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We're publicly apologizing to contributor Helena Swann of cuntext.com. In the rush and hullabaloo of laying out the magazine, we completely missed including her incredibly hot submission. As a part of our apology, we'd like to entice you all with this snippet of her delicious story, which will be featured in the WORK issue. We're sorry, Helena!
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The Belt
by Helena Swann
I was watching the belt all day while we helped our friend move into her new place. Every time his coat fell open, the double-pronged buckle drew my eyes downward, prompted speculation about whether he was packing. I like the way that belt looks, thick leather across his hips. I liked the way it looked before I knew I like the way it feels, but not long before. The first time he wore it, he made me come on it; told me to rub my cunt up against it. Grinding my clit down on the leather bulge, I could feel metal on the edges of my labia as he muttered in my ear, “C’mon, make it wet”. Not long after, he put crisp red lines across my back with the edges of the belt; it flies fast and stings hard thanks to the double row of elongated belt-holes down its entire length.
He told me to reserve the U-Haul tonight for long enough to give us an hour before returning it to the seedy motel on St-Jacques. Every time throughout the day’s box-lugging that I’ve noticed the belt, I’ve wondered what he’s going to do with it when we’re done. The whole drive, I’ve been increasingly aware that the seam of my jeans is tight against my clit, and noticing him watching me is making me wet. Three blocks away from the motel, it’s midnight and I tell him we have an hour and a half before the van’s due back.
“Park somewhere.”
[...]
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