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 (21 page)
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She leaves her hands on the wall, never moving them. She must really want to come tonight.
I gently run my hands along the sweet curves of her body, resting on her ass before letting my fingers travel down between her legs.
She is wet, dripping down her thighs.
I touch gently, soft as I can, just the slightest stroke, and she softens, knees buckling, before she jerks up and pulls away from me, twisting her face around to plead with her eyes. With the gag in her mouth she can’t tell me, but I can understand her: She’ll come if I keep touching her. She is already that close.
I take my hand away and move both up to unbuckle her gag. She moans as it comes out of her mouth and she swallows, wipes her chin on her shoulder, not moving her hands, and manages to say, “Thank you.”
I drop the gag. “Turn around, give me your wrists.”
She turns and drops her arms in front of her, offers herself to me. I loop the belt around both wrists and pull it tight, then snake the end back through between them so she’s locked in handcuffs. I pull on the end of the belt and bring her toward me, bring my arm around her tender back, lightly brushing my hand along her spine as I kiss her mouth, cheek, jaw, neck. I could devour her like this: she is liquid and soft, and holding her, entering her, is like diving underwater.
Little murmurs of pleasure bubble up through her lips and I pull her close to me, delight in the feel of our bodies pressed together. But she’s got me all hard, too, and wanting, still edgy, hips tight and ready to buck.
I push her gently. “On the bed.”
She lies down face up and scoots back onto the bed. From between her legs I push her wrists above her head with one hand and struggle to rip the button open, get the zipper down on my jeans, to get my cock out. She pushes with her legs against the bed and keeps moving herself back. I slide to keep up with her, and by the time I pull my cock free, she’s got her hands against the wall, pushing back against it so I can press into her, and I sit up to grip the tender flesh of her inner thighs as I guide my cock inside her with my hips. It slides in perfectly the first time, her hips wide and open, knees pulling back, and I tear off my T-shirt before dropping down on top of her, thrusting all the way in.
My harness is tight and I feel every inch, every resistance she offers with her tight cunt as my hips thrust against her.
“Fuck, fuck,” she cries, wrapping her legs around my waist, gripping me hard, pulling me in deep. I didn’t think I was this hard, this ready to burst, but I am, and she’s still pushing on the wall so I can pull her harder toward me, my arms wrapped under her, her skin still hot and red where I’d marked her up.
I can’t believe she hasn’t come yet.
“Come inside me, do it, fuck me, I want you to, please, please…” she starts begging. That little whine in her voice does it for me every time. I cry out, feel my clit pulse and shake against the harness strap, my stomach crunching, ass tight and pressing forward so I can grind against her, harder, thrust in once again, milking the last of the orgasm through my body.
My jeans are tangled over my ankles and I reach down to toss them off, then bring my hands back to her hips, bring the tip of my cock to her hole again. I move one hand to flick her clit, big and pink, with my thumb.
She moans.
“You are so being good, baby,” I murmur, sitting back on my heels, knees pushing her thighs apart, cock still just one inch inside her, knuckles against her clit. “You took that very well, and you made me come so quick. You were perfect tonight.”
“I was?” She brings her hands down to her chest and I unwrap the belt from her wrists.
“Perfect,” I say again, leaning forward so she can wrap her arms around my back, leaving just enough room that I can still rub my hand against her pussy. “Do you think that was good enough for you to come?”
Her eyes flash a little, widen. I can see her thinking, what if I don’t let her? What will she do then?
“Yes?”
“Hmm.” I move my hips a little and tease her wet hole with my cock. She’s tight, still trying not to come. Not without permission. When she is right on the edge, I want to keep her there. I want to train her well enough that she can practically come on command.
“Ohh,” she moans. She tears at my shoulders with her perfect manicure. It stings, and I remember the way it looked, so fresh and slick and bright, when she ran her hands all up and down the shaft of my cock last night as she sucked me off on the couch. She has been waiting a long time for this one.
I shove all the way in and rub her clit a little harder. “You’ve been so good, pretty girl. You waited so well this week. Go ahead, you can come now. Come for me.”
That’s all she needs, just that flash of permission, and she shakes and comes, and I don’t let up but thrust harder and keep with the small circles over her clit. She gasps and slams her arms down onto the bed, back arching, as she comes in rapid succession, two-three-four times, so I pause when I’m all the way inside her, then pull out slow, and she comes again. I almost laugh at how easy it is, at her sensitivity, and sit up again to push her legs by the backs of her knees as I fuck her a little more as she moans, arching my hips up and aiming up for her g-spot, and I only get two-three-four thrusts in before she comes again, this time squirting hard in a stream that gushes and arcs, high enough that I can see it, before her pussy squeezes so tight she pushes my cock right out.
Breathing hard, I collapse next to her. I’ve lost count. She nestles up against me and brings her hand down to grip my cock, strokes it a little, more like a comforting gesture than an attempt to turn me on. She sighs and we wrap around each other.
“When can my next one be?” she asks after a minute of quiet, as we both get our breath back.
“Perhaps Saturday,” I offer, mentally checking my schedule. She nods and gives me that little smile, pushes her hair back from her face, and adjusts her collar around her neck.
“But Tuesday’s not over yet,” I say, and turn to kiss her beautiful face.
FEATHERS HAVE WEIGHT
Alysia Angel
I
watched you skulking around in the alley where I asked you to meet me. You were so
on time.
I enjoyed how your pacing slowed after a while. You looked at your watch, the sky, your eyes squinting down the alley where I was positioned behind a half wall, unseen in the dark not far from you. I know you well enough to know that you were starting to wonder if I was ever coming, if perhaps something had happened to me en route. You know I always keep my word. I enjoyed watching the concern and love dance across your pretty face.
watched you skulking around in the alley where I asked you to meet me. You were so
on time.
I enjoyed how your pacing slowed after a while. You looked at your watch, the sky, your eyes squinting down the alley where I was positioned behind a half wall, unseen in the dark not far from you. I know you well enough to know that you were starting to wonder if I was ever coming, if perhaps something had happened to me en route. You know I always keep my word. I enjoyed watching the concern and love dance across your pretty face.
After a few more minutes, I casually stepped out of my hiding spot, my heels making tiny clicking sounds on the cobblestones. As I approached, you straightened just a hair, the lines of your body like telephone wires, taut and bundled with ropy tension. I stalked around you and hooked a long red nail into the ragtag boy hanky at your throat. Into the cold air, while jerking the fabric hard from away from your neck, I said, “I know puppies that wear hankies around their necks like this,” and your whole face flushed under the dim streetlights. I could see the blush travel down your fawn neck in fat little red fingers, making my fangs press insistently against my bottom lip.
You stood against the wall, your bruiser face on, one boot-clad foot pressed into the bricks to steady you. I pressed nearer to you, close enough for you to smell my amber oil, my tits grazing against your tough-guy leather vest, and you started to look nervous.
I liked that.
I slowly reached up and pushed my fingers into your short hair. I smoothed sleekly the back of your skull, the soft bristles of your hair pressing back into my hands with the eagerness that you carefully kept off your face. Your head bowed just barely. It was enough.
My heels kicked at your huge boots with force. You resisted and looked down at me with a flash of defiance, nostrils flared and jaw working. I kicked harder. This time higher above the boot line, and you winced but slowly spread your legs. I let the crackle of electricity build between us, the smell of the alley damp and cool around us, the bricks against your back and thighs. My breath was in the air like mists around your handsomeness. I reached up languidly and touched your face, and as you softened, I pulled away quickly and slapped, watching with pleasure as your head snapped to the side and then slowly back into position. Your pupils were blown open like a dark poppy thrust out of a crack in the cement. Beautiful, like it just didn’t give a fuck. I slapped you again even harder, enough so I could feel the warm little prickles jump around on my palm. Your head came up faster this time, a sneer on your lips, that defiance back in your eyes. I took that moment to put my hand over your mouth and place my other hand on your jeans-clad cock, stroking my nails against it, raking them hard enough for you to shiver in spite of yourself.
“On your knees,” I said softly. You hung back and I punched you three times with my small fist in your substantial chest. You slid down to your knees. I enjoyed you there, now lower than me, your boyish face refusing to look up.
I yanked your hair back, forcing your face up, and I said, “Who am I?” Confusion passed across your face like a fog and you responded with “Ma’am?” I slapped you one-two-three with my left hand across that pretty face of yours.
“The proper way to address me tonight is Daddy.” Your eyes rolled back in uncomplicated surprise and joy while your red lips formed the words: “Oh. Yes, Daddy.” Your mouth was still slightly open, so I took the chance to shove four fingers into it. I took great pleasure in the way your tongue felt against the pads of my fingertips, how my nails scraped against your tenderness.
As I slowly fucked your mouth, I asked you to lift up my vintage dress. With shaky hands you pressed it upward, eyes never leaving mine, and I said in my sweet honey voice, “You can look down, darlin’.” You glanced down and your mouth opened wider around my fingers, which slid out of you and into my panties to pull out Mustang.
Mustang shot down your eager throat like a hungry snake and you gagged, sputtering around its girth. Your eyes rolled around like a horse at a track, trying to get out of the gate to win the race.
I pulled out and slapped your face with my cock. “No teeth this time,” I said as I alternated cock-slapping you and rubbing the head of my dick across your impossible lips. You looked so hot with your mouth working so hard and your fingers hooked into my fishnets, pressing into my thighs for support.
“You may touch my pussy,” I said softly to the top of your beautiful head as it bobbed swiftly up the length of my cock. Your hand wasted no time sliding aside the band of my black lace panties and pressing under my cock against my clit. Your cheeks sucked in hard as your fingers slid easily into my ready hole, two and then three all the way inside me. You moaned and nearly lost your balance as I held on to the bricks for support and leaned back so I could spread my legs further apart. You never stopped sucking my dick as you fucked my pussy hard like you know I like it, your thumb jammed under my cock and on top of my clit. I let you fuck me like that until I came, fast and rapid panting.
“Did you like fucking Daddy like that, boy?” I asked as I glanced down the alley to check our position. You mumbled out a “My God yes, Daddy” around my cock and slowly removed your hand from my pussy.
“Unbuckle your belt, take it off, and face the wall,” I said as I regretfully put my dick away. You complied and I came up behind you, lightly punching your back, kicking your legs apart to a position that pleased me and taking the belt out of your right hand. I reached around easily, my tits pressed against you and unbuckled and unzipped your jeans with one deft move. They slid to your knees and I slowly pushed your gay boy underwear down just enough to expose your ass.
My nails dug into your beautiful ass cheeks, leaving matching red marks on either side, and you shivered onto the bricks. You turned your head to look back and I punched you in the back, hard, in rapid succession until you were facing the wall again. You moaned and I smiled a feral smile into the back of your solid body. I marveled over how much taller you were than me as I hit your ass solidly with your own doubled belt. Your body jolted and I hit again, asking you to count for me.
You counted to thirty and I checked in, saying, “Too much, boy?” And you with your gritted teeth hissed out, “No, Daddy,” so I hit you harder until I was pleased with the welts that were already spreading across your beautiful ass. I made you stand there in silence while I reached into my bag and pulled out a bottle of water, took some swigs, and then spat in a fine arc all across your red ass. You moaned as the cold air hit the wetness of you, and I slapped it just to make sure you got the point.
“Bend over, boy,” I said, maintaining my composure as you bent over, exposing yourself to me with your usual grace. I put my hand between your legs from behind, and with the full intention of shaming you, I commented on how wet and hard you were for me.
“What do you want?” I asked while cupping you. No answer. My left hand came down three times on your massively welted ass and I asked again, more loudly this time, “What do you want, boy?”
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