode," by BIG JOHN, the property of a sensual dominatrix from the Southeast. Everything you ever wanted to know about the Cleaver household, but were too squicked to ask. A comic wetdream for the sitcom generation.



First Place Winner
ROSES by Natasha Katrina

I readjusted the white pillows on my white sofa, anxious that the small apartment should look perfect for him. I couldn't believe I was this nervous over saying goodbye, but then he had always made me feel edgy and that was one of the reasons I was breaking it off. I smoothed my skirt and checked my hair yet again in the mirror. Everything seemed to be ready, in place. Good. I shooed Sophie, my big white Persian cat, off the dining table and pushed her rudely outside into the early evening sun. I didn't want any distractions--I had to keep my head clear to say all those things I had rehearsed.

The doorbell! Oh god, I thought, don't hurry to it, walk slowly, take a breath, all right, now smile and open the door.

"Hello, please come in," I heard myself saying smoothly, automatically. "Did you have any trouble finding the place?" I had always gone to his place with its wonderfully private garden in the country. He liked being at his place, having all his toys at hand. I felt my mouth twitch slightly at that thought.

"Hello, you look great. I brought you some flowers," he said as he handed me a bunch of deep red roses tied with a wide satin bow. I recognized them from his own garden, and that made me warm to him as I hadn't in a long time.

"They're beautiful," I said, inhaling their fragrance deeply. "Thank you, Sean. You really didn't have to...." I trailed off as I began to move to the kitchen to put them in water.

"I wanted to bring them for you. Something to remember me by," he said, smiling his most seductive smile. I stopped in my tracks and my gaze met his. I loved the way his eyes wrinkled when he smiled. He really was quite handsome and could be so utterly charming. I began to wonder why it was that I wanted to break it off with him. Bringing the roses was such a romantic touch, so gallant, so sweet. I could feel my heart beating in my chest and I was sure he would notice my flushed cheeks. He noticed everything. I felt myself grinning like a fool and lowered my eyes to look at the bundle of roses in my hands. Some were just buds and were so dark they seemed black, others were beginning to open into full red-rose glory and pride. This is what I wanted from him, I thought, this tender side which he's kept hidden from me.

Sean took the roses gently from my hand and untied the silky red ribbon holding them together. He rustled the bundle and pulled out a beautiful full blossom, its redness vibrating in the shadowy room. He set the roses down on the coffee table and began tracing the outline of my cheek and jaw with the single bloom. Its lush softness felt like velvet-gloved fingers on my skin. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the feeling. He continued touching me lightly with the rose, sending tingles around my body wherever the petals kissed me; my neck, my shoulder, my arm, my hands.

"Please take off your clothes," he said softly, and because I was already wet and excited and in the habit of obeying this man's requests, I began slipping my blouse off and my skirt down. This will be the last command of his I obey, I thought, the last of many. I was removing my bra and slip automatically, thinking how simple it was to just allow Sean to control me, to turn myself over to his commands and let him guide my body to its own pleasures with no guilt, no choices, no worries. Those feelings came later, after, and partly because of the intensity of my animal-lust during those times Sean overwhelmed me. I didn't want to need him this much. One last time, I thought.

Soon I was standing before him, naked in the dusky pink light of the beginning of sunset. I watched Sean examining me, appraising my slender waist, my small breasts with their erect nipples, my curly triangle of pubic hair which was just as dark as my shoulder-length black hair, my pale skin glowing in the warm light.

When I was completely naked he pushed me down onto the brightly white sofa. I lay back and Sean stroked my eyelids with the rose, forcing my eyes shut. I was concentrating on the feel of the rose petals, silently urging them down my belly and between my legs. Sean rubbed the flower petals on my sex so gently, with such patient strokes, that I knew he was going to make me cum tonight. It felt incredible. The softness of the rose and his rhythmic stroking movements were simply wonderful. I basked in his attention, luxuriated in his complete focus on my body. The rose was so lightly touching me that it nearly tickled. Sean brushed it up my belly to my throat and onto my face. I grabbed a petal between my lips and felt the velvety texture, smelled the musky fragrance of his dark red roses once again. The scent reminded me of games we had played in Sean's secluded garden, alone and unobserved.

I opened my eyes and was almost hypnotized by the beauty of the rose against my pale skin in the darkening room. In the half light the petals looked dark as blood, nearly black. By contrast I looked almost as white as the sofa cushions. I watched the rose petting my skin oh-so-softly and wanted more. I was flowing wetly, ready to be entered, but still the rose rubbed my sex softly. I arched my hips upward, tensing my muscles like an athlete, but the delicate petals just bent and did not give me the firm pressure I needed. Desire began to control me. I kept my eyes closed and said quietly, "Please, more?" but Sean didn't change a thing. I moved my own hand down to the rose to relieve some of my tension but as soon as I touched my sex Sean grabbed my hand and pulled it above my head. Before I could react he had both my wrists tied above my head, tied with the ribbon from the roses.

But this was supposed to be goodbye, I thought, before the demands of my body became too loud in my head to allow real thoughts.

Sean touched me, guided me to turn over, saying as if he had read my mind, "Now you'll get your goodbye. Something to remember me by," he repeated.

I saw him grab those lovely velvet-red roses. "What..." I thought, and maybe spoke aloud, and then I felt it, a gentle slapping on my thighs and buttocks. I squirmed, unable to believe I was so aroused by him when I had made up my mind to break it off. "I don't want..." I began but he pushed the roses in my face, almost in my mouth, and whispered right into my ear, "I know what you want. This is what you want. You know I can give you what you want." His voice, so deep and husky, brought me close to cumming. His breath was warm and moist and I remembered his tongue wrapping around my clitoris. The sickly-sweet smell of hybrid roses filled my nose while memories of delicious tortures in his garden filled my thoughts; orgasms he had coaxed from me while I was tied and blindfolded in that garden, bound and sweetly tormented, and the faint perfume of these same roses were the background to my struggles. Sean resumed whipping me with the roses and I wriggled under him, enjoying my excitement, trying to spread my legs wider so that the rosebuds could reach my most sensitive hidden places.

"Oh!" I cried out, pricked with pain. It must be a thorn. Oh god. I was suddenly afraid and this, to my shame, made me even wetter and more aroused. I realized why he had brought me these roses from his own garden. It was not a sweet or romantic gesture, it was because of the thorns. Thorns are clipped in florist shops. Oh god, he had thought of this, he thought of everything. His control over my responses seemed so certain, so wickedly complete. This thought brought me even closer to cumming. I craved it, needed it desperately. I began rubbing my clitoris on the sofa. Of course he forbade it.

"Not yet," he said softly, "You always were such an eager little slut. You need to learn patience."

"Please no," I begged, my voice muffled by the sofa cushion, but it was too late. The thorns were biting into me with each cleverly placed smack. Petals began falling as his strokes became more violent. Deep red rose petals gently fell onto my bare skin, onto the white sofa, onto the floor below. The pain which began stabbing my thighs and buttocks with each stroke, that pain increased and mingled with a deliciously forbidden enjoyment of the rose blooms lapping at my cunt. My pain shifted into sudden, immense pleasure. He growled in that familiar way, "Cum now!" and shoved two fingers just inside my very wet cunt. One last time, I obeyed his order and came all over his hand. I melted into the sofa, into his strong arms.

When I could breathe and speak again I asked, "May I sit up?" Wordlessly Sean untied the red ribbon and moved away, cold and hard and unreadable. I opened my eyes and looked at him in the near-dark.

"Do what you like, this is goodbye, remember?" He seemed so distant. As I sat up my bottom stung and I moaned quietly.

I stood, knees shaking just a bit, wanting to plead for him to stay but when I glanced at the sofa it was stained with a mixture of deep red rose petals and my own blood. Each red mark was nearly indistinguishable from the others as all color faded from the room and turned into shades of gray. I felt sick. It was too much, too far, and I needed to be alone.

"Then goodbye," I said but my voice betrayed me by ended with a questioning tone as he walked out the door. I thought I heard him say something as he closed the door, but I'm not sure even now. I sat alone in the dark for a long time after he left, still naked, fingering a broken flower.

Sean was right, he did indeed give me something to remember him by. I'll never be able to see a rose without thinking of him.




Second Place Winner
Leave It To Beaver: The Lost Episode by Big John

Scene: a typical night in the Cleaver household. Ward sitting in his easy chair reading the paper, June sitting at the end of the couch doing some mending, and the boys, Wally and Beaver, are sitting on the floor watching TV. The big mantle clock strikes eight times.

"Boys, it's eight o'clock, time for bed," Ward said, folding his paper.

"OK, Dad," Wally said.

"Gee, Dad," Beaver whined, "do we have to go right now? Tomorrow's Saturday and there's no school or anything."

"You heard your father, Beaver," June said with just a hint of severity.

"OK, Mom," Beaver said. "Gee!"

The boys got up and turned the TV off and headed for the stairs. "Goodnight, boys!" June called after them.

"Goodnight, Mom, goodnight, Dad."

"Goodnight, fellas," Ward answered with a fond chuckle, puffing clouds of cherry-scented smoke from his briar pipe.

Scene: Wally and Beaver start up the stairs.

"I get the bathroom first," Wally announced.

"No you don't, it's my turn to go first," Beaver protested.

"You went first this morning, remember?" Wally rolled his eyes. "For crying out loud, Beav, whaddaya do in there all that time?"

"Oh yeah, you're right, Wally," Beaver said, blank-faced with innocence. "Well, at least let me get Billy out of the sink."

"Billy's in the sink?" Wally rolled his eyes again. "Why'd ya put your frog in the sink?"

Beaver shrugged. "Because he was getting tired of being in my pocket."

"You little goof-ball! Next time put him in the bathtub, there's more room."

"Gee, I never thought of that, thanks Wally."

Scene: downstairs. As the bedroom door slams shut upstairs, Ward looks over the top of his paper and says "Your roast was excellent tonight, dear."

"Why, thank you, Ward. I was in the kitchen all afternoon," June replied without looking up from her sewing.

"The boys and I could tell you put a lot of time into it. Even Beaver said something."

"Well, I'm glad everyone enjoyed it, the only bad thing is that there's still a sink full of dishes and a kitchen to be cleaned up."

"Well" Ward said, never lifting his eyes from his paper, "soon as you're finished with your mending over there I suggest you get busy. Those dishes aren't going to get washed and put away by themselves."

June said nothing but continued to darn the socks laying on the couch next to her. Fifteen minutes later she said "Well, that's done for another week." As she put the socks and sewing kit into a basket she continued "Let me go change my clothes and get the dishes taken care of."

"All right, dear," Ward responded absently, engrossed in the paper. It was right about the time Ward started reading the financial section. He was deeply engrossed in how well his stocks did that day, so engrossed in fact that he barely heard his wife come into the room. June, having changed her plain cotton housedress and slippers for a black leather mini skirt, bra top and thigh high boots, slowly walked over to Ward who was only distantly aware of his wife's prescence. As she quietly fastened a three inch wide leather slave collar around Ward's neck he asked "Is it time?" never missing a word in the article he was reading.

"Yes dear, it's time," June cooed as she snapped a leash onto the now locked collar. She tugged sharply on the leash and snapped "Come along!" in a firm, almost harsh voice.

Ward put the paper down, rose to his feet, placed his hands behind his back and held them there as his wife led him through the house and into their bedroom. June settled regally on the end of the bed and watched as Ward stripped off everything and put it all away. In a matter of moments Ward was standing in front of June totally naked, hands behind his back and head bowed in a posture of humility.

"Are you keeping your legs and body completely hairless like I commanded?" June asked, sweeping his body with a disdainful glance.

"Yes Mistress June," Ward said humbly, his gaze cast meekly to the floor.

"Get over here and let me inspect you! If I find so much as one hair, well, you'll be sorry." June ran her hands up and down Wards legs and over his chest, hoping to find at least one hair. Somewhat disappointed she said, "Not too bad. Make sure your body stays hairless!"

After looking him up and down one more time June said "We're in need of a maid tonight, so that's how I'm going to dress you. Your uniform and things are over there on the chair." Ward quietly answered "Yes, Mistress June," and walked over to inspect the things that his Mistress expected him to wear that evening. Sifting throught the pile of frilly things he found some black lace panties, bra, garterbelt, black seamed stockings, the embarrasingly short maids uniform and a pair of black spike- heeled shoes. June sat silently as she watched Ward dress himself. As he was finishing up and stepping into the high heels June said, "You'd better hurry along Ward, you've got a mountain of dishes and a kitchen to clean up before the company arrives."

"C-company Mistress June?"

"That's right Ward, guests. I invited the Rutherfords over for drinks, it's Fred's birthday today. I found out from talking with Martha that Fred gets a bit turned on when he see's a nice pair of legs wearing some beautifully high heels. That's why I put you in those 5 inch spikes. Thought I'd give Fred a little birthday present and let him get a big old hard on watching you mince around in those all night. As I recall, the last time he saw you like this you were wearing just a plain old pair of little mid heeled pumps, and those kept him horney most of the night. I can hardly wait to see what he does tonight. My little slave may have her hands full!"

June took a few seconds to inspect Ward's, uniform. Picking up a riding crop and slapping it menacingly against the palm of her hand she said "now tell me, what do you think of my idea? Since you're his business partner it's only fair that YOU be the one to turn him on a little. If it means you spending the night perched on a pair of uncomfortably high heels, well, so be it, right?"

"Yes Mistress June," a rather submissive Ward replied. "I think it's a great idea."

"I knew you'd see things my way," she chuckled. "Now march your ass out to the kitchen and get busy! They'll be here soon!" Ward minced off to the kitchen and June went into the living room and made herself comfortable in Ward's easy chair. It wasn't very long before June heard a very loud 'crash' come from the kitchen. "Shit, what'd that sissy do now?"

When June entered the kitchen she saw Ward squatting down in the middle of the floor, busily picking up the broken shards of what used to be a platter.

"That was my grandmother's serving platter!" June shrieked.

"I-I-I'm sorry June, er Mistresss June," a now very scared Ward replied "I was drying it and it just slipped out ....."

"QUIET!" June shouted very angrily. After taking a few seconds to compose herself she said through gritted teeth, "Get this mess cleaned up! I'm going back into the other room where there's no sniveling bitches to distract me and think up a suitable punishment for you."

"Yes Mistress June" Ward replied meekly.

"Shit! If it isn't the fucking kids it's the sissy boy giving me problems," June's voice trailed off as she left the kitchen. It took Ward a little over a half hour to completely clean up the kitchen and put everything away. Ward paused for a second before entering the living room and hoped that his wife's anger has cooled off a little. Finally, after mustering up a little courage, he entered the room.

"I'm done in the kitchen, Mistress June."

Without looking up from her paper she said, "Did you get some chips and dip and some other snacky stuff ready?"

"No, Mistress June," Ward said, gulping.

"Well, you'd better get back in there and do it. They'll be here shortly."

Just as Ward was about to leave the room June said, "A woman's work is never done, is it Ward?"

"No, Mistress June!" Ward answered with fervent agreement.

He just got the last of the snacks ready when the door bell rang. "Ward! Answer the door!" June called out. Ward minced to the front door, opened it and allowed the Rutherfords to come in, wishing the floor would open to swallow him.

"Why, Ward! You're looking very cute tonight," Martha Rutherford said teasingly, her matronly face transformed by a wicked smile.

Blushing, Ward replied, "Thank you, Mrs Rutherford."

Following his wife in was Fred Rutherford, who halted to give Ward a lingering glance. "Ward old man, you look pretty hot tonight. Nice legs!"

"Thank you Mr Rutherford" Ward answered, turning beet red. He followed the guests into the living room.

"Martha, Fred," June said "glad you could make it. Come in and have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable while Ward gets you something to drink." Martha, Fred and June sat and talked and joked, while June kept Ward busy tending to their drinks and making sure there was enough to eat. As the evening progressed, Fred very rarely took his eyes off Ward's legs and shoes. It wasn't long before there was a noticeable bulge in his pants. When there was a lull in the conversation June said, "You know folks, I've got a bit of a problem. Shortly before you arrived Ward broke a serving platter that belonged to my grandmother. My problem is how should properly punish Ward so she won't do anything like that again?"

With a chuckle Martha quipped, "Looks like my Fred here has a little problem too. Look at that bulge!" She pointed at his crotch.

"Did Ward do that to you Fred?" June asked with mock sympathy.

"Well, yes" Fred replied clearing his throat, "it's the shoes I'm afraid. Seeing him mince around all night in those beautiful heels... Well, I can't help myself."

"Ward! Get your sissy ass in here NOW!" June barked. Ward entered, setting down another bowl of chips with a hopeful glance. Realizing by the snickering of their guests that more was wanted than a replenishment of snack food, he whispered, "Yes, Mistress June?"

"We've got two items of business to take care of," June stated. "First is the matter of the platter you broke, and the other is what you did to poor Fred."

A little puzzled Ward said, "What did I do to Mr. Rutherford?"

"Just look at his crotch and you'll see!" June said firmly. 'The man comes here as a guest, happy and content, and now look at him, he's so horney he could burst! You're not only a clumsy bitch, but a slutty cockteaser too!"

"What are you going to do with him, June?" Martha asked eagerly as she tackled taking off Freds pants and shorts.

"I don't know, but I think I'm getting an idea. Fred, you and Ward share a private office, don't you?"

"Why yes, June, we do. Completely private, no windows or anything. Ward and I wanted it that way so we wouldn't be disturbed."

"Excellent" June purred as she smiled wickedly. "Alright, here's what's going to happen. Ward, from now on, you will no longer wear underwear or socks. Instead, you'll be wearing pretty little panties and pantyhose. Some days I might let you be a real sexy and wear a garterbelt and nylons. In your briefcase you'll be carrying those pretty little shoes you have on now. When Fred gets into the office you'll have his coffee waiting for him and you'll serve it to him, wearing only your new lingerie and heels. Since Fred likes those shoes so much, you'll remain in those pumps ALL DAY long. If he should get a hard on it'll be your job to take care of it for him."

"Great idea, June" Martha said, "but that still leaves the problem poor Fred has now. Look how big and hard he is!" Martha slowly stroked Fred's cock for a few seconds before June spoke up.

"Ward, go over and kneel down in front of Fred."

Ward slowly went over to the couch and sank to his knees.

"Look at what you did to Fred," June said severely.

Martha sneered. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Ward Cleaver, acting like a whore just to get my husband horney. You're nothing but a cockteaser, that's what you are," Martha told Ward angrily.

"Apologize to Fred for what you did. Tell him what you are and that you're sorry," June ordered.

Ward hesitated for a moment, but then the words finally came out. "I'm sorry, Mr. Rutherford. I'm nothing but a sleazy little cocksucker and am truly sorry for acting the way I did."

"That's a good start, Ward," June said "Show Fred how sincere you are. Go sit next to him. Put one arm around his neck and the other hand on his cock. Sing him a chorus of "I Want to be Loved by You" as you slowly stroke his dick. When you're done singing bend down and let your mouth finish the job your hand started."

Scene: the boys' darkened bedroom upstairs.

"Hey Wally, you awake?" Beaver whispered.

Wally rolled over with a rustle of sheets. "Yeah Beav, wadda ya want?"

"I think I hear someone singing."

"Yeah, sounds like Dad singing again."

"It must be funny cause I hear Mom and Mrs Rutherford laughing, but who's that moaning?"

"Oh, that must be Mr. Rutherford, I guess he don't know the words."

"Gee, that's too bad, Wally, sounds like he's missing out on the fun."

"Yeah. Goodnight, Beav."

"Goodnight, Wally."

Did you enjoy reading these? Would you like to republish these works? Please direct comments and permissions requests to Will Brame.


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