Unspeakably Erotic

by D. L. King

  The orange Milan F-line streetcar clatters by as we turn up Laguna, its bell clanging at every stop and into the night. Each alley off of Laguna is named for a Gold Rush–era streetwalker, and as we pass by Lily Street we scamper right. Lily is narrow, dark, and shadowy, and there is some construction about halfway down. A tall, rickety chain-link fence surrounds the worksite, but the ally is empty of people. Passing by the fence I think about fucking and shudder. Your grip on my arm tightens. My cunt is soaking wet, and it has been this way for 170 minutes. You turn toward me, growl, roughly unzip my overall fly, push my shorts aside to cup my cunt, and then shove me face first against the cold metal fence. My knees buckle so I grab the chain-link. The steel is chilly and hard against my cheek. I’m stretched out against the fence, pressed firmly between your body and the metal. The fence is flexible, and gives slightly with a creak as you start fucking me with your fingers. We bounce together as you slide two, three, and then four fingers inside my cunt. The chain-link wire presses against my clit. You reach around, under my shirt and binder, and grab my nipple, twisting it the way I like. My cunt pulses and swells even more around your hand. You’re biting the back of my lower neck, snarling, and your teeth send sharp waves of pain down my back. My brain hates that kind of bitey pain, but my cunt disagrees and pulses and drips in adoration.

  I’m trying not to make noise, as the alley is lined with tall Victorian homes and we don’t want to cause any disturbances. I can see lights behind lace curtains being turned off, people walking from room to room getting ready for bed. You’re fucking me with your fingers curved inside my cunt, and your palm cupped. I shove my cunt down on your hand as hard as I can, wanting more of you inside of me. All I want is to be filled by you. I want your hand inside of me as deep as it can go, and you oblige.

  We don’t say anything as our soft grunts travel into the evening darkness. Your hand in my cunt, our bodies pressed against each other, and the white moon and the night air is all we need. With your mouth on my salty skin, your hand in my cunt, and held up by the cold metal fence, I finally come. We rest for a minute pressed together, and then head home to bed.

  SIMULTANEOUS

  Annabeth Leong

  I take one look at the way she’s set the room up and frown.

  Minnie catches the expression and her gaze skitters around, frantic and confused. I can see why. From one point of view, she’s done an improbably great job transforming the basement into a piercing parlor. We already owned the professional table—it works well for anything involving needles, which describes a lot of our favorite activities. To go with it, she’s obtained a black stand on rollers, onto which she has placed clamps, disinfectant, cotton, sharps and a disposal for one part of what we’re doing, and gloves and lube for the other part. There’s even an authentic-looking adjustable magnifying glass lamp.

  She’s put equal care into ambience. Nineties rock, leather and gunmetal melting wax, and a selection of posters of Hole, Sleater-Kinney, and Luscious Jackson.

  Minnie’s in a floor-length floral dress, a costume ring in her left nostril, black leather bands on her upper arms, and wild, smeary makeup that makes me think of Courtney Love. The look does make me want to throw her onto the table and fuck her, but that wasn’t the plan for today, so I keep the frown.

  “You need rope. You’re going to have to restrain me.”

  “Re— restrain you, Miss?”

  The way Minnie stammers is so cute. I give her my best predatory smile. “Yes. You don’t expect me to be able to hold entirely still while I’m getting pierced and fucked at the same time, do you? You don’t want Alice to touch my G-spot at the wrong moment, make my body jerk and mess up my nice new nipple rings.”

  Her face falls as she realizes the mistake. “Of course not.”

  “Go upstairs and get a bunch of rope. When you come back, I’ll punish you while we wait for Alice.”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  I wait to grin until she turns away. If I didn’t know Minnie’s drive to perfection, I’d have suspected her of making this mistake on purpose. It’s such a delicious addition to an already promising session. The three sensations I love most, in order, are sharp, precise pain, listening to Minnie plead for mercy, and the way an orgasm feels when it’s coaxed up from steady pressure on the G-spot. I had planned for two out of three, and it was downright considerate of her to add the third.

  While I wait for her to get back with the rope, I brush my fingers across my breasts, shivering as I think about the permanent reminder I’ll have of the things we do today. We’ve been playing with piercing for years, but we always let the wounds heal. This will be the first time I keep and live with the physical results, and I’ve been dreaming about this—and getting myself off to the idea of it—ever since I saw a certain blonde bad girl get her belly button pierced in an Aerosmith video.

  Minnie’s feet thump rapidly down the stairs, but she slows to a dignified walk before she enters my presence, lengths of colorful rope stacked in her arms, her expression half shamefaced but half excited. I love how she can’t seem to prevent either reaction. I have to work to keep my lips in their stern position.

  As she sets the rope down on the piercing table, I ponder various ways to make her squirm—I want to choose one we’ll both enjoy. Minnie’s not a masochist like me, and I learned early on that applying pain to her is cruel and grueling punishment, not fun punishment. Lucky for us, I’ve learned a lot of tricks over the years.

  “Do you know what you did wrong, girl?” I ask, my voice as sharp as one of our needles.

  She takes a quick breath in, her back muscles rippling. “Yes. I didn’t think enough about the things you’d need today.”

  “Do you think you deserve to be punished for that?”

  Minnie spins to face me, her mouth determined, eyes bright. “Yes, Miss.” There’s nothing improper in her tone or expression—she never purposely gives me any reason to criticize her—but I know her body language well enough to see she’s eager for what I’m about to do to her.

  “Get up on the table and pull your dress up to your armpits.”

  She does what I ask. It’s a real struggle to keep my attitude severe when she hikes the dress up and reveals the abundant brown flesh I love. I put my hands on her hips and have to remind myself that I have a purpose here—administering a punishment—and I can’t just start making out with her.

  I peel her panties slowly down her legs, listening for the way her breathing changes as she gets excited. Letting them fall to the floor, I sink to my knees and put my face between her thighs.

  “This . . . doesn’t seem much like a punishment, Miss.”

  I arch an eyebrow. Minnie doesn’t usually get mouthy with me. It’s really starting to seem like she’s angling for something harsher.

  I kiss her clit, picking up wetness from her pubic hair as I do. “The punishment,” I tell her, as I begin to explore, “is that you don’t get to come.” I place the tip of my finger at her entrance, very gently teasing her open. “I’m going to do all your favorite things, but you’re going to have to be careful not to enjoy them too much.”

  Something has Minnie really excited. Her pussy is already trying to suck my finger in, and her hips are rocking toward my mouth in tiny, rapid jerks.

  “I know you’re a good girl,” I say, giving her my finger, but my words are almost drowned out by her groan of pleasure as I slide in. “You know better than to come when I’ve told you not to. You don’t want to be punished even worse.”

  Then I fall to, licking her with the slow, heavy strokes she loves most. Her pussy spasms around my finger from the first moment—she’s clearly in the throes of that magical paradox where telling someone they can’t come brings them straight to the verge of a fast, strong orgasm.

  If I were in a different mood, I might ease off, helping her obey my command. Today is meant to be intense, though. Soon, Minnie’s hands are clutching at air, lighting on the back of my head only to tear away a mo
ment later, accompanied by her anguished cry. Her pussy gushes for me.

  “Miss! Please, Miss! You have to stop. I want to come. I need to come. Oh fuck, I’m gonna come. Oh fuck. Please stop. I can’t—”

  I’m a little surprised—given the way she started, it’s a wonder she held on more than a few minutes. She keeps up the begging while I ponder how long I ought to keep this up. It would be a lot of fun if Alice walked into the middle of this, but if that doesn’t happen in the next thirty seconds, I really don’t think Minnie will make it.

  “Miss!” Minnie’s halfway between a whine and a scream. The sound makes a shiver run down my back. It’s so delicious and desperate, so unmistakably sexual.

  A different voice echoes down the basement stairs. “Do you two need time alone? I can go get a coffee and come back later.”

  I grin into Minnie’s pussy, happy to have gotten my wish. “Come on down,” I call out, not entirely pulling away. I relish the way Minnie gasps as the breath behind my words stimulates her clit and labia. “I was just punishing Minnie while we were waiting for you.”

  “Punishing, huh? Shit, I wish someone would punish me like that.”

  Easing my hand out of Minnie’s cunt, I rise to my feet, grinning at the shock in her expression. “Don’t we all. Our Minnie’s a lucky, lucky girl, getting to enjoy having her pussy licked without being distracted by an orgasm.”

  Minnie moans, and Alice laughs, walking into my view. “Is that the game?” Her outfit reminds me of nineties-era k.d. lang, all slick butch appeal and cleverly gelled hair. Her toy bag is a black leather briefcase. She wears swagger well on her tiny frame, and I have a moment of raw lust looking at her.

  I love making appointments to get fucked by someone. It strikes me as dirty in all the right ways, and it has undeniable planning benefits.

  I pull Minnie against my side and kiss the top of her head. I may have said she was lucky, but I know I’m the lucky one.

  I hug Alice hello, and she touches a spot of wetness on my cheek with a smirk.

  “You smell good today,” Alice tells Minnie, making her brown cheeks redden.

  “You should help me punish her some more after our scene.”

  She pats her stomach. “I ate a big breakfast this morning. I think I’ll have the energy.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Minnie’s hand traveling toward her pussy and catch her wrist. “Ah-ah-ah. You need to get your head into the game and focus on the scene we planned for.”

  “Yes, Miss.” Minnie hangs her head as if ashamed, but she smells strongly of arousal. I notice that the blush extends all the way down her neck. If the dress weren’t bunched up around her armpits, I’d probably see her chest flushed as well. I grin at the thought of how completely I’ve gotten to her.

  Then I coax her off the table. “I think that’s going to be my spot.”

  Minnie nods, still looking dazed. She rights her clothes, finger-combs her hair, and generally tries to come back from near-orgasm. I enjoy watching her struggle to focus her eyes—nothing makes me feel like a better lover than seeing Minnie fuzzy and uncoordinated after I go down on her.

  I strip off my clothes while she gets herself together. Both Minnie and Alice have seen me naked plenty of times at parties, so I don’t feel there’s a need for a big reveal. I stretch out on the table. For an awkward moment, nothing happens, and then Alice takes a step closer to me, putting a hand on my ankle as if she’s afraid to touch me anywhere more interesting. “So, are we going to just start?”

  I chuckle. “There’s something Minnie keeps forgetting to do. She definitely seems to want more punishment. We’ll have to work on her together.”

  Minnie stiffens. “I’m sorry, Miss.” She grabs a handful of rope, and I take the opportunity to order her around just enough to fluster her.

  “Not spread-eagled,” I tell her. “I want my pussy right up by the bottom edge of the table, so Alice has good access to it. Feet on the edge of the table, calves folded against thighs. Lots of wraps. Really tight. I want to feel like I can’t move, and can’t quite take a full breath in.”

  The rope feels great—restrictive yet comforting, exactly the way I want it.

  Alice leans against one wall, watching, a smile playing over her lips. “I don’t know why more people haven’t caught on to your racket,” she says. “Given the number of rope bottoms I know who wish they could find a top, it’s fucking genius to order your sub to learn how to tie you up.”

  Minnie and I exchange a glance. She’d thought what I wanted was weird at first, and had even questioned whether I was really a dominant. In the past, her preferred role as a service submissive had caused her to spend a lot of time folding laundry precisely, washing dishes, and organizing shoes. Eventually, I’d made her understand that learning the specialized topping skills I wanted to receive was the most valuable service she could possibly perform for me, and we’ve never looked back.

  “Minnie’s special,” I say. “She deserves most of the credit.”

  “Mmm, that’s obvious.”

  If I weren’t in the middle of getting tied up, I’d have tossed something at Alice. Instead, I stick out my tongue.

  Alice returns the gesture. “Remember, you don’t get to order me around.”

  “That’s okay. When you can’t get a submissive, the next best choice is a perfectionist. I know you’ll pay close attention when I tell you what I want.”

  “You ought to find a submissive perfectionist.”

  “I already said Minnie’s special.” My girl flashes a grin at that, then quickly composes her face back to the helpful, expectant look she uses while we play.

  “Ha. Cute.” Alice swaggers closer.

  Minnie is nearly finished with the tying. I tilt my head back so I can look her in the eye. “Give me a kiss, babe, and then you can get the needles ready while Alice works on getting me going.”

  Minnie leans forward obediently, but the kiss she lays on me is anything but passive. It’s brain-melting, laced with fast-acting temptation and sharp with dirty promise. It ought to come with a warning label and an antidote.

  “Now that you’ve got me ready, Alice can just stick her hand right in my cunt,” I joke, gasping, as soon as Minnie lets up.

  All three of us crack up at that.

  Alice grabs a glove off the stand and snaps it on, then sets a bottle of lube on the table near my open cunt. “Surprise fisting? That’s the plan?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You can surprise me, but maybe don’t go quite that far.”

  Alice’s ungloved hand returns to my ankle. “I thought you were going to be precise with your instructions,” she teases. “I thought you were going to tell me exactly what you want.”

  Her fingers trail a few inches up my leg, just to the base of my calf muscle, but the touch makes me shiver. While Alice and I have exchanged friendly hugs plenty of times, and even touched incidentally in kinky settings, we’ve never focused on each other before, and it’s never been sexual like this.

  I glance at Minnie, who looks up from her preparations with the needles and offers a brief, reassuring smile. We’ve played with others plenty of times, both together and alone, but I always have a moment of panic when things get started, when I feel guilty and worried that it isn’t actually okay. Minnie’s calm attitude sets me free to return my attention to Alice.

  She looks a little smug, as if she knows exactly what she did to me with a slight touch to my lower leg. She shifts up to my knee, nimbly plucking at Minnie’s ropes as she moves, then comes to rest on my inner thigh. Her expression changes to something almost bloodthirsty. I have a feeling I’m going to be screaming at the top of my lungs once she gets started on me.

  “I want to come and get pierced at the same moment,” I say, returning to my mission statement for this encounter to keep from losing my bearings in the intensity of Alice’s expression.

  “I know that, darling. How do you want me to make you come?”

  I can te
ll she’s about to launch into a list of questions, but teasing is one thing and giving up control is another. Especially in a scene where Minnie is supposed to be submitting, I like to stay in the driver’s seat. “No toys. No tongue. Just fingers. Don’t warm me up. Cram me full right away, and make it hurt a little—or a lot. Then work up to—”

  My sentence cuts off because Alice takes me at my word. She administers a cursory amount of lube, and then shoves several fingers roughly into me. Once inside, she spreads them apart, making the invasion feel even bigger.

  Seeing I’m speechless, she grins, and forces another finger in to join the others.

  Wrapping her free arm around one of my thighs for leverage, she begins to fuck me, hard, her forearms flexing, grimacing from the force of it.

  For several minutes I just moan. Then I realize Minnie needs instructions. This is the problem with trying to be dominant while bottoming. It can be hard to maintain appropriate dignity and a minimum of protocol while screaming with ecstasy or begging for mercy.

  “Minnie, are you close?” I manage to ask.

  “You’re the one who’s close,” Alice retorts.

  “Very funny.”

  She’s not making it easy for me. Her wrist begins to twist as she fucks me. Soon, she’s flipped her hand all the way over from its initial position, so her fingers curl up toward my G-spot. She took me seriously about making it hurt, too. She pushes and drags against that spot, never slowing, and the feeling takes me right to the edge. It’s not that pain feels like pleasure to me, it’s that it’s a sensation I can’t back away from, at least not when it’s strong enough. That’s what really makes me come—sensations that grab me by the throat and don’t let go.

  Alice, with all her smug swagger, is dead right. She’s already got me on the verge of orgasm.