Read Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica Online
Authors: Sinclair Sexsmith,Miriam Zoila Perez,Wendi Kali,Rachel Kramer Bussel,Gigi Frost,BB Rydell,Amelia Thornton,Dilo Keith,Vie La Guerre,Anna Watson
Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica (18 page)
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“Straddle it.”
Maggie, her skirt clutched in both hands, got her legs around the sides of the toilet. She was off balance, and the trainer held her waist, steadying her, making her melt. “Now,” said the trainer, her hand cupping Maggie’s pussy again, squeezing, probing. “Go on.”
“I… What?”
“You heard me.” The trainer’s voice was hard. “You have to pee, so pee.”
To distract herself from having to think about this command, Maggie ground her pussy into the trainer’s hand, her breath coming hard. She wanted to hold on to the wall, but didn’t dare drop her skirt to reach out a hand. She wanted to obey the trainer, whose commands were turning her on so unexpectedly, but how could she? She’d never been into the whole golden shower thing, she wasn’t prepared for anything like this, and she really, really had to go.
“I’m waiting.”
“My panties—should I…?”
“Leave your panties where they are.”
Maggie squeezed her eyes shut. She was going to do it, she knew she was, she wanted to please the trainer more than she’d ever wanted to please any lover. Filled with intense embarrassment, Maggie tried, hesitantly, slowly; then finally letting go, she did it, she pissed through her panties into the trainer’s hand, wetting her thighs and the seat of the toilet, splashing everywhere.
The trainer drew in her breath with pleasure as her hand filled and overflowed. “Yeah, you’re just as slutty and nasty as I thought,” she told Maggie, making her gasp as she shoved aside the sodden material of her panties and found her sopping slit and hole, filling her suddenly with two fingers. Pee was still trickling out of her. The trainer leaned against the stall door and pulled Maggie against her as Maggie’s knees buckled. Maggie moved, trying to get a rhythm going, fucking the trainer’s fingers, but just as it was starting to get really good, the trainer moved her hand away and began to manhandle her tits, tugging hard at the nipples through her tank top, smearing them with her piss-wet palm. Maggie groaned, trying to keep her skirt up, her wet panties clammy against her hot pussy, and then the trainer grabbed her arms and slammed her hands down on the toilet seat. Maggie got a good grip on the wet seat, instinctively presenting her ass. The trainer pushed Maggie’s skirt aside and pulled her panties down to her knees.
“Stay like that.” Maggie heard the jingle of a belt and the soft pops of jeans being unbuttoned. The incongruous tearing sound of a condom wrapper. Maggie lowered her head, trying not to let her hair dip into the toilet bowl, wantonly jutting her naked ass toward the trainer, and then the trainer was helping, rocking her, positioning her, and Maggie felt the tip of a dick in her hole. She had never been with a woman who had a dick. She moaned, up on her toes, pushing back.
“Now how about that,” the trainer said, grunting with effort, breath ragged. “Mrs. Tourist, up here in the filthy bathroom of the local dyke bar getting her booty fix. Isn’t that what you wanted when you first saw me today? You said to yourself, I want that butch’s big, hard cock to plow the shit out of me, didn’t you, slut?”
The words drove Maggie to the edge, dirty and thrilling, but she shouldn’t come yet, should she? She didn’t know what to say, could barely form words.
“I asked you a question!” The trainer wound a fist in her hair and yanked her head back, thrusting hard, faster.
“Oh!” Tears came to Maggie’s eyes. “Yes!” She was meeting the trainer’s thrusts and she felt sexy, so sexy.
“And now what do you want, little wifey? Do you want to come for me? Are you going to come for me just like you pissed for me, just like you’re taking my dick so nice and deep, are you ready to give it up for me like you know you need to, right when I tell you?”
Maggie, her face burning, whispered, “Please, yes, please…”
The trainer snugged Maggie better onto her dick, slowing down, grinding against her ass in long, delicious circles. “Aw, isn’t that sweet? This nasty, slutty, pissy bathroom whore wants to come for me. Well, girl, you’d better do it quick, I hear someone opening the door.”
Maggie gasped and shook her head no—how could she come with someone else there?—but the trainer was pumping hard again, reaching around for her swollen clit, muttering, “Now, now, now, bitch, now!” and there was nothing for it but to let go again and come huffing and squealing with her forehead pressed against the hard tiles of the wall, barely missing banging her teeth on the plumbing.
The trainer continued to grind into her, grunting and panting through her own come, then she pulled out, slapping her dick on Maggie’s ass. There were footsteps and someone went into the stall beside them; they could hear her unzipping her pants. Maggie tried to turn around to face the trainer, starting to giggle nervously, but the trainer held her where she was until the other woman left the bathroom.
“I’m leaving now,” said the trainer, still not letting Maggie turn around. “Stay facing the wall until you hear the door shut. You get yourself cleaned up and then come back out into the bar. Oh. You won’t be needing these.” She stripped off Maggie’s reeking panties and dangled them in front of her face, snatching them back when Maggie reached for them. “One last thing: you say, ‘Thank you, Sir.’”
“Thank you, Sir!” It came out so heartfelt, the trainer chuckled. She smoothed Maggie’s hair and whispered, “Good girl.” Tears sprang to Maggie’s eyes, and then she could hear the trainer unlocking the stall door, running water in the sink, and finally leaving the bathroom. The whole time, Maggie stood stock still as she’d been told, holding onto the wall with one hand for support, reading the same bits of graffiti over and over again: “I love Michelle!” “What makes your pussy wet?” “Nipple clamps.” “Her tongue.” “Xena.”
When she heard the door close, she staggered over to the sink and did what she could to make herself presentable.
It was a lot more crowded in the bar now, and no one seemed to be leering at her as she came back into the front room, although she felt incredibly conspicuous. She looked a bit hysterically for the trainer but couldn’t see her anywhere. The barkeep waved her over and cleared a spot for her at the bar.
“Here you go, darlin’,” she said, reaching for a glass. “Your friend left this for you before she took off.” The bartender set a Sea Urchin in front of Maggie with a flourish and a wink. “Said somethin’ as to how you might be feelin’ thirsty.”
COMING OF AGE
Dilo Keith
R
ight on time, the doorbell rang. I told my collared sub Brandi to remain kneeling while I answered it myself. Chloe was more fetching than I remembered from our first meeting. She was short, blonde, and curvy, my preferred body type. Not that her shape mattered much, since it was her obedience I sought, but there was no reason I couldn’t have it all. The fact that this would be her second time playing—the first with me—could have been daunting for either of us, but she had studied numerous written resources and seemed to have an excellent grasp of the basics. Chloe’s first time hadn’t amounted to much, according to her; now she wanted the “real thing.” She had given me reason to believe I wouldn’t have to take baby steps with her, and I intended to make her eighteenth birthday memorable. Technically, we were a week late, a triviality to me, but a source of frustration for a budding slut eager to make her debut.
ight on time, the doorbell rang. I told my collared sub Brandi to remain kneeling while I answered it myself. Chloe was more fetching than I remembered from our first meeting. She was short, blonde, and curvy, my preferred body type. Not that her shape mattered much, since it was her obedience I sought, but there was no reason I couldn’t have it all. The fact that this would be her second time playing—the first with me—could have been daunting for either of us, but she had studied numerous written resources and seemed to have an excellent grasp of the basics. Chloe’s first time hadn’t amounted to much, according to her; now she wanted the “real thing.” She had given me reason to believe I wouldn’t have to take baby steps with her, and I intended to make her eighteenth birthday memorable. Technically, we were a week late, a triviality to me, but a source of frustration for a budding slut eager to make her debut.
I had told her to wear something sexy but street legal, with proper undergarments; luscious breasts like hers should be supported and tastefully framed. They were more than a handful, but not out of proportion for her body. The absence of my favorite color in her monochromatic outfit—a black velvet skirt, stockings, high-heeled pumps, and a clingy, low-cut T-shirt peeking out from behind her leather jacket—was disappointing. I had made sure she knew how much I liked blue, particularly a rich hue, like sapphire.
She noticed my lukewarm assessment and took a deep breath before hesitantly asking, “Am I dressed okay?”
“Move the coat.”
She spread her leather jacket open.
“That will do.” I motioned my girl over to take her coat.
Chloe eyed Brandi but didn’t ask for an introduction. Points for her.
As Chloe shrugged out of the jacket, I caught a glimpse of a brilliant blue bra. I amended my previous statement. “You look lovely.” There was no need to tell her how pleased I was.
“Thank you…ma’am?”
My almost-butch outfit probably confused her. Black 501 jeans, a silk button-front shirt, leather vest, and soft leather boots complemented my slender build. Well-fitting, comfortable clothes usually gave me a masculine appearance, as did my short, easy-care haircut.
“Ma’am is correct.” To be honest, “ma’am” sometimes made me feel old. She was about a third of my age.
While Brandi took care of some preparations, Chloe and I discussed limits, fine-tuning what we had covered in e-mails and phone conversations. Chloe didn’t have much to add other than asking if she could make requests. I explained that polite requests and some begging were acceptable. She didn’t ask about role definitions, so I brought up the topic.
“I want to be sure we share an understanding about our respective roles. Brandi is my submissive. The term ‘slave’ doesn’t really fit, although she’s as close to a slave as I’ll have. Even though you and I haven’t established such a relationship, I expect the same obedience. You’re obviously intending to submit to me, but you don’t belong to me. I also don’t think you’re seeking a master or owner now.”
“What if I
am
seeking an owner?”
am
seeking an owner?”
“You’ll be disappointed.” She never indicated in her e-mails that she was the type seeking a mistress to insert into a fantasy of being owned. In case I was wrong, I needed to nip that in the bud.
Chloe pressed her lips together, not quite frowning.
“Why does that bother you?”
“Maybe it’s only terminology, but I thought this was more than just bottoming. I want you to use me for whatever you want. Anything safe for me, of course.”
“If I decide to tie you to a chair and have you watch me play with Brandi, what then?”
“Then I watch. However, you said begging was allowed.”
I laughed. “Yes, I did. And to be honest, it would be a waste to leave you tied to a chair. The point is that you know it would still be using you.” She had expressed little interest in bondage except as an occasional tool in other play, an opinion we shared.
“I understand you want me to obey you and not just use you to give me things I want. If it turns out we both want the same thing, that’ll be great, but that’s not what this is about.”
“Then we agree.”
“Oh, I do have a question. Exactly how should I address you?”
“I
told
you ‘ma’am’ was acceptable.”
told
you ‘ma’am’ was acceptable.”
She pursed her lips again, probably because of both lack of information and the mild rebuke.
“I don’t require you to use it at the beginning and end of every sentence or anything like that. Just be polite and use ‘Mistress Lynn’ or ‘ma’am’ as it seems appropriate. When in doubt, thank me for something, but be sure you know what.”
“Thank you for the instructions, ma’am. What about Brandi?”
“I see no reason for you to address her. If something comes up, her name will suffice.”
I led her to the playroom and gave her a moment to look around. Her wide-eyed visual tour of the room suggested she hadn’t expected such an elaborate dungeon. In addition to several standard pieces of quality bondage and whipping furniture, there was a queen-sized bed and various movable racks for toys. A rest area included a leather couch and a small table with chairs. Brandi laid out snacks and water bottles while Chloe and I sat at the table.
“Brandi baked you a cake for your birthday.”
Chloe looked in Brandi’s direction.
“You can thank her later,” I told Chloe.
I scooped up a fingerful of frosting and held it near her mouth. “I hope you like chocolate.”
Chloe accepted my finger and spent a little longer than necessary sucking off the frosting. She started to follow my finger with her lips when I took it away.
“I see you like to suck on things. I’ll keep that in mind. Now, young lady, you’re overdressed. Stand up.”
She reached for the bottom edge of her shirt.
“Not yet. Turn around, slowly. All the way around. Now the shirt. Skirt.”
Chloe removed each specified item, placing them neatly on the chair, and then stood in her lovely blue lace bra and panties, properly awaiting instructions.
“Bra. Put your hands behind you and arch your back.”
I brushed the back of my fingers across her nipples. “Do you like it when women suck these?”
Chloe looked down and blushed, just a little. I hadn’t expected it to be so easy to get a reaction.
“Look at me. That was a question, which is an order to provide an answer.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Yes, you understand, or yes, you like it?”
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