Gym Shoe

by Ivana Chopski

  ‘Am I your slave now, Linda?’

  I jerk away, irritated at the interruption. ‘Hush your mouth!’

  ‘Please, Linda,’ she whimpers, ‘spank me again!’

  ‘Don’t tell me what to do, slave!’ I force Robin’s legs further open. ‘For speaking you get punished. No more licking.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Linda. But please! I’m creaming myself here!’

  ‘You’re here for my pleasure, remember!’

  But I’m horribly close to coming. I must stop touching myself. I stare again at Robin’s gaping slit, the puffy lips, the curls tight with moisture. I grab my flimsy lace knickers, roll them between my palms until they’re a thin rope. Holding each end of the silky rope I slice it quickly up Robin’s slit. She screams and arches, tipping herself upwards, offering herself desperately.

  I scrape the knickers down hard, knowing that the unyielding fabric will be slicing right over the sensitive clit, scraping at the most tender parts. Robin’s clit is turning bright red. I start rubbing this prop faster up Robin’s cunt, thrilling to see her jumping and writhing about on the bed.

  I yank the knickers away and, as Robin howls in frustration, bucking off the bed, I slap her hard again on her exposed buttock, then dangle the knickers, tickling them over her wriggling body, up towards the straining breasts, those big, accentuated nipples.

  Robin won’t stop wriggling. The only way to stop her is to sit on her. I settle myself astride my slave, but as my over-heated pussy meets Robin’s, I nearly come there and then. I’m nearly mad with the feel of another woman’s sex arousing me like this. Now I can’t keep still. I crawl over Robin until I reach her moist, inviting mouth, and I press mine down. Her wet tongue flickers, probing inside my mouth, and now my climax is only seconds away.

  ‘Your task, slave, before I even think of letting you go.’ My voice is thick with desire as I grope for what I want. I crawl up her face until my pussy is over her mouth. ‘Now lick me.’

  I can feel Robin’s warm breath on my pussy. And then the licking starts. Soft, almost feathery caresses over my pussy lips, which pulse quietly, Robin’s wet tongue flicking up the crack then smoothing itself flat over the swollen lips.

  My head is spinning. So much hornier with a girl. I spread my legs open further, seeking more intense pleasure.

  ‘You taste so sweet, Linda.’

  I moan and strain, pressing down as Robin’s tongue laps faster, sensations sizzling in my cunt as Robin seems to suck my entire pussy while her tongue probes, forcing its way further in like a mini dick, then pulling back so that I grind harder into her face.

  She touches my clit and it’s like an electric prod. I can’t help it. I jerk frantically. Now she’s sucking again, so mercilessly. I rock faster, my legs open wider.

  I can hear Robin’s saliva as she feasts on my pussy. She’s stopped circling and sucking and she’s pushing her tongue in hard like a cock, flicking it from side to side, sliding over the clit as it thrusts in and out. She’s working me to a frenzy.

  Here I come. I grip the bed post, draw my hips back in a final glorious convulsion and my cunt, my whole body draws in tight as I come, pushing into Robin’s face, smearing my juices all over her, rubbing on and on until after the climax has faded.

  ‘What about me?’ she whimpers, shivering as I climb off her.

  I want to hold her. But I don’t want the game to stop. ‘I’m going to put the supper on, Robin. And you, my pretty, are going to wait right here.’

  Her luscious mouth pouts up again. ‘Not fair!’

  ‘Then maybe, if you’re very good, we can do it all over again!’ I pause in the doorway. ‘Just one thing, young lady. References. If it was all so good at your last place, why did you have to leave?’

  ‘Got chucked out!’ She smiles, stretches her leg perfectly like a ballerina. ‘The wife came back early from some business trip, didn’t she? Honey, I’m home!’’ She chuckles. ‘Found me tied up on their four-poster, legs wide open –‘

  ‘Pussy spilling all that rude redness!’ I gasp. ‘God, I can just see it! What else did she see?’

  ‘Joe on top, of course. Fucking me.’

  I can see it all, and it’s making me horny, the woman in the pinstripes watching, the man’s buttocks thrusting in between these lovely legs. My Robin’s legs. I come back to her, tickle my knickers over her breasts, over the mound of her crotch.

  ‘Never mind. It’s just me and you now.’

  Robin closes her eyes. ‘Hurry back, Linda.’

  ‘Oh, we’ve got all night.’ I can’t resist bending over and kissing my new lodger, tangling her tongue with mine. ‘And you’re going to be my new plaything.’

  Perfection

  by Cathryn Cooper

  They’d become friends years ago in the days when their men-folk had been golfing partners. From then on they’d shared worries, triumphs and babysitters, socialised a lot with their partners and with each other. The three of them lunched together and shopped together, and once a month on a Thursday evening they dined together. Each woman took her turn to host the event in her own place, cooking and preparing everything themselves.

  This evening, mellowed by good food, wine and the atmosphere of a room lit only by aromatic candles, they began to talk about what they were presently doing in their lives, their hopes for the future and how things had been in the days when they’d first met. It hurt to talk about their husbands in the days before they had departed, but naturally the subject of sex was eventually mentioned.

  ‘I’m in the market for a younger man,’ said Crystal, her dark eyes warm as brandy in the candlelit glow.

  The others laughed. ‘Hussy!’

  ‘Well I suppose there’s no point in having an affair with an older man,’ said Josie, tossing her head so that her red hair suddenly seemed to burst into flame.

  As the oldest, Greta was more circumspect. ‘Hmm. I don’t know about that. It depends if they can keep up the pace. I’m no hot totty teenager, but I’ve got experience! A toy-boy could learn a lot from me. An older man just wouldn’t be able to keep up!’

  They laughed at the joke, but their eyes glazed over with bittersweet memories, youthful distractions when they’d sighed for a look from a handsome boy and longed to be grown-up. Each slipped momentarily into another world, the one before they’d had husbands, families and responsibilities.

  ‘No,’ said Crystal shaking her head. ‘None of us want an older man. Not now.’

  ‘I had an affair with an older man when I was eighteen,’ said Josie. As though only just realising what she said, she blushed and lowered her eyes. The others noticed and were instantly intrigued.

  ‘Tell us,’ said Crystal.

  Greta leaned forward, her blue eyes bright with interest. ‘Yes. Do tell.’

  ‘Alright.’

  Josie studied the table. For a moment it seemed to the others that she was unable to continue. The moment was short lived. She took a deep breath and collected herself before she began.

  ‘He lectured in Greek history. I’d always loved the subject so was conceited enough to think I would have no trouble finishing the course and passing my exams. I found out to the contrary.

  ‘It was one thing to read Greek classics and history as they related to the legends and the Trojan wars and such like. It was different to be asked to dissect and diagnose occurrences and modern counterparts on paper.

  ‘Besides that, I was being invited to a lot of parties and was enjoying going to them.’

  ‘Were you getting laid?’ Crystal asked. There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice but envy in her eyes.

  ‘Of course I did – once or twice. But they were one night stands and not terribly satisfactory – the fumblings of green fruit and all that.’

  Greta smiled. ‘And the tutor was definitely not green fruit. A little over-ripe perhaps?’

  The others laughed. Josie smiled and a far away look came to her eyes.

  ‘OK, his skin was as scored as
an autumn apple. I used to think I would like to peel it away and find the smoother skin underneath it – the skin of his youth. I suppose thinking like that is all part of wanting to know someone better; knowing what’s underneath and knowing about their past.

  ‘His eyes were very blue and seemed to miss nothing. Like a lot of the students he taught, he wore his hair long and had a beard to match. It was bright blond – almost gold – but it had white streaks running through it. Not that it mattered. It flowed around him like a golden halo, and it was soft – very soft, very silky.

  ‘Some of the other students – especially the fellas – made comments about him trying to hold onto his youth and why didn’t he act and look his age. But of course they had their reasons for saying that. Whenever Cado was in the room he was the only man there as far as we girls were concerned.

  ‘There was a husky harmony in his voice and an alluring brightness to his eyes. We were drawn to him and sat enthralled as he deliberated about the reasons why modern civilisation venerated the one that had flowered in Ancient Greece.

  ‘He pointed out to us how many people and civilisations looked on Ancient Greece with envious eyes. Perfection, he said, was seen in its teachings, its scions, even in its buildings.’

  ‘What about him,’ asked Greta impatiently. ‘Never mind what he or you lot believed in, what did you get up to with him?’

  Josie licked away the dryness of her lips. ‘I will tell you. Cado, you see, wanted perfection in humans as well as discerning it in an ancient civilisation. We didn’t always give him that perfection. I was as imperfect as everyone else and ended up being called to his study after getting ticked off for not completing an assignment he had set us.

  ‘He opened the door and bid me enter. The room was shabby, but I pretended to be genuinely interested by the décor. I gazed at the piles of papers, books and coffee cups. There was an ancient leather chesterfield in one corner. Most of the walls seemed to consist of nothing but book-shelves.

  ‘Feeling his presence behind me was like being warmed by a coal fire. I felt the heat of his body on my back. I knew he was studying me, his eyes running over my body, perhaps assessing my shape and how my skin might feel; how I might respond if he touched me. Just being alone with him made me tremble with trepidation. Once the door was closed, he moved closer to me.

  ‘“Josie, isn’t it?”

  ‘I replied that it was. He didn’t say anything for a moment but hung his head slightly as though he were examining the hole in the carpet. I turned round. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back and I remember thinking, “what is he holding in them?”’

  ‘What was he holding?’ asked Greta.

  Josie smiled. ‘His courage.’

  ‘“I expected better of you,” he said. “I expected something close to perfection.”

  ‘“I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry!”

  ‘I couldn’t believe how emphatic I sounded. I hadn’t wanted to disappoint him. “I want to be perfect,” I said.

  ‘Something about his eyes changed as he looked at me. “Do you really mean that?”

  ‘“Yes.”

  ‘He nodded thoughtfully. “Then we will start again,” he said. “I will instil in you the discipline you need. You will accept that discipline and in doing so, you will grow in stature and maturity. Do you agree to this?”

  ‘I told him that I did. It was then that my education truly began. First I was to take off my clothes. I did it without hesitation. I so wanted to please him and be worthy of his idea of perfection.

  ‘I stood trembling, lean and firm and tingling with excitement. He told me to look at my reflection in a full length mirror.

  ‘The cool smoothness of his corduroy jacket briefly touched my back when he came to stand behind me. I sucked in my breath and saw my nipples grow. Transferring my weight from one hip to the other, I felt the sweet wetness erupt between my legs.

  ‘“See?” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “It is through this flesh that I will ignite your mind.”

  ‘He took my hand and told me to bend over his desk. I did as he asked.

  ‘“How does it feel?” he asked ‘I told him that the leather of the desk top was cold to my nipples. I told him my breasts were flattened against the desktop and that its edge was nudging against my sex. Besides telling him that the carpet felt gritty beneath the soles of my naked feet, I also told him that my belly was sticking to the desk.

  ‘“And which part of your body is most in touch with the world around you, Josie?” he asked

  ‘“My mind?”

  ‘“Ultimately,” he replied. “But your mind gains perception through your naked bottom. Your buttocks are merely in touch with the air around them. Because of that it is sending more explicit messages to your brain than any other part of your body. It is telling your brain that it is vulnerable. After all, it is only logical that the roundness of a woman’s behind can attract a caress, a slap, or an act of buggery. So your mind is in tune with it…perfectly in tune.”

  ‘I closed my eyes, longing for him to touch me. He spoke for some time before his hand ran down my back. I remember trembling as he fondled my bottom.

  ‘I knew the discipline would come, in fact I found myself yearning for it. He used a ruler and quoted something from Homer each time the ruler smacked my ass. I remember gasping.

  ‘“Six to start with,” he said.

  ‘“More,” I moaned. I couldn’t help it you see. He’d awoken something in me, something I hadn’t known was there.

  ‘“More. Yes. More,” he said. I waited for the blows. Instead I heard the sound of running water. “Raise yourself slightly,” he said. I did so. He slipped a bowl of ice-cold water beneath each breast. I gasped again. My bottom was on fire. My nipples were hardening in response to the chilled water. “Now you are experiencing both heat and cold in two different spheres of your body. You will raise your arms above your head and lie as flat to the desk as possible. I will not resume this discipline until you do this.”

  ‘I did it gladly, longing for his attention and also for his approval. I WANTED him to think me perfect.

  ‘At the closing of my eyes, my senses were ignited. I heard the sound of the ruler disturbing the air. I heard it smack my flesh and felt the warmth of its contact. My behind stung. My breasts stung, but differently and yet both the same. This wasn’t sex; it wasn’t sleaze; it was purely and simply erotic, a delicious awakening of the mind, the body and the senses.

  ‘I muttered unintelligible sounds before asking him if I was now perfect, perfect enough to entice him into my body.

  ‘I heard the rustle of clothes before he entered me. The most amazing thing was that he did not touch my breasts or any other part of my body as he fucked me. Only his penis, his pubic hair and the front of his thighs touched my body. I understood what he wanted me to do. With my arms thrown over my head and my eyes closed, I was to concentrate only on the areas of my body that touched his. And I did concentrate. Sex can never be the same with one man as another, and yet the differences are relatively slight. With Cado it was completely different. It’s hard to describe those initial shivers of apprehension as arousal becomes more intense, more urgent. Behind the darkness of my eyelids, I truly experienced my climax taking over my body. Waves of pleasure crept over my skin. I’m sure I could also feel it creeping along just beneath the surface. On one level it seemed to be touching me lightly, no heavier than the caress of a bunch of peacock feathers. On another level it was causing my blood to boil and turn to steam in my veins.

  ‘When my orgasm came I shuddered but did not cry out. I knew he didn’t want that. I held the experience within me. It had no sound because it had no form. It was part of me and would remain part of me forever. Cado gave me that.’

  Josie smiled softly to herself. ‘I don’t care if I was only eighteen and he was more than twice my age. He was one of the most enduring experiences of my life – perhaps the only one.’

  Her friends clapped.<
br />
  ‘What a dark horse you are, Josie Thompson!’ exclaimed Greta.

  Crystal shook her head. ‘Funny. I thought somehow that you were above that kind of thing.’

  Josie grinned as she reached for her walking stick. ‘I’ve tried most of the vices, Crystal, and I have to tell you, sex is the most enduring of my memories. I can still dream, and still remember how it was. Sex is what’s kept me going.’

  Her friends nodded in unison.

  ‘Here’s to young men,’ said Greta. They raised their glasses in a toast and drained the last of their wine. Another evening was over, another chance to relive the passion of their youth.

  Paddles

  by Caesar Pink

  For the evening’s activities Heather was dressed in a skin-tight rubber mini-skirt, a pair of three-inch spiked heels, and a half T-Shirt with the word ‘Goddess’ written on the front in silver glitter. The plan was to visit an S&M club in Manhattan called Paddles. Although this was hardly my first journey into New York City’s just-barely-underground BDSM scene, I still felt a bit dubious about the whole idea. The way one might feel about going to church after a night of drinking or to the mother-in-law’s house for a tea party. Heather on the other hand, occasionally felt the need for a public spanking. Don’t ask why. I don’t know the answer.

  When I first explored the BDSM scene one of the first things that surprised me was that there was very little sex mingled with S&M play. Most people outside the scene tend to think of it as a sexual kink, but inside the scene it seems to be separated from sexual activities. It is rare to see people even kissing or caressing each other at public play parties.

  The people in the scene take it all very seriously. They are very involved with their toys. On multiple occasions I have watched people present a show and demonstrate the contents of their portable toy boxes, often describing, with obvious pride, every paddle, whip, cuff, or God-knows-what other objects of playful cruelty. What was even more comical is the sincere interest their compatriots seemed to have in these demonstrations. To invent a new way to use a common household item as a spanking device is a highly respected achievement.