by Unknown
“Beauty abounds in you, inside and out, Ma’am. It’s a pleasure to serve you, as always.” Pinky stood up then kneeled before the only woman she’d connected with, on a relationship level. “And if anybody tells you differently, I’ll kick their ass.”
She smiled as she lowered her head for the ritual pat. “I knew you’d have the right words, little one. At times I wonder who’s in charge here, but then I remember.”
Andrea smacked the right side of Pinky’s thigh playfully. “Get back up here and tell me what’s new with you. I’ve requested a night alone with you and your master agreed. I hope you don’t mind.”
Pinky hopped on the couch, ready for chatter and fun. She’d missed her friend so much in the last few weeks. “It’s his choice, of course, but truth be told, I’ve begged for time alone with you since the day you went in for surgery. The news of your cancer crushed me. I love you, Ma’am, and I’m so relieved you’re okay.”
Outside, her master’s BMW pulled down the driveway and out into the street. Pinky knew he’d return and that Andrea would take care of her until he did. He’d shared her and taught her to share. That beautiful lesson opened up a whole new side of life that brought her to Andrea and the sapphic love they shared. It doesn’t get much better than this, she thought. The two women giggled and cuddled. Before the night ended, Andrea would pull in those shared reins, but for now they would share moments and celebrate life.
THE BREAKING POINT
Cole Riley
Submission is totally giving up control to another person. That was how the French writer Albert Camus described it. It didn’t matter that Camus was talking years ago about the Algerian people being very submissive to the colonist Frenchmen.
When I encountered submission in my life, it was of a different sort. Let me go back to a few weeks ago. After getting off work—as a reporter for a daily newspaper—I went to one of my favorite bars, Costello’s, where I saw the mysterious redheaded girl chatting with the bartender. Teddy, the mixologist, was always good for a laugh or two. I sat near the redhead and watched her down shots of bourbon. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with an exotic cocoa face and a body that could bewitch most men and many women.
“I do it because I like it,” the girl laughed. “It’s not about the money. There’s something in my makeup that draws me to it. I still haven’t figured it out.”
Which were the only words I overheard, but they stuck with me. She smelled delicious, incredibly enticing. Her aroma filled the space at the bar, a whiff of foreign cigarettes, face powder, rouge and an aura of expensive perfume. It made my heart beat fast.
Two days later, I was standing outside my building in Midtown. I had just been handed an infant by a total stranger who asked me to hold her baby while she tied the laces on a running shoe. I looked up and saw the mysterious girl smiling warmly at me as I readjusted the baby in my arms. The infant wet on me.
“Water sports, huh?” the girl smirked. “What a pretty picture.”
I shook my head, replying. “She’s not mine. By the way, are you following me?”
The girl laughed gently. She seemed to be eternally happy. Her steps took her away from me to the curb, where she caught a cab. She waved to me from the backseat.
The next time I saw her, it was in the basement of a downtown sex club, and she was hoisted up on this medieval device surrounded by men in suits. Her naked body was trussed up, tied at her waist and at the feet. I was mesmerized by what the men were doing to her; her back was an ugly mess of welts, her buttocks bright red and glowing.
One man reached around her battered body, his fingers going between her legs, dipping inside then lifting them to his mouth to taste her. The other men looked envious.
“I love to discipline young girls,” the man said, turning to me. “Are you a member of the club? I don’t remember seeing you before.”
“A member brought me, I’m just a guest,” I answered, watching the others sniff her citrus female scent like randy bloodhounds.
“And who was that?”
“Hugh brought me down,” I said, seeing the girl trying to glance over her shoulder at me. She recognized the voice.
“Do you like to be disciplined, slave?” another man, with his tie off, asked her.
“Yes, Sir, I do.” The girl stared at her feet.
Without warning, the first man slashed her with a leather whip across the buttocks, not too hard. The girl clearly wanted to yell out, but did not. He leaned toward the girl, stroked her tenderly and put his thick thumb between her pouting, bruised lips. He smiled wickedly at her, reared back and brought the whip down in sharp, stinging strokes. I could tell she loved the pain, the burn and prick of each blow.
“Good girl, slave,” he said softly, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
I walked away through the dimly lit corridors, shaking my head. How could someone submit herself to that? This shit wasn’t normal.
Later, I saw the girl in the hallway, walking between three men who had just watched her take a beating. They were laughing and joking, teasing her like an unruly lover. One of the fellas even cupped her breast and made a funny face.
Like a fool, I was intrigued by this mysterious girl and waited out front, parked, as the evening went on. Time passed painfully while I kept my vigil. Finally, the men left one by one, getting into taxis or private cars. There was a ten-minute lag before the girl, seeming to relish her time alone, bounced down the stairs, whistling a Katy Perry tune. I was glad I’d waited for her.
I yelled to her and she walked across the street to my car. There was no traffic at this hour. All she wore was a long raincoat and I could tell she was naked underneath.
“Can I come with you, darling?” she asked. “I need to talk. It’s been quite an evening.”
I opened the car door for her, smiling. Inside the car, the girl sat back and continued to whistle the Katy Perry ditty. She opened the coat slightly, unbuttoning it to reveal the sumptuous curves I’d seen in that small dingy room.
“Why did you go along with the beating from those guys back there?” I asked.
“It’s a game.” She followed that comment with a chuckle.
I kept my eyes on the road. “Damn, you play rough. Do you like being beaten?”
She giggled. “I like losing control now and then. You should try it. It’s being able to go with the flow. Submission means absolute freedom. Most people are afraid to risk that. You see it in their lives; their petty, small lives. It’s absolutely freeing to submit to someone.”
“I’m too anal,” I laughed, slowing down for a red light. “I’m a military brat. Control and conformity are too important for me. My father was an officer in the Army; he stressed rules and regulations during my childhood.”
“Oh, boy, what you saw tonight must have rocked your world,” she said gleefully.
In my mind, I played a thousand fantasies, scenarios where I was supposed to beat her, spank her or at least make her stand in a corner. At the show earlier, one man had mentioned making her eat out of a dog dish. Another said he got pleasure drawing the words SPERM DUMP on her arching back, leading to her shapely ass.
“I don’t understand this,” I said. “I don’t understand you.”
She chuckled again to herself. “Don’t be such a wuss.”
“I’m not a wuss,” I bristled, now looking at her. Was she so warped as to think this kind of behavior was normal? The things I’d seen tonight were way over the top.
She closed her eyes, trying to blot out the world. “Back there, I tried not to move. I didn’t want to disappoint the men. The man who beat me would have punished me if I moved.”
“Is he your lover? A pimp of sorts?”
“No. Not at all.”
“But it hurt…didn’t it?”
She let out a long, tired breath. “Hell yeah, it did. My whole body hurt after the working-over they gave me. My legs burned and my bottom throbbed and ached. But I loved it. I loved every minute of it.”
“And you didn’t blink an eye.” I kept looking at her, staring.
For a time, she didn’t say a word. Complete silence. Maybe she was thinking about what she had become, a mindless play-toy for these depraved men. I gave her some mental space. I forced my eyes back to the road. She glanced out of the window into the darkness of the night, past the rows of parked cars, the small clusters of people on the streets, the string of lights of the skyscrapers above the intersections.
“You’re incredibly beautiful,” I said, paying tribute to her unique appearance. So enticing. “Too gorgeous to let those bastards mistreat you.”
“So you say. Sometimes beauty can be a liability.”
“I don’t understand all of this,” I repeated.
“And you probably never will. Let me tell you about Sir, the man who beat me. I’m his slave and he’s my master. I’m a submissive. I’m capable of doing anything to please him. I give myself to him, going against every rule of society, giving myself to him completely.”
“That’s crazy. So you anticipate all his desires, all his perversions. From what I saw tonight, he’s a big-time freak.”
Then a secret smile spread across her face. “Yes, I go deeper into his darkness than he ever imagined. I serve him; only Sir.”
“Is this love?”
“No, it’s worship for Sir, total admiration and respect. Sir is the only man for me. I could never cheat on or lie to him.”
Such a willingness to serve, to submit. Like any man would, I wanted to take her but I knew my dick, the dick of a sane man, would resist. Even the lovely sight of her would not arouse me. I wasn’t a pagan. I needed her approval, or even the words and the commands of her keeper, to give me permission.
It was almost as if she was reading my thoughts. “Sir says you’d need to get the green light to fuck me. He knew who you are; Sir knew your soul. Sir knew what you desired, even if you didn’t know it yourself. He knew you would be waiting outside after the show. He knew what you wanted.”
I turned toward her in disbelief. I couldn’t believe this. How could he know what I would do?
She put her hand on my leg, dangerously close to my crotch. “Sir says I’m supposed to carry out your every order. Hugh made a deal with him. You know Hugh, right? Well anyway, that’s what Sir said. Do you want me gagged, blindfolded or tied up? Do you want me to beg? Do you want your friends to watch or join in? Whatever you want.”
I shook my head. “No, no way.”
The girl felt between her thighs, slid two fingers inside, and brought them to my mouth. “Can I change your mind?”
She cuddled against me, seducing my willpower. “My pussy’s on fire for you. Sir says you will mistreat me just this once. Fuck me senseless. You’ll love it. Every moment. Sir says you’ll be my master. My god, I want to feel you coming and I want to drink you.”
I grinned like an idiot.
“I’ll satisfy you, no matter your desire, your pleasure, your fetish. I’ll play your game.”
I paused. “I feel this is conditional. Did Sir give you to me?”
Her voice grew husky and dark. “Sir says it’s a one-time-only thing. You can never see me after this night. Never. No matter how good, how memorable, you can never see me after this.”
By the time we got to my place, I was high on anticipation. I couldn’t wait to fuck her. She immediately kissed me, her tongue in my mouth, and we blended our bodies as my fingers stroked her soft, smooth flesh. Without words, she kissed me harder, more intensely, and bit and sucked my chest.
I thought about my girlfriend, just fleetingly. She’d like this girl.
Suddenly, in the darkness, the girl seized control. I let her do all the work while she told me to place my hands on the kitchen table. She worked my pants down, underwear as well, and spread my legs, and I sensed her tongue licking me. My legs shook. She ran her tongue along the underside of my dick, causing it to thicken and swell, and she didn’t neglect my balls. Her lips engulfed one at a time, until shivers went through my body. When my erection was powerful and throbbing, she swallowed my dick completely in her hot mouth.
“Spread your legs wider, Sir,” her voice came up from below. I could feel her circle the head of my sex, flicking her tongue like a cobra, driving me crazy.
When the girl was satisfied with my excitement, she stood up, gripped my shoulders and mounted me. We were glued at the privates, desire and passion surging though our bodies. Her mouth was against my cheek, whispering for me to let her please me, keeping her moves easy and gentle. Her sex was incredibly warm and tight.
“Do you have a breaking point, Sir?” she asked. “A point where the passion rises too much for you to bear?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been pushed to my limit.”
She rode and rode me, writhing with so much force that she was bouncing up and down as if she was being thrown from a bucking mare. Her pussy was very wet. Her fingers worked at her clit, keeping pace in the frenzied rhythm we had set. Our eyes met.
“Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me as hard as you can,” she panted. “Use me like the filthy slut that I am. That’s it, that’s it. Rub the head of your dick against my clit—oh, damn, oh, damn—before you shove it back in me. I love it when you pound me hard like that. That’s it. Stretch my hole with each thrust. Please, please, please fuck me….”
I began to fuck her roughly, trying to drive my hard pole into the bottom of her sex. She loved it. She said she needed it. She told me I had the thickest, biggest dick that ever fucked her. I knew it wasn’t true, but it sounded good.
“Will you stretch my pussy for me, will you stretch my asshole for me?” she whined. “I want you to pull my hair while you ram it in. Will you fuck my tight ass, pound it until it is raw, open and oozing?”
Crazed with desire, I reached up, pinching her thumb-sized nipples as I thrust mightily into her. She was coming while I pinched them hard. I pulled her hair as hard as I could. Another squirt of hot fluid flowed over my dick before a wave of lust snatched my breath away. I kept coming into her and then she dropped down and covered my spurting dick with her mouth, squeezing my balls, and it seemed to go on a long time. I yanked her up and she told me to slap her hard. I did as I was told. She didn’t even cringe. One of my hands found her clit, stroking slowly and in a steady circular motion. That kept her twitching with the pulsing of another orgasm already upon her. She let out a long shriek, and I pulled her to me. I put myself back into her, her muscles tightening around my hard flesh, and stayed inside her for quite a while afterward.
“I can see why Sir said I can only do you once,” the girl said. “You’re a dangerous man, quite dangerous.” She cut on the light and went to the bathroom. I saw the ugly welts.
I followed her, sat on the toilet and smoked a cigarette.
“What are you, sweetie?” I asked. “That’s right, no questions.”
She winked. “I’m complicated.” She hopped into the shower and I gave her a towel.
“It’s a shame you’re taken,” I said between puffs, and she smiled wickedly.
SHINING IN THE DARK
Bex vanKoot
She laid the wide canvas out onto the floor of the small play space very carefully, her freshly scrubbed feet tiptoeing daintily from one corner to the next; she tacked it down all along the floorboards, leaving only a small track between the edge and the wall for a safe entry and exit. Her deft moves made it clear how many times she had done this before, and just thinking about all those incredible sessions started Adam’s cock stiffening, pushing to free itself from the long, thin robe as he watched her from the hallway.
She moved in silence, gorgeous and graceful as always, even with her ankles hobbled by the rope cuffs that forced her to take tiny careful steps, naked but for the thick leather panties that locked tight at her hips. Light, nervous chitchat filtered in from the living room where the other four contributing artists sat in matching robes and waited to be invited into the studio. It had been mo
nths of planning, testing and boundary setting to bring this all together, and weeks of hard work. Tonight would be their final night together and everyone was on edge.
Adam stood back and admired their work thus far. Last month, Lily had gone through the same painstaking routine with this same canvas and after she had taken her place, laid out like a gorgeous star in the center, they had gone to work painting her beautiful body. The men had taken turns with their paint and his wife in the center of the room while the rest watched, masturbated and made colorful messes of their own bodies in preparation. Yellow, red, black and blue paints were rubbed, brushed and caressed into her skin and when she was covered in color, when each corner of the canvas was painted in one hue of handprints and footprints and butt prints from one of the four men, they had finished her off with a film of hot come and left her there to dry. Adam had waited until she was able to stand again and carried her very carefully through the maze of wet paint to the shower so she could rinse off, leaving a gorgeous white void behind like a blazing shadow.
After he had gently washed her and rubbed her skin with a soft towel, he had given her the good news. The look on her face had been priceless.
“A whole month?” she had asked with that tragically beautiful edge of self-doubt.
He had smiled at her, taken her cheek in his hand and kissed her lips. “Yes. Will you sacrifice your orgasms for an entire month? Can you do that for me? For your art?”
She didn’t take the question lightly. He remembered getting hard just watching her think about it, commit to doing it even though she knew it would be excruciating. She also knew it would be exquisite. She had nodded, but he wanted to hear her say yes. This would be the longest she had gone without an orgasm since her husband had bought her that very first vibrator, the beautiful toy that finally made her come for the first time when she had opened herself up to him nearly four years ago, before their wedding, before she had agreed to become his and before he had given her everything—the gallery and the inspiration to fill it. He had introduced her to this side of his sexuality, the pain and domination she had always craved but never known, with the same slow unbearable patience he took every time he gave her pleasure or pain.