Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica (6 page)

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Authors: Sinclair Sexsmith,Miriam Zoila Perez,Wendi Kali,Rachel Kramer Bussel,Gigi Frost,BB Rydell,Amelia Thornton,Dilo Keith,Vie La Guerre,Anna Watson

BOOK: Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica
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I take a slow but deep breath, check myself, and begin by placing her wrists together behind her back. I carefully wind plenty of rope around them to distribute the pressure. Only a few windings would concentrate it and dig into the wrists much more. Digging in is nice sometimes, because it leaves more pronounced marks afterward, but that’s not my goal tonight. Jake stands remarkably still, staring across the room. I notice her breath quickening. She shifts her weight and wriggles her wrists under the rope.
I can’t help but stifle a laugh remembering how she was in the bar last night. Today, Jake Six is standing in front of me naked, chin down, submitting.
Then I get nervous. I’ve asked this girl to trust me. Hogtieing can be tricky. I know I need to get the degree of arch just right.
I used lots of rope to distribute the pressure, right?
Yes, I did.
Okay.
Are you sure about this?
I think.
Can I do this?
Yes.
I can.
I take another slow, controlled breath and then place a hand on her shoulder. “Lie down on your stomach for me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I smile to myself, noticing that she suddenly doesn’t need the correction anymore.
Shifting her gaze downward, she starts to bend her body to meet the floor. Knees first, she balances on her elbows and crawls down onto her stomach, ass in the air, legs bent at the knees.
“Attaboy. Now for the feet.”
I cross her ankles before winding rope around them in the same way as the wrists. After her ankles are cinched down, I run a separate piece of rope up from the ankles, wrapping it around the wrists, then back down to the ankles, making sure the link rope knot is tied at her ankles away from groping fingers.
I silently watch her chest rise and fall. My palms are sweaty.
“Are you ready for me to tighten the rope?”
Jake wriggles her body into a comfortable position on her stomach, breathes deeply, eyes wide before exhaling, “Yes, Sir.”
I’m the one supposed to be in control here. I wipe my hands on my jeans and focus.
I double-check all of the ties and slowly pull the link rope just enough so her legs bend, drawing her ankles toward her wrists—creating a living package of helplessness.
“Is that tight enough?”
A second big sigh escapes her mouth. “More, please, Sir.”
She’s really flexible. I pull the rope tighter, and her crossed ankles cause her knees to spread further apart. “You are such a good boy.”
As I am praising her, I’m running my hands all over her body. As I’m touching her, I feel the tension draining from her taut frame. She sinks deeper into the floor. “Feels good, Sir.”
“Good. I’m glad. Now, how about we finish what we set out to do when I first arrived here tonight?”
Jake smiles and lets out a laugh. “You are tricky, Sir. There really isn’t much I can do about saying no to you, now is there?” Her muscles relax into her own trussed-up body.
“You can always say no, loudmouth.”
“Sir,” she spits back. “I want you to.”
I wrestle my fingers into her hair. “Remind me of what you want.”
Smiling, she rolls her eyes in mock exasperation. “Sir, I want you to teach me manners, Sir. Please. Sir.”
Her playful willingness gives me the shot in the arm I needed. I kneel behind her so her ankles are at eye level to me. Linking my left hand over her left leg, I open up the cop book again and read the opening pages:
“Becoming a police officer is not for everyone. The most important tenet to being a good officer is the ability to be accommodating to people from all walks of life.” I glance down toward her exposed crotch. “Officers must be willing to empathize.”
She squirms in position. A restless sigh escapes her.
I put the book down. “Is this boring you?” I say.
“No, Sir. I mean yes, Sir. I mean no, Sir.” Her breath is quickening and she’s squirming even more now. Her nipples are hard.
“You are practicing restraint, that’s good,” I say, wriggling her foot and smiling. “Practicing restraint is also a very important tenet of being a good officer.”
I trail my hands over her inner thighs, following a path to her clit. Stroking her cunt. “So much restraint.” Jake moans while I run my hands down her sides and pull her whole exposed body closer to mine. “Patience too, another good sign.”
I unbuckle my jeans and pull out my cock. Jake’s rhythmic breath gets me all worked up. I tear my jeans from my body like they are on fire, grab the lube, stroke myself wet a few times, wrap my hands around the underside of her knees, and sink my cock into her.
I start out slowly. Her body pulses with mine. We fuck like a combustion engine, compressed intake stroke cranking her shaft up and down my connecting rod. I arch my back to get a better angle and lube up some more.
She grunts in appreciation. “Sir! Fuck me, Sir!” I rev back up. My piston pumping her intake valve, in and out, faster and faster, building compression, teasing her spark plug. I reach the top of my stroke again as her gasoline charge explodes.
“YES, SIR. YES, Sir. Fuck, yes. Sir.” I push in deep, lick my middle finger, and rub her clit with it. “Yes, Sir. Right there.”
I feel like I’m doing some kind of yoga pose. Hogtied sutra finger-fuck asana.
The ropes cinch down even further as she comes in my hand. I quickly release the cinch knot. Her body lands in a thud. She lets out a gasp, rolls over on her back. I lie down next to her as we catch our breath.
Jake shoots her head over toward my direction and smiles. I smile back. Then, softly, she asks, “Sir? Are you going to teach me some more manners now or what?”
Baby steps, I remind myself, and laugh.
ALL OF ME
 
Amelia Thornton
 
 
 
 
 
 
“
G
et down and suck my dick like the filthy little slut you are,” I hear myself bark, inwardly cringing at the clichéd dialogue coming out of my mouth. He gets down, though, his own dick straining against the lacy panties I made him put on earlier, the blonde wig he chose himself now all wonky from his exertions. He slobbers all over the black rubber dildo I have strapped on, whimpering about what a sissy slut he is, whilst my mind wanders. It’s not that I don’t love my job; I do. It’s just that towards the end of the day on a Friday, when I’ve had a whole week of appointments including a regular who flew in from Ohio just to see me, and expected an entire day of Complete Real Life Domination (whatever
that
is), my mind can’t help it if it’s kind of had enough.
I contemplate dinner to start with. I know you’re coming over, and I wanted to do something really special, so I’ve already been to the market and got all the right ingredients, and the deli to get that walnut bread you love so much, and even managed to find the particular brand of dried mushrooms for the stock that you once told me were the best ones out there. I’m kind of stuck on dessert, but I’ve still got my next booking to decide that one through, so I guess by the time you pick me up, I’ll know what I’m doing.
“Mmmph hmmph hmmph!”
“Yeah, bitch, suck it like that! You like that, huh, such a pretty little cocksucker…”
Okay, so now I’m torn on the lingerie. I know you love the burgundy silk, but you’ve seen it so many times now. I bought a sheer black babydoll last week that had seemed just perfect at the time, but now I’m thinking it might be a bit too lacy, and you might prefer the simplicity of the silk. Though if I go with the black, I can switch the g-string that came with it for the French knickers with the embroidery trim you always say make my ass look like it’s asking for a spanking, which by that point, I’m hoping it will be. So, it’s a tough choice.
“Hmmph coming mmph Mistress hhm ohgodyeah…”
I ram the dick a couple times more down his throat whilst he comes, his hand furiously jacking himself off. He always looks a little cute when he comes, this one, like a kind of weird chipmunk with his mouth full of my silicone cock. It’s the only way he can come, he told me once, to have something in his mouth. Goes back to his childhood, some older girls making him shove marshmallows in his cheeks til he was nearly sick and they all laughed at him. Hey, I’m not one to judge what gets people off.
“Thank you, Mistress,” he whimpers dutifully, reaching for some Kleenex to wipe himself off. “I’ll…I’ll go and get changed now.”
I nod sternly, telling him I’ll see him next week for more of the same, and then once he’s left the room I slowly start tidying up. I really, really can’t be bothered to do another one now. Why Jackie booked anyone else in is beyond me, when I specifically told her I had a date tonight and didn’t want to be late. It’s just typical. I’m just in the middle of spritzing all the floggers with sanitizer when I hear the soft click of the door opening and turn around to irritably inform whoever it is that their session doesn’t start for another ten minutes, so if they could kindly wait in the waiting room, I will come and fetch them, when I realize it’s you.
I can’t even speak for a moment, I’m so engrossed in just drinking in the sight of it. You’ve polished your leathers, and I can smell them from here, that scent of earthy heat I love so much, and you’re dressed in it head to toe. Your boots, your jeans, your shirt, your cap: every item gleaming with a dull sheen. Your olive-skinned arms are taut with muscle, accentuated with finely-drawn tattoos, with your fingers hooked in your belt loops the way you know makes me look at your strong, work-worn hands and think about how they feel inside me. Your sharp green eyes, glinting beneath the peak of your cap, are looking at me with the hunger of a woman who knows what is hers and intends to claim it. Just that thought alone makes me wet.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” I manage to stutter, sanitizing the floggers now long forgotten. “Didn’t Jackie tell you I’ve got another appointment?” I can feel the words coming out of my mouth, but I can’t really hear them. All I can think of is how good you look, standing right there in front of me in the room where I am not myself. You, who makes me be myself, whether I want to or not.
“’Course she did, babydoll,” you reply, your voice smoothly sliding around me, surrounding me. “I booked it.”
The sound of your boots against the floor resounds around the room as you slowly, purposefully step towards me. It seems disjointed, you being here in this place where I am
Her
, the “Mistress,” this creation that is the opposite of all that I desire but is so much easier to be than the real me. I spend so long building up these walls around me to make me something else, and yet here you are, taking them apart in seconds with just the way you look at me. You stop, just inches from me, your hand reaching out to touch me, your eyes looking into mine with desire and affection and raw, sadistic love. I have spent all day touching, yet there is nothing I want more now than to feel you on me.
Your fingers are tracing imaginary lines on my bare arm, making tiny sparks shoot through my skin, making my breath catch in my throat in anticipation of what you will do to me. I can smell the scent of you, leather and sweat and the musky odor of arousal, and it is filling my head until I can barely stand up, the familiar walls around me seeming wrong, but still familiar. Normally, I have time to get myself out of my workspace head and into my playspace one; go home, take a bath, wash the scent of rubber and baby lotion off my skin; dress for you and only you and wait to feel you take me. Now you are already here, and I am still Her, but it is making my heart pound with need to feel it just as I am.
Slowly, your fingers run through my hair, starting at the roots and dragging out to the very tips, then reaching back up again. It is rhythmic, soothing, but it still puts me on edge. I know you are just toying with me.
“I’m going to tie you up now,” you inform me, so calmly and casually you could just be telling me you’re off to make a cup of coffee. “I’m going to tie you up, and then I’m going to hurt you. And you’re going to thank me for it afterwards. Do you understand?”
I just look at you, my mind snapping back to reality, wondering if I can take this, wondering if this is right, in this situation. All around me are the same black walls I see every day, the mirrors reflecting back the image of me standing next to you, the toys hanging on the walls so much more extreme than anything we would ever play with at home. You’ll spank me, and fuck me, and tell me what a good girl I am, but it’s not the same, not like this. I’m not like them.
“Do you understand?” Your voice is softer now, your thumb rubbing delicate circles on the inside of my elbow, your fingers gripping my arm gently enough to remind me that they are there, but also to remind me that if you chose to, you could dig deep enough to leave tiny finger-shaped bruises there. I take a deep breath, looking over at my reflection, seeing Her still standing there instead of me.
“Yes, Sir.”
You smile, and I know you are proud of me. Your strong hands twist around my wrists, lead me over to the battered leather bench I have used so many times, but never like this. I let you buckle the cuffs around me, feel your hands running over the smooth rubber coating my body, letting myself relax against it, each muscle slowly releasing the tension it has held.

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