I promised a bit of fiction on this blog and here it is… it’s NSFW explicit, specific, erotic and features two women. For more specifics read the tags. If this is you’re thing then please, find a quiet place and clicky through 😉
“I want this.”
I looked up at the sound of her voice. She held the rubber bound book in both of her hands, its cover and spine stamped with one word: fetish. I smiled as she ran her fingers lightly over the gray letters sunk into the velvety, pliant black. It was a simple book, its contents only a little more than a general overview of the most common BDSM practices and definitions, but the cover, that was something to behold. A supple rubber an eighth of an inch thick wrapped the pages, giving the short book extra substance. She felt it; I could tell by the way she held it. It was weightier and more substantial than book its size would usually be. I reached for it and she handed it over.
“That’s mine,” I told her, quirking a butch eyebrow, “but you can borrow it if you like.”
A pout passed through her eyes but didn’t make it to her lips. “Melissa you’re mean.” She countered, using my whole name to tell me she wasn’t really upset. She would never beg, she was too proud. She was a woman capable of taking care of herself, and would. She would accept gifts of course, but she was as practical as the jeans and V-neck t-shirt she wore. To be taken care of was the very thing she needed least, and that was one of the main reasons I wanted to take care of her. I would do so freely, as long as she would let me.
I rose from my desk where I had been searching for a pen. I have pens everywhere but there is never one to be found when I need one. Notebooks are the same. I am always trying to keep track of notes written on a thin thermal paper receipt or around the address window of an envelope instead of any number of nice clean sheets of notebook paper that lay hidden in the most obvious places. Of course they were only obvious when I wasn’t looking for them. I found her much the same as the way; she appeared when I wasn’t looking.
We had played a game all day, advancing and retreating, flirting. Each of us acting like she knew the other wanted her but alternately deciding whether or not to want her back. The verbal sparring continued until her hand slipped to my thigh as I drove. My muscles under her palm twitched and my breathing became uneven, but I tried to hide it. She had given me no reason to think she wanted more than just someone to flirt with, so I kept my attraction to her to myself. But then, her hand…
I had focused on driving, my gaze locked on the horizon. “Please,” I begged quietly, almost to myself, “Please don’t tease me like that.”
I heard her leather jacket creak then felt her whisper in my ear, “Who says I’m teasing?”
I pulled over and stopped, maybe a little heavy on the brake because my seat belt locked and it frustrated my initial move toward her while her fingertips crept up the inside seam of my jeans. I growled, popped the latch and shrugged the belt away. She watched all of this with amusement that faded when I took her hand. I pressed it to me and turned to kiss her only to have my heart leap into my throat when she pulled away, just out of reach. I felt the cold shadow of a doubt creep toward me for a second, but then she advanced on her own terms and met my lips to hers in a crush. I moaned.
Her lips were sweet, her tongue soft and already seeking. I reached up and tangled my fingers in her long soft strawberry blond hair, taking a fistful and gently tugging her head back to expose her neck and the very tops of her breasts to my attentions. I nipped and nibbled my way down, counting the freckles with my tongue. I was almost to her breasts before she stopped me with a command. “Take me somewhere,” she said, and so I did.
After I let her in the door I began to feel awkward again. She politely accepted tea. She politely turned down a movie. We talked and I repeatedly got lost in the deep green swirl of her eyes, losing my words each time and stuttering to a silence.
Something occurred to me and I got up to find a pen. She watched bemused, but followed me to my study and took the opportunity to peruse my bookshelves. That’s where she found “fetish”, and that’s where I denied her and took the book from her.
I held it in my hand gently, my first finger caressing the letters down the spine. “You like this do you?” I asked, feeling the smile toy with my lips.
She looked up at me as if we now shared a secret. “Very much,” she answered with a purr.
I advanced on her. “What do you like? What turns you on most?” I asked, but didn’t let her answer. Instead, when I reached her I took her lips with mine even as they had begun to shape her response. Her remark was lost in a whimper as I pulled her to me. She reached up and grasped my neck, pulling me down into her harder, stealing my breath.
We were both panting when I broke the kiss and searched her eyes. There was want and need there, something I could fill. I took her hand and lead her into my bedroom. I turned on the lamp by my bed and pulled open the drawer of my nightstand. Her eyes widened and she smiled because my nightstand drawer is where I keep my assortment of leather and toys.
One by one she laid out items on the bed. The leather cuffs, my harness, a nice size dildo, then she paused, “You don’t have a paddle?”
“I improvise,” I answered seriously into her eyes, unblinking.
Her eyebrow arched but she made no comment. She walked over to me and I pulled her in, gripping her ass through her jeans. While I leaned down and pulled her collar away to kiss her neck, her hands untucked my shirt and in seconds she had tugged it over my head. She also made quick work of my pants just before I backed her up so her knees hit the mattress and she fell back onto the bed.
It didn’t take long for me to have her undressed and cuffed face down in the sheets. I bent her over the edge just so, with the leather cuffs linking her wrists together just above her bare ass. I slapped her skin with my hand and felt the sting on my palm. She gasped and her hands wrapped themselves into fists. I left her there and backed away to put on the harness and dildo.
As I did this, her hands began to relax so gave her ass another slap with no warning while I mounted the dildo in its place with my other hand. Her muscles jerked and her shoulders tensed, but she whispered, “Yes.”
I rubbed the skin of her other ass cheek softly with my fingertips, then rapidly gave her another few slaps until the skin was stinging red and I could see the marks of my fingers in her flesh. I reveled in the sounds she made, the speed of her breaths, and the way the tension made the muscles of her back and arms stand out.
I opened her hands and kissed their palms while I reached for the book. She tasted of salty sweat. With the book of fetishes gripped tightly in my fingers I rubbed the heated flesh with the cool rubber cover before swatting her hard with it.
She shuddered and grunted, then begged, “Harder.” I wanted to take her desperately but she wasn’t done. I swallowed my desire and took two longer swings, each with a satisfying ‘crack’ at the end. I could hear the pages compress with each strike and I smiled.
“Harder,” she said again, I raised an eyebrow and obliged swinging with all my force.
‘Crack’ (pause) ‘crack’ (pause) ‘crack’ and on until the skin bloomed from pinks to red rose and a ‘hsit’, made a slightly less red line that angled upward across her left cheek. The letters stacked next to each other with the ‘t’ pointing toward her other cheek, practically demanding me to give the other side the same treatment.
‘Crack’ (pause) ‘crack’ (pause) ‘crack’ and finally:
“Yes,” she said and her body relaxed into the sheets. Her wrists no longer tugged at the cuffs. I put the book down and knelt behind her to run my lips, and then cheek against the super heated skin. I could smell how wet she was and it got me wetter with every breath. I knelt and pressed her ass cheeks apart making her shiver.
She shivered again when I blew a soft breath over the exposed moist lips while gently massaging her butt and upper thigh, sliding my thumbs closer to her want with every pass. I waited until she whimpered before I leaned forward and took a long taste of her, from clit to lower back, tracing each contour in between.
She tasted like skin, like flesh as it warms after being outside in the cold. She tasted like heart and soul and breath. I buried my nose in her and my tongue found her clit. I felt the moan rumble through her more than I heard it. First flicking and teasing, then sucking as her hips rocked above me. I pressed my face harder into her and slipped a shoulder to the front of her thigh so I could grip her with more leverage, sucking and lapping happily until her breaths got shorter and she began to hold them back all together, then I stopped and stood.
She let out a plaintive whine that was cut short when I slid the dildo into her soaked pussy. She leaned back to take the whole length, until my thighs brushed the tender still hot flesh of her ass with each stroke. We found our rhythm, short hard strokes pushing deep inside her. One of my hands wrapped around her hipbone pulling her to me as I pushed toward her, the other buried itself in her hair, massaging her scalp and pulling insistently.
I rode her until her back arched and she came with a moan, then collapsed back to the sheets in a panting, sweaty, shivering, puddle. I kept the dildo inside her and petted her back until her muscles stopped twitching. When I pulled out she let out a satisfied sigh that I secretly basked in like a cat in sunlight.
The buckles on both the cuffs and harness yielded. I tossed the leather to the side and gave her bunched muscles a rub before we both climbed up under the duvet.
She wriggled up on her stomach and cradled her head on my arm. I looked down and rubbed her ass gently with my other palm. The marks of the lettering were fading quickly, but I could still feel the texture of them stamped into her skin. Those letters would always be hers. I reached over to the nightstand and picked up the book. Holding it by the spine I shook it just enough to riffle the pages and get her attention. She turned on her side and looked at it, then at me questioningly.
“Now it’s yours,” I said offering it to her. She did, with a sparkle in her eyes, and laid it on my side, the coolness resting just below my breast, so she could turn the pages with one hand.
Pausing on a picture of a woman in a pleather bra, thong, gloves and laced top hat she said, “Thank you.”
“You earned it.” I told her and held her close, for as long as she would have me, “Happy Valentine’s day.”