by R. Gay
I did, ignoring the ring of silence that rippled out around me as people saw what we were doing and gathered to watch. I stripped down to my underwear, then thought Fuck it and stripped the rest of the way.
I stepped toward Barbara and straddled her. Already, my pussy felt so wet I was sure I would leave spots all over her jeans. I tried to dance somehow, but really the music was gone as soon as I looked into her eyes. I ran my breasts up either side of her face like I’d seen strippers do in movies, but she turned her head and licked one of my nipples as it passed.
I lost control of myself, grabbed her by the hair, and bolted my mouth onto hers. All thought went out of my mind except for raging need. I swept my tongue into her mouth, and then my hands were all over her, pinching her nipples, pawing at her breasts, working their way between her legs. I wanted her to scream my name. I wished I could fuck her with a huge cock until she forgot everyone she’d ever met before.
And then I was pushing her off the chair, tearing down her pants, wrenching her legs apart, and burying my face between them. I licked her pussy hard, and, when I couldn’t hear her moaning, I put one finger and then another inside her. I stabbed four fingers into her as I sucked her clit. Her hips began to move under me, and I growled with satisfaction.
I swirled my forefinger around her asshole, and pressed slowly inside that, my own pussy thumping at every one of Barbara’s sharp pants. My thumb in her vagina and my first finger in her ass, I squeezed them together as I raked my tongue across her bud.
She did say my name then, gasping out “Selma” as I felt her muscles begin to spasm around me. I didn’t relent right away. I rode one set of spasms on up and through to the second orgasm. Only then did I take my cramping hand out of her body and look up to see the expression on her face.
Her cheeks were flushed. I kissed her again, slower this time, aching inside as I did it. If I thought of Kevin, it was only to note I didn’t care. “Maybe I can make you lose fifteen pounds,” I told her.
Around us, people started clapping. I remembered we had an audience. Someone helped me to my feet and tried to feel me up. I batted his hands away and turned back to Barbara. I wanted to ask if there was somewhere more private we could go.
It took me a minute to see her through the haze and confusion. When I spotted her, she was leaning against some man, sucking on a joint he held for her. She hadn’t bothered to put her pants back on. I walked up to them. “Barbara,” I began.
She bent to whisper in my ear again. “What do you think of him?” she asked, jerking her head toward a tattoo of a stylized sun that covered half his chest.
“I don’t give a shit about him,” I said, not bothering to lower my voice. “Can we get out of here?”
“You need to relax, Selma. You sound like Dave. Why don’t we stay here and have some fun?”
It dawned on me then that it wasn’t really me she wanted. The rage that passed through me in that moment shocked me. I backed away and retrieved my clothes. I found her pants, too, and took the keys out of the pocket. I considered having a drink, staying at the party, picking up someone else, but I was too angry to want any of those things. I went out to her car.
I wanted to drive until I forgot about her. I almost emptied the tank once, filled it up again, and kept driving. I hoped the cops would stop me and ask about my license. My whole life seemed like a crock to me then—the restaurant job, the months of sobriety, the boyfriend I fucked because I didn’t know what else to do. I stopped the car and rolled the taste of her through my mouth.
In the morning, when I went to pick Barbara up, she lay asleep on the floor in the arms of the man with the sun tattoo. I stood there a long time, learning what I already knew, until I dropped the keys on the floor beside her and began the long walk home.
AN INTRODUCTION
G. G. Royale
Kalini stood at the threshold of the club and refused to enter. alini stood at the threshold of the club and refused to enter.
Her fiancé, Hajar, pulled at her wrist. “Come on.”
“I don’t want to.” She hadn’t realized she would feel this anxious, but good Indian girls didn’t visit bondage clubs—her mother’s voice kept repeating it in her head. What if mother really found out?
“No sex in front of anyone tonight. I promise,” Hajar told her.
“No. Take me home.”
“You’re not acting very submissive right now, Kalini,” Hajar warned. “You should give in to your man more easily.”
How her parents—thousands of miles away in India—could still control her life here, she had no idea. Fucking arranged marriage. She already knew she and Hajar were sexually incompatible. She’d given in so far to Hajar’s…inclinations, but this felt utterly and completely wrong. “We could both ruin our careers if people saw us in there.”
“They have very strict privacy policies. Now come on.”
He pulled again, and Kalini lost her balance, tripping through the open door.
Inside the club, a heavy bass beat shook Kalini. Everything was either shiny chrome or glossy black, including most of the people’s clothing. She looked down at her black dress, the motorcycle boots her nod to the edginess needed for the club. She didn’t compare to other women wearing lingerie, vinyl catsuits, and risqué costumes.
“Please, Hajar,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I want to go home.”
“No.”
He said it with authority. She would be here for the evening, then. She sighed and took Hajar’s hand. He looked down at her. He could probably tell she’d finally given in. He smiled.
“This will be fun,” he said, leading her to the bar.
Kalini saw nothing fun about this. It was one thing to let Hajar handcuff her to their brass headboard. She didn’t even mind the spankings with the leather paddle he bought at the adult store. Sometimes, she could close her eyes and pretend he was someone…different, and then she actually enjoyed it. But here, in a club surrounded by people who obviously knew more about the scene, and the beautiful, tall American women with their bouncy hair and long legs, she felt tiny and completely inadequate.
They sat at the bar, and Hajar ordered her a drink. The bartender set it in front of her with a smile.
“Pretty little thing, aren’t you?”
She took a breath and stared at the bar.
“Submissive, too, huh? You should get your Master to teach you how to take a compliment.”
She could hear the teasing in his voice, but when she looked up at Hajar, he was scowling.
“Anybody want to co-Dom with me?” a voice called out in the club.
“I’ll do it,” Hajar leaped from his seat and raised his hand.
“Excellent.” Another Dom, dressed in leather pants and nothing else, came over and shook hands with Hajar. “I’m Devin, by the way.”
“Hajar and my fiancée, Kalini.”
Devin towed a naked girl behind him on a leash. Kalini shook her head and sipped her drink. What did he intend to do with her?”
“Come on over to the spanking bench. I’ve got it reserved.”
“I’ll wait here,” Kalini told Hajar.
“Don’t go anywhere.”
Some of the other submissives at the bar, ones left alone, had been chained to eyebolts so they couldn’t leave.
She drank, listening to the music and the sounds of whips, chains and people moaning. Maybe I should just leave, she thought.
“Is this seat taken?”
Kalini turned and looked at the newcomer. The woman looked like Bondage Barbie. She stood nearly six feet tall, had huge blonde hair, and wore a leather corset and pencil skirt that clung to her every curve. Kalini thought back to the times she closed her eyes when Hajar spanked her. This was the someone else she fantasized about, right down to the stiletto heels. She could feel herself growing damp between her legs.
Kalini’s mouth watered. Dear Ganesha, what is wrong with me? She’d never been with a woman, and now she sat here,
contemplating one in the flesh as if the blonde were a financially successful software designer or a doctor. In her head, her mother screamed obscenities—well, as obscene as the minuscule woman ever got—and cursed Kalini for being unwholesome and perverted.
“Please s-sit.” She took another huge sip of her drink, trying to get the mother voice in her head to shut up. Gin and tonic, not even something she really liked; it was another way Hajar liked to remind her he was boss. “Can I get a whiskey sour?” she asked the bartender, putting down her half-empty drink.
Barbie sat down and ordered herself a shot of tequila. “I’m Leila, by the way.”
“Kalini,” she said.
The bartender set the drinks down, and Kalini took a long sip. Her mother’s voice receded to a tolerable drone.
“I see you’re not chained,” Leila said. “Do you have a Domme for the evening?”
“I’m here with my fiancé.” Kalini turned in her seat and surveyed the room. She saw Hajar. The other Dom had bent the sub over a bench; he fucked her from behind, and Hajar had his cock in her mouth. Kalini’s stomach soured. She couldn’t believe he’d break a promise so easily. She looked at Leila. “But he’s doing something else now, so no, I don’t have anybody tonight.”
With those words, she knew she damned herself, but right now, she didn’t care. If Hajar got to give in to his fantasy, she would give in to hers.
“Wonderful.” Leila smiled, filling Kalini with warmth. The wetness between her legs intensified. “Your safeword is ginger; I’d like to try you out on a table, if you don’t mind.”
“Sounds good to me.” Kalini smiled and stood.
“You must address me as ‘Ma’am’ when you speak to me.” Leila took her tequila off the bar and threw it back. She clutched Kalini’s wrist with her other hand. Kalini gazed up at the taller woman, and she could feel—even with only the glances and this touch—her arousal building, unlike anything she’d ever felt for Hajar. Leila leaned down and brushed a kiss across Kalini’s lips. It was a soft but lingering introduction, and Kalini couldn’t suppress her grin.
“Come.” Leila pulled Kalini across the floor toward a tall table padded in purple leather. Restraining points studded the sides. This would be much more interesting than handcuffs at home.
And she would be in front of people. Kalini had gotten waxed yesterday, had plucked and shaved herself into submission. She knew—despite the fact she didn’t resemble some of these Amazonian goddesses—she looked good. Nevertheless, she’d never appeared in public like this.
“Strip,” Leila commanded. The tone of her voice left no room for argument. She might have been able to say no to Hajar in this situation but certainly not Leila. She had something Kalini wanted, and Kalini knew now she would do anything to get it.
She removed her boots, then her dress, and finally she took of her underwear. Leila walked around her.
“Very nice,” she said. “Now on the table.”
Kalini climbed on the table. She didn’t know how Leila wanted her. “In what position, Ma’am?” she asked.
“On your back.”
Kalini lay on her back and waited.
“Tell me if anything is too tight or uncomfortable.” Leila went to work.
First, she cuffed Kalini’s wrists, clipped them together, and attached them to a point over her head.
Next, a strap went across her chest, and Kalini felt the first niggles of doubt in her stomach. She hadn’t asked what Leila intended to do to her once she was secured to the table. The woman could do anything, really, including letting other people touch or molest her. Kalini knew she didn’t want that. She only wanted Leila.
Safeword. She had a way out. She just needed to remember it.
Cuffs went around her thighs, and Leila secured those with short straps to the sides of the tables. Then her ankles were cuffed as well, and Leila moved Kalini’s knees and clipped the ankle cuffs to the thigh cuffs. Kalini’s legs were spread wide, her knees in the air. She couldn’t move. She didn’t want to.
Leila left and returned moments later. She had removed her skirt and covering her sex was an elaborate harness system graced with a massive strap-on. Kalini felt more nervous now. The dildo seemed far larger than anything she’d ever seen in her limited experience.
“Ma’am, I don’t know that I can—”
“You can when I’ve prepared you.” Leila came to the table and stroked Kalini’s cheek. “Don’t doubt yourself so easily.”
Kalini nodded and stared at the ceiling. People had gathered around to watch, and she wanted to try her best to block them out. She wanted to pretend only Leila remained in the room with her.
Kalini glanced at Leila then. The woman climbed onto the table between Kalini’s legs. Kalini swallowed as Leila approached, her gaze predatory. She stopped, her mouth just inches from Kalini’s pussy.
“I’m going to lick you until you come. Then I’m going to fuck you like a man.”
Kalini gasped, and Leila smiled as she dipped her head to Kalini’s sex. First came a lick. Then Kalini felt the long, sharp nails of Leila’s fingers rake up and down the flesh of her thigh. Kalini pulled against her restraints, wanting to grab Leila’s head and force her to eat her out and stop the teasing. Leila’s tongue brushed to the left and right of Kalini’s clit but kept avoiding it. It was a delicious torture. Kalini squirmed, barely able to move an inch but trying desperately to get Leila to lick her properly.
Finally, Leila took a swipe at Kalini’s clit, and Kalini cried out. She wanted more. Leila’s fingers slipped into Kalini’s cunt, and Kalini rose up the few centimeters she was allowed to meet the invasion. She wanted it hard and fast, but Leila kept it slow and teasing.
“Anybody looking can tell how wet you are,” she whispered against Kalini’s skin.
“Please, Ma’am, make me come,” Kalini begged.
Leila chuckled and started licking Kalini’s clit again and sliding her fingers in and out of Kalini’s cunt. Kalini writhed on the table. She wanted to pinch her nipples but couldn’t. One touch there would send her off. Hell, even just thinking about fingers or lips plucking and sucking at her nipples…
“Ahhh!” Kalini came, the orgasm shuddering through her body like an express train. She cried out again as Leila continued to lick and nip at her clit, her pussy, the skin of her thighs.
“Now, you will take me,” Leila said. She crawled up Kalini’s body and lowered herself, first to lick Kalini’s nipples, then her lips.
Kalini could taste herself on the other woman, like mango and young coconut. She licked at Leila’s lips and darted her tongue between them. Kalini wanted to taste, to consume, to be a part of the exotic blonde Domme.
“Are you ready?” Leila asked.
“Oh, yes, Ma’am.”
The giant silicone cock parted her pussy lips and squeezed inside. Kalini hissed as she was overcome by the feeling of being so filled.
Leila sighed, her breath fluttering Kalini’s hair and lashes. “I have plugs buried in my own cunt and ass,” she told Kalini. “Every stroke affects me as well. And your cunt tasted so good, I don’t think it will take me long to come, but you must come again for me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The dildo continued to inch deeper until Kalini could feel the straps of the harness rubbing against her tender flesh.
Leila stayed like that for a moment before she started thrusting. Her strokes were fluid, like the movements of a ballet dancer rather than the jackhammering that Hajar favored. Kalini watched Leila’s body above her, watched the dildo sliding in and out of her stretched lips. She thought about the plug in Leila’s ass and wondered what that would feel like. She thought she might like to try it sometime.
She thought about hands on her breasts and fingers in her ass and the beautiful woman above her. She felt the dildo filling her, pushing her onward. Another orgasm gathered in that space below her belly, mustering like an army of sensation ready to make the final charg
e.
Leila’s lips came down on hers in a savage assault. Kalini gave in to it. Her mind stopped. She felt only her cunt and her lips and the cuffs keeping her still, the friction of the straps creating a luscious burn that only intensified her need. Leila’s thrusts became more adamant: short, quick drives.
“Come for me,” Leila demanded. Her words pushed Kalini over the edge again.
Leila’s call joined her own, and it seemed all other movement and noise around them ceased as they came together.
They lay like that for a while, Leila’s warm weight making Kalini feel secure and satisfied. The other woman didn’t pull out and leave for the shower like Hajar did. She rested there, her nose in the crook of Kalini’s neck.
Finally, she got up and unstrapped Kalini. Kalini’s legs wobbled, but Leila’s strong hands held her until she steadied herself. She dressed slowly, her muscles stiff and resistant.
“I hope I see you again,” Leila said. “Next time, you will kneel before me and eat my pussy.”
She walked off into the crowd.
“What the fuck was that?” Hajar demanded as he emerged from the audience. “You said no sex.”
“You were doing it, too.” Kalini started for the door.
“But—”
She turned on him, her mind made up in an instant. “Cancel my ticket to Mumbai. The wedding is off. And find somewhere else to fucking live.”
Hajar stopped dead in his tracks.
In one night, her world had turned upside down. She had destroyed an arranged marriage, her mother would disown her, and she had paraded naked in front of dozens of people. She was not the Kalini who had woken up this morning and put on her pantsuit to work at the advertising agency. She had become a different woman. Outside the club, the evening air felt crisp and cool. Kalini welcomed the sensation on her heated body and headed for home.
SEDUCTION BY PROXY
Evan Mora
Jeanine’s my best friend, has been since high school. Back then it was passing notes in math class and soccer practice after school, breaking down who said what to who and talking about boys. Then one day in senior year she says, “Heather, I’m a lesbian.”