Unspeakably Erotic

by D. L. King

  “We’ve got a kind of cool-down area in there,” Anna said, jerking her head toward the door to the dungeon. “But it’s past the main room. I didn’t think you’d want to go through that.”

  No, Taylor wouldn’t have. She swiped her hand across her forehead. The sweat was already beginning to dry on her skin, not just on her face but her back and chest as well, making her camisole cling uncomfortably.

  “If you need more space, there’s the apartment upstairs too,” said Anna.

  Taylor peered up the narrow switchback staircase. This was it for the play party, she supposed. Through the dwindling fog of anxiety, she felt a pang of disappointment. This was backing down, confining kink to fantasy for the foreseeable future.

  Anna stood, moving toward the dungeon door. “Be right back.”

  She was gone less than two minutes, and when she returned, she had a set of keys in her hand. Although Taylor took up nearly the full width of the stair, Anna was able to step around her easily. Taylor caught a whiff of cocoa butter and aerosol hairspray that faded as Anna climbed the staircase.

  “Come on up.”

  Unsteadily, the bell on her collar ringing, Taylor heaved herself to her feet and followed until they reached a door marked with a gold B, which Anna unlocked, opened, and waved Taylor through.

  The door opened into a room that was distinctly broke-college-student in its atmosphere and decor. Two mismatched couches, one black vinyl and the other covered in a brown floral pattern straight from the 1970s, were pushed together into a T at one corner and covered in books, clothes, and other clutter. The coffee table was stained. There was nothing on any of the walls but a single black streak to the left of the door.

  “Terrible, isn’t it?” said Anna. “David and Vanessa spend all their time and money on the dungeon. Have a seat.”

  Taylor shuffled to the vinyl sofa and sat. She realized suddenly that she still had her handbag over her shoulder, and she shrugged it off, letting it sag next to her on the sofa.

  “Thanks,” she said. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, quavery and weak. She cleared her throat and tried to speak louder. “You didn’t have to leave.”

  Shrugging one shoulder, Anna went to the other sofa. “I’m only the backup DM.” As soon as she’d sat, she kicked off her heels one at a time with a sigh like she’d just settled into a relaxing bath. “And spending time with a pretty kitten is more my style anyway.”

  Taylor’s chest seized so suddenly she thought at first it might’ve been another attack, but it was followed by a rush of warmth and a bright, bone-deep feeling of pleasure. She thinks I’m a pretty kitten.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

  The pleasure faded and Taylor drooped. “Not really. I just, um. Groups of people make me . . . anxious.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  Anna’s tone wasn’t harsh or accusatory, but Taylor felt her cheeks heat with shame anyway. She ducked her head. “It’s . . . I mean, it’s what you do, isn’t it? When you’re . . . kinky.”

  “Ahh. You’re new to the scene,” said Anna.

  It wasn’t a question, but Taylor nodded anyway. Then she heard the sofa rustle and creak, and lifted her head to find Anna standing and coming closer. Taylor scooted toward the armrest so that Anna could fall into the seat beside her.

  “Can I give you some advice?” Anna said. “When it comes to kink, worry about you. Not what other people do. What do you want to do?”

  Taylor didn’t even have to think about it. She’d been imagining it for so long, dreaming about it, even practicing it when she was alone: dressing in her collar and ears and getting down on her knees, crawling around the apartment, thinking about how she would—

  “Be a pet,” Taylor said. “I want to lie in someone’s lap while they pet me and scratch me and call me a . . . a good girl.”

  It was the first time she’d said any of it out loud. She’d thought it countless times, even typed it more than once, but to hear herself say it, to feel her mouth forming the words was . . . it was freeing, somehow. It melted some of the lingering tension from her shoulders and quieted the last of the anxious rattle inside her.

  Anna didn’t even blink. “You don’t need a play party for that. You just need to find someone who wants a pet.”

  But how? Taylor thought. The longing in her yawned wide, threatening to swallow her whole; suddenly she was seventeen again, her anxiety untreated and even more crippling, constantly wondering, How do normal people do this?

  Then she breathed, and she was twenty-six and here, in an apartment above a dungeon with a gorgeous woman in a textbook Domme outfit who had called her a pretty kitten and led her upstairs and made her feel safe. Groups of people were a problem, obviously, but one familiar person—that was doable.

  Taylor steeled herself. Her voice wavered slightly when she asked, “Are you offering?”

  For a long moment, Anna only looked at her with a thoughtful expression. Then she laughed, a short breathy huff of amusement. “I didn’t bring you up here to take advantage.”

  Something deep in Taylor cringed and shriveled, and commanded that she do the same. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. “That’s—that’s not what I asked.”

  Anna considered her a moment longer, then lifted her arm, extending one of her elegant hands in a clear invitation. “Come here.”

  Taylor’s face burned, her chest so tight it almost felt like her rib cage would crack and crumble. Still, she obliged.

  The sofa was too small for her to lie with her legs and spine straight, so she folded her body instead: bringing her knees close to her chest and resting her right cheek on Anna’s thigh. Her collar jingled, and her cat ears were jostled. Several strands of hair fell into her face, although Anna immediately brushed them back into place, dragging her fingertips along Taylor’s scalp. Taylor shivered and pushed her head instinctively into the touch.

  “That’s a good girl,” Anna murmured, repeating the motion. “Such a good, pretty kitty.”

  Taylor felt the impact of the praise throughout her whole body, from the Jell-O-y sensation in her legs to the tingling in her scalp as Anna raked her fingers again through Taylor’s hair. Yes, she thought fervently. Yes, I am. She turned her head, burying her face in Anna’s leather pants and urging Anna to explore even more of her.

  Generously, Anna indulged her. She followed the slope of Taylor’s scalp to her crown, where she rubbed in firm but gentle circles, gathering strands of Taylor’s hair around her fingers. Taylor moaned softly when Anna eventually moved on, although she quieted when Anna only strayed to her nape. She squeezed once and then stroked lower, skimming over the leather collar and trailing between Taylor’s shoulder blades and along the curve of her spine before reversing.

  It went on like that, Anna stroking up and down her back while Taylor breathed and let her. She tried to remain still, not wanting to risk interrupting Anna’s petting, but she couldn’t stop from occasionally arching into Anna’s hand and relishing the faint pressure against her skin.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” Anna said every time she did. “Such a good kitty.”

  Taylor felt warm and safe. She floated, calm and contented as a cat in the sunlight until eventually Anna’s hand veered from its path and ventured up to the wire band at the top of Taylor’s head.

  “I like these,” she said, caressing one of the cat ears. “They’re cute.”

  Cute, not childish. Taylor’s toes curled in pleasure and she turned, stretching, onto her back, cuddling even closer to Anna.

  “Also this.” Anna flicked the bell of Taylor’s collar, making it ring loudly. “Are these all your accessories?”

  Are good kitties meant to talk? Taylor wondered drowsily. But Anna clearly expected an answer, so Taylor licked her lips and obeyed. “No. I have a tail, one of the plug things, in—”

  She gestured vaguely to where her handbag was now half-sunken behind the cushion and armrest. Anna reached for it, jostling
Taylor and making her grumble in protest. When she had the handbag in hand, Anna paused.

  “Do you mind?”

  Taylor didn’t, so Anna unzipped the bag and pulled out the tail plug while Taylor watched. The sight of her hands, so gentle and graceful, stroking the length of the thick black fur just as she’d stroked Taylor’s back, was distinctly erotic in a way that the petting somehow hadn’t been.

  Then Anna touched the plug, circled it with her thumb and index finger as though measuring the size, and Taylor’s cunt clenched. That had been in her, once. She’d cleaned it since then, obviously, but still. She remembered the hard, unrelenting weight of it in her ass, how strange it had felt and how wet she’d gotten.

  She summoned her voice again. “You can . . . put it in me. If you want.”

  Anna gazed down at her. There was an intensity in her expression, a heat in her eyes, that Taylor hadn’t seen before. She’s turned on, Taylor thought. This is turning her on.

  “Yeah,” said Anna. “All right. Can you move for me, sweetheart? I’m gonna need to pop back downstairs for a sec.”

  As soon as Taylor moved, Anna was up and out the door. Taylor listened to the sound of her footfalls on the staircase, brisk and light. Eager.

  She removed her panties while she waited, then positioned herself on her hands and knees, facing the door.

  When Anna returned, she had a box of black latex gloves and a bottle of lubricant. Her cheeks were flushed, her breasts heaving from exertion. Taylor rose onto her knees for as long as it took for Anna to sit, and then she lowered her hands to the cushion on the opposite side of Anna’s legs.

  Anna balanced the gloves and lube on the armrest, along with the tail, which she draped over the sofa, smoothing her hand over the fur.

  “Good girl.”

  Anna’s voice was warm and thick with affection. She cupped one hand under Taylor’s chin and rested the other on the back of Taylor’s head, petting her hair. Pleasure bloomed in Taylor’s chest and spread its tendrils throughout her body.

  “Not quite what I had in mind though. Can you move for me, you pretty thing?”

  With a gentle pressure on her nape, Anna drew her head down and down until her elbows bent, her arms folded completely, and her cheek was flat against the sofa cushion, her bottom still up.

  “Perfect,” said Anna.

  Self-consciousness reared its head, reminding Taylor that she’d only trimmed the hair on her vulva, that she hadn’t used an enema earlier, that—

  But no. She was a pet now. She was less than human. No one would judge her, any more than they would judge a cat for meowing for table scraps or napping on a pile of freshly folded clothes.

  She settled, remaining in place even when Anna let go and reached for the supplies on the armrest. Taylor heard the snap of a glove being put on, and then the snick of a lid being opened. There was a hand on the small of her back, where her camisole had ridden up, and another between her asscheeks. One slick finger circled her hole, making Taylor shudder, before pressing inside.

  It felt strange, unnatural. Taylor’s muscles threatened to tense, her body insisting that nothing was supposed to be going up that way. She shushed it silently. She was a pet now. What did she know about how things were supposed to be?

  Eventually, the feeling of awkwardness subsided. Anna probed deeper, her knuckles digging into the sensitive skin around Taylor’s hole, and Taylor moaned, her hips jerking. Immediately, the finger slipped out, and Taylor moaned again at how open she felt, how dirty.

  “Shh,” said Anna. “You’re doing so good. Just a little more, sweetheart.”

  There was another soft snick, followed by a quiet rustling, and then Anna was touching her again, this time pushing two fingers into Taylor’s hole. They were so wet that they made a soft squidging sound as they slipped inside, and Taylor felt a bit of lube leak out and dribble down her perineum. Anna wiped it away with her thumb just before it could reach Taylor’s pussy.

  “Needy thing,” Anna murmured. “I hardly even have to stretch you. You just open right up for me.”

  Her fingers plunged deep and twisted, rubbing the front wall of Taylor’s ass, and Taylor felt the pressure and the movement in her cunt. She couldn’t stop herself from thrusting back, shoving Anna’s fingers deeper while she buried her face in the vinyl sofa cushion and moaned.

  This time, when Anna’s fingers slipped free, they left Taylor bereft and desperate. In seconds, they were replaced with the cold, stiff metal of Taylor’s plug, which slid easily into place. The tail swayed, fur brushing the backs of her thighs. She shimmied her hips and shuddered as the plug shifted with the motion, pressing into her from a new angle.

  Taylor lifted her face, blinking at Anna, who was removing her gloves and setting them aside.

  “Go on,” Anna said. When both hands were bare, she reached for the box and pulled out a fresh pair. “You can sit up now. You’ve been so good.”

  Although her limbs were shaky, Taylor raised herself onto her hands, her collar jingling. The tail swung again, tickling her skin and making her breath catch. Shivering, she jerked her hips in a little hitching thrust, making the tail move with her, swaying between her legs.

  She felt it, then. How wet she was. Not just her ass, which was still leaking lube despite being plugged, but her cunt as well. She squeezed her thighs together and felt how swollen and sensitive her clit had become, how slick her labia were, and how sweet the tiny hint of friction was—even if her pussy was empty when it needed to be as full as her ass, or even fuller.

  Taylor thrust her hips again, clenching her asshole, until it felt like the plug was almost, but not quite, fucking her.

  “Good girl,” said Anna. She held one gloved hand expectantly in front of Taylor’s face, so Taylor butted her nose into it, parting her lips so she could lick the palm affectionately. “Slutty kitty. You’ve needed this so badly, haven’t you?”

  Taylor had. She’d wanted this so badly, and now she couldn’t even imagine how she’d lived without it. She turned her face in Anna’s grip, rubbing her cheek against Anna’s fingertips.

  Can I come? she thought. Please let me come. But pets couldn’t ask for what they wanted, so she only blinked, helpless, as her clit throbbed and ached. While Anna watched her, her eyes dark and hungry, Taylor shuffled her knees farther apart and lifted her ass higher, begging silently.

  Anna understood, reaching between Taylor’s thighs with her free hand and cupping her vulva, giving her something to rub against. “You’ve been such a good girl,” she said. “Show me how sweet you are when you come.”

  Taylor had to thrust only twice against the heel of Anna’s hand before she was coming, tipping her head back and crying out to the ceiling. Immediately, Anna was abandoning her vulva in favor of shoving her fingers into Taylor’s cunt, feeling it pulse and clench for a moment before giving in and thrusting vigorously, fucking her through her orgasm until Taylor was sobbing and shaking and coming again, soaking Anna’s hand.

  Afterward, Taylor sagged to the side, cuddling against Anna’s chest. Anna held her, petting her head and even scratching behind the cat ears.

  “See?” Anna said softly. “You’re perfect. Still think you want to go to the party downstairs?”

  If she could, Taylor would have purred in pleasure. Purred and stretched and pawed Anna’s leg like a spoiled kitten begging for even more attention.

  “No,” she said. “Just keep petting.”

  TRAINING ZOE

  Meghan O’Brien

  Ren stood outside her closed bedroom door and reread the text message that was sent to her cell phone thirty-seven minutes earlier, just as her shift at the bar ended.

  The girl you need to train has been delivered to your bedroom. She will be confused, perhaps frightened, but do not comfort her. Your job is to bring her pleasure. Make her like it.

  That was all she’d been given to prepare her for the task ahead. Make her like it. Ren eyed the door warily. Exactly how frightened
might this trainee be?

  There was only one way to know. Ren took a deep breath, then slipped into the softly lit bedroom. Splayed out across the center of her bed was a shapely brunette wearing a pair of modest black panties and a strapless bra. Her arms and legs were tethered to each corner of the bed by leather straps ending in fur-lined cuffs. A wide black cloth covered the woman’s eyes, rendering her totally powerless against whatever Ren might decide to do.

  Inhaling swiftly, Ren’s trainee lifted her head to blindly scan her surroundings. “Hello? Is someone there?”

  Do not comfort her. Ren closed the door loudly enough to be heard, wondering whether she could refrain from providing some measure of reassurance if she chose to answer. Uncertainty kept her silent as she crept closer to admire the luscious curves on display. The woman’s chest heaved as Ren drew nearer, her ample breasts nearly spilling over the top of her bra. Pleased, Ren sank onto the edge of the mattress and lightly traced her fingertips over a defined clavicle.

  The woman gasped and tried to pull away. “Who are you? Why did you bring me here?”

  “You’ll call me Mistress—or Ma’am.” Ren caressed the woman’s flushed cheek, then rubbed her thumb over the blindfold without removing it. Unable to resist the lure of deeper verbal engagement, she murmured, “To clarify, I didn’t bring you here—you were brought to me.”

  “Why?” The woman jerked when Ren tried to slip a finger into her mouth, past full lips that were painted a deep, decadent red to contrast brilliantly with her straight, white teeth. “What are you going to do to me?”

  Ren grasped her chin roughly. “What’s your name?” When her trainee hesitated, Ren used her free hand to tap firmly between her legs. After she’d elicited a surprised yelp, Ren repeated, “Your name.”

  “Zoe.” She writhed next to Ren, no doubt trying in vain to work her way free of the restraints and close her legs. “Please, don’t do this.”

  “Sweet, sweet Zoe.” Settling into the role, Ren stretched out alongside Zoe’s trembling body and stroked her tense stomach. “I promise you’ll enjoy everything I do to you tonight.”