I rolled my head to the side so I could see her face. My eyes kept drifting to her nipple, though. Twist, twist. “A lot of people love you, Mari. You’re smart and kind and a good lover. You know how to be there for people. Plus you have great taste in friends.” She smiled at me indulgently, wiggling her bare hips, and I grinned in spite of myself. “Being butch or femme or a BDSM queen isn’t everything. Seems to me the problem you’re having is that she’s in demand, and you want to get her attention in a big way.”
I nodded. June’s mouth quirked again. “I think you can get this girl, if you use your strengths. By which I mean, with a little help from your friends.” She ruffled my hair and pushed me off her, then sat up and spread her legs, showing me her still-swollen clit. “I’ve been thinking about a hood piercing. What do you think? Hot?”
June was already full of holes—tits, eyebrows, ears, lip, navel. “Yeah, sure, it would be totally hot. I’ll hang cute little charms from it and we’ll take pictures,” I told her. She giggled.
“How convenient for you I haven’t had it done yet. Now that I’ve heard your story about Jack, I’m kind of intrigued myself. And I’ve got an idea of how you can impress her.” With her free hand, she grabbed a spiked leather collar from my shelf and draped it about her neck prettily, batting her eyelashes. I looked at her uncomprehendingly. “What Mistress Mari wants, she gets. Just let me make a phone call.”
“‘Mistress Mari’…? June—what? Wait!” But she had already lunged at the phone and was dialing, then chattering excitedly. I could hear her partner Trish’s voice on the other end. Heat and cold crawled over my skin as June’s plan became clear. That it would get Jack’s attention seemed pretty certain. But once I had it, would I know what to do with it? June wanted me to stick my cock out big time, metaphorically speaking—and yes, okay, if we were getting symbolic, I had a big black cock in the closet as thick as my wrist. But I wasn’t at all sure that I could live up to its hard and shining promise.
There was a new private women’s SM club opening in the basement of a coffee shop frequented by alternative types, and I felt sure Jack would be at the grand opening party. June had agreed to be my date, and we went out as a Dom/sub pair for the first time. We entered and I paid our admission. Trance music played in the background while women in leather, latex, and plain old skin chatted over the snack table. In the back of the large semifurnished room, heavier play was beginning. June shrugged off her full-length raincoat, revealing that underneath she wore nothing but a red leather collar, wrist cuffs, and matching panties. The panties seemed to defy gravity: there were no straps holding them on her hips.
“How does that thing stay on?” I hissed to her as she hung the coat on a peg and I snapped a chain leash to her collar. One of her nipples, already erect, brushed my arm. The metal pushed through it was warm.
“It’s got a built-in dildo! How good is that? Now get into role, I’m your slave for the night, remember?” In heels, I was taller than she was, and as I looked down into her mischievous eyes, a surge of power straightened my spine. I was almost surprised when she dropped her eyes demurely. June and I usually played only with sensation, not much with dominance and submission, but tonight... Pleasure prickled in my belly, and I gave the front of her stiff panties a tug. She gasped.
“And I intend to make the most of you, my sweet little toy,” I purred in her ear. June actually shivered. For a moment, I forgot my apprehension about what I was letting June do for me. She wanted it, it was true; she’d almost certainly enjoy it. But still, she was here because she loved me and wanted to give me a gift that only she could give. But putting her body out there for me like that—I’d lost a lot of sleep over it, loath to risk any damage to a precious friendship, or to June herself. I’d talked myself out of her plan once and she’d talked me back into it. June had done her research. Jack had worked as a professional piercer for a few months, back in her last city. And so I relented.
All of that brought us here, with my hand tugging indirectly on June’s pussy and a little wax-sealed envelope hidden in my pocket, and me acting like a big bad top when really I was about half drunk on power and half as scared as a little girl. I stopped tugging and moved my hand to June’s chin, tilting her head up and kissing her lightly on the lips. “Let’s go in.”
We amused ourselves for a while. I ordered June to bring me a drink, then threw her over my knee anyway for a nice character-building spanking. She sat at my feet as I talked to friends and finally I spotted Jack, just finishing a flogging scene in a back corner.
“It’s time,” I said to June in a low voice and deliberately unhooked the leash from her collar. Her eyes were still lowered, and I wondered if she felt as nervous as I did. If I’d seen fear in her eyes I think I would have called the whole thing off. But instead, I handed her the envelope.
“Yes, Mistress,” she said, in a subdued voice I barely recognized. And then she turned, head coming up like a queen’s, and walked with a stately gait across the room. June offered Jack the card with a low bow, and I watched Jack break the seal and read the contents, her eyebrows slowly climbing. She took June’s chin in her hand and turned it from side to side, looking into her eyes—she seemed to be asking June a series of questions that I couldn’t hear over the music and the sounds of laughter, pain, and pleasure. Finally Jack nodded. From across the room, she met my eye and inclined her head. Accepted.
I nodded back coolly, but my heart was pounding. June, evaluating my nervousness, had advised me not to watch. It would preserve my image, she said, and also make the scene more of a gift. I fixed my eyes on a spanking that was going on in an opposite corner and tried to look calm. How long before I knew whether or not this was a horrible mistake? I almost sat on my hands to keep myself from chewing my nails. Waiting.
It was over more quickly than I’d feared. June came back to me flushed and excited, carrying her panty-dildo in her hand. Her ass and thighs glowed with red heat where Jack had beaten her to start the endorphins flowing, and a shiny silver ring dangled between her labia. I grabbed a smooth pillow for her to sit on and gathered her up into my arms as she giggled and wiped tears from her eyes. “Are you okay?” I whispered to her.
“Ohh, yes. More than okay. Oh wow.” She giggled again, sniffled, then buried her face in my chest. I rocked her gently. After a moment, she looked up at me, her eyes red but her mouth beaming. “I think she’d only done clit piercings a few times before. Being offered the chance to do it as part of a scene—it was a real treat, she said. We definitely got her attention,” she added dreamily. “She had four of her friends hold me down. And she did a really good job. Nice and centered...” She trailed off, her legs falling open a bit wider so I could appreciate the brand-new sparkle on the hood of her reddened clit. I stared. I couldn’t help it.
“Thank you, darling,” I whispered, cradling her. Emotions churned in my gut—pride, yes, and relief, and a sense of exultation that June would always think of me when she looked at that ring. And triumph too, because even now I felt Jack’s gaze resting on us from across the room. Again, I met her eye. It felt like lightning. But I turned back to June, soon to dress her and take her to the car on wobbly legs, then to put her to bed with Trish and a tube of antibiotic cream. I felt like a god: Women love me so much they let strangers pierce their clits for me. But in bed alone that night, I swung back and forth between a floaty high and a gut-twisting freakout. I could still see Jack’s eyes behind my eyelids.
Trish was my next accomplice, joining me three weeks later at the club’s next women-only party. Her sturdy body was clothed in a plain corset that left her upper chest and shoulders bare. Her chaps, once she tossed her coat aside, were of the same material and left her ass tantalizingly nude. I hadn’t played much with Trish before, so I followed her lead while simultaneously trying to look in charge. She had a swagger to her walk that didn’t go away even when she bottomed.
When we’d reached a suitable corner of the room, she dropped to her
hands and knees and I perched on her broad back. We scoped out the room while I tried out the steel finger claws she’d lent me. Soon her shoulders were covered with geometric designs drawn in bright pink welts. Trish was quiet and stoic as a bottom, but I could feel the change in her breathing under me as I pressed harder, and my cunt grew warm against her leathers. I fought the playful urge to carve my initials, though. That would be tacky.
Trish gave a grunt suddenly, and I saw that Jack had joined the party. She stood silhouetted against the brighter lights in the registration area, squinting into the dimness—looking for someone? That’s my cue. I rose from Trish’s back and Jack’s head turned toward me and focused. My hand twitched, making the claws click together with an eerie tk-tk-tk-tk. Behind me, I felt Trish rise and pick up her bag. I nodded to Jack; she inclined her head, waiting.
The scenario this time was Trish’s specialty, and one she rarely got to indulge in our relatively inexperienced kink community—she loved fire play. Her bag was stocked with a fire extinguisher, rubbing alcohol and Q-tips to apply it, and her skin was freshly shaved to minimize the smell of burning hair. She winked at me. I handed her the envelope from my pocket. It was beginning again.
I hadn’t known, but it was Jack’s first time topping with fire, and Trish was an excellent teacher. Before long, a small crowd had gathered to watch the lesson as Jack painted Trish’s skin with small amounts of rubbing alcohol and lit it. Sometimes she traced the designs I’d left on Trish’s back to produce flaming triangles, pentagrams, and spirals, putting the fire out a moment later with the stroke of a steady hand. Sweat ran down both of their faces and dripped on the floor. It was beautiful. They were beautiful.
I watched from the edge of the small crowd, and when the scene was over, Jack took a pencil from a hidden pocket. Using Trish’s much-tortured back as a writing surface, she scribbled something on the note I’d sent. They shook hands. Jack disappeared into a knot of admirers, and then Trish was standing before me, grinning. Her short hair stood up in spikes, soaked from her sweat, and her fingers left smudges of carbon on the card. The crabbed handwriting simply read, “Same time next Friday,” with an address. Trish nudged me. “I think you have a date.”
Yes, yes I did. And, no doubt, I had several more nights of exultation and gut-twisting anxiety ahead. Now that I had Jack’s attention, what was I going to do with it?
June and I spent a lot of time on the phone that week as I fretted. I didn’t know what to wear. I didn’t know what to say. I’d created all this tension; what could I offer as a climax? I certainly couldn’t bottom like June or Trish. And even if I had excellent taste in single-serving slaves, I couldn’t top like Jack. How could I ask even to bottom to her, let alone top her? “You’ll think of something, honey,” June chirped cheerfully. “Now, I know just what outfit you should wear...”
June was right, and not just about how to dress. By the time the end of the week rolled around I knew what I had to do, because it was the riskiest thing I could think of.
Ten o’clock that Friday found me ringing the bell at Jack’s townhouse, wrapped in a long black leather trench. I’d worn no make-up and no perfume, and from beneath the coat rose the pleasant spicy, animal smell of my body, a bit too warm in the coat on this early spring night. Anticipation rather than chill made me shiver.
She opened the door. I noticed again the way the curve of her braids emphasized the roundness of her cheeks, the small chin that gave her face a heart shape. Was that a smile on her full lips? She motioned me in without a word. My hand brushed the sleeve of her full silk robe, the sensation like a cool breath on my skin.
The large room beyond the foyer was about as dramatic as I could have imagined. Her walls were nearly covered with tapestries, shelves stacked with books, sculptures made out of driftwood and the skulls of animals, sticks and staves fluttering with feathers, jars of spices, herbs hanging from the ceiling. There was an altar with a scrying ball draped in black and a curved knife laid next to it. As if it were an afterthought, a heavy wooden chair was shoved against the wall, its arms and legs equipped with heavy leather straps.
I almost lost my courage. But if Jack was going to laugh at me and throw me out, I wanted it to be because of something I’d done, not because I’d frozen like a scared rabbit at the sight of her living room. Or...whatever it was.
She touched my arm and, to my credit, I managed not to jump. Instead, my breathing quickened. The room smelled like dust and wood and jasmine. No. The jasmine was her.
“What did you come here looking for?” she asked me softly. She was not a large woman, but her voice was low and resonant, too big for her rib cage. I took a deep breath and faced her. We were the same height. I was looking directly into her eyes, but could not read their expression.
I let my coat fall open, revealing my simple velvet dress—no leather, no corset, no chains or buckles, no handkerchief tucked in a back pocket to indicate top or bottom. I looked at her frankly. It didn’t matter if she laughed at me, because this was the truth. “I came here to make love with you. You’re strong and beautiful and I’d like to give you pleasure.”
A second ticked by, and I remembered being at the top of the free-fall ride at the amusement park, the magic moment when the car’s supports unlock and in a spasm of ecstasy and terror, you know you are about to plummet.
Jack’s eyes widened in surprise. And then she smiled, a more relaxed and genuine smile than I’d yet seen grace her gorgeous face. “That’s about the last thing I thought you’d say. And...” She paused, and laughed a little. Was that a tear at the corner of her eye? “I top so much. That seems to be the only thing anyone ever wants from me, sometimes. Like people forget that there’s a woman wielding that cane. So...”
She ran her fingers down the front of my dress, between my breasts. I caught her hand at my belly and held it—feeling another rush of power, but different than it had been with June. No one was topping, no one was bottoming, but all the intensity and control we’d learned in scenes had flooded to the surface, pooling between us and making us both flush with desire. “Yes, Mari. Thank you. I would like that very much.”
She led me to a bedroom and an old-fashioned bed with a colorful quilt. Woven rugs in cheery hues warmed the floor, and daisies glowed in a vase on the windowsill. The room seemed to come from another planet than the first. Jack saw my expression and dimpled a little. “You’re the first person I’ve brought in here, since I moved,” she said. “And I barely know you, but...”
“It feels right,” I finished for her, and stopped her mouth with a kiss.
I barely knew her, but there was nothing casual about our sex. Our lovemaking was all delight and discovery, our voices whispering encouragement, telling the secrets of our bodies. I writhed under the tight pressure of her lips on my nipple, and tangled her braids in my fingers as I drew her toward me with my other hand, easing my white thigh between her dark ones, her juices already flowing to wet my skin. And this is what I wanted most—our bodies fitting close together, my breast between hers, my mound burning against her hip, each breathing hotly through the other’s mouth in a kiss that was a dance and a melting-together and a song all in one. We ground against each other slowly, savoring the scent we made—sweet and spicy, floral and animal—and I felt my senses open wide, my fingers tingling with the texture of her velvet skin, ears filled with the sound of her breath and her low moans. My guard had fallen down so far that when she stroked a hand up my thigh and buttock, I shuddered as if she’d tongued my slit. Sensitized beyond endurance, I came in a scream and an explosion of color behind my eyes, and as I writhed in ecstasy I felt her follow me, the shaking of my thigh against her cunt sending her over the edge.
We lay there in each other’s arms without talking for a time, letting our breathing slow, the sweat cooling on our skin. Later, we would murmur to each other: “beautiful,” “so hot,” “feel so good,” “wonderful,” “so special.” But now that I had what I wanted, the guilt came.
Hadn’t I gotten here on false pretences, June and Trish helping me look like far more impressive a top than I was? “Jack,” I whispered. “I have a confession. June and Trish, they’re my friends and playmates, they aren’t really—”
“Shh,” she told me, laying a finger against my lips. “I know.”
“You do?” I looked at her in utter confusion. “How—?”
She chuckled. “Girl, it’s the twenty-first century. We have the Internet. I asked around.” Dumbstruck at my naïveté, I only stared, causing her to laugh harder, her belly vibrating against mine. “Your friends must really love you. I had to invite you over, to find out what made those hot little bottoms try so hard.” She rifled briefly through a drawer at her bedside and turned back with a snapping sound, her fingers freshly sheathed in a black latex glove. Reaching between us, she slid a finger into my still-dripping cunt. I swallowed. “Now, oh beloved-of-many-women”—she smiled sweetly—“shall we go again?”
Traffic Report
Angela Koenig
“We’re on the road again with Barbara Finnigan and KOIM’s first traffic report of the day. Good morning, Barbara. Any surprises for us out there?”
“So far it’s what you’d expect this early, Linda. All major routes are moving normally.”
Barbara continued reporting while I wondered, not for the first time, what the owner of that low, smoky-toned, honey-smooth voice looked like. I had the impression of thick red hair and sultry green eyes, someone still awake from a night of hunting pleasure through tangled, silky sheets. Listening to Barbara was one of the reasons I didn’t mind getting up before the birds.
“For Traffic Tab, I’m Barbara Finnigan, keeping tabs for you.”
“Thanks, Barbara. Nice work on the traffic; can you do anything about the weather?” Today was predicted to be hot.
Extreme Passions Page 10