Sugar and Spice: A Collection of Kinky Girl-On-Girl Stories

by Mira Paul

  Fire licked against the sensitive skin of her pubic mound. It was fierce, primal and it hurt; it hurt and the sub could not escape from that pain. She was not being allowed to escape into her subspace, to detach, to translate the pain into ecstasy. The count and the humiliation of it, of having offended and having to be punished for her offense, kept her from that space. Her legs shook and she screamed in agony but she counted and the strands of the flogger came down until she was done with that count and the final thank-you was said.

  Instantly she collapsed. Her body sagged and her head fell forward. Tears drowned her face. She hung there, trying to breathe, trying to release her misery and waiting for her Mistress to approve of her once more.

  “Are you ready to behave?” Mistress asked. She had to turn her head so her sub would not see just how excited she was. The punishment had sparked her interest and lust but she would not show that. To do so would be to lose control. If she could not control herself, she could certainly not control her sub.

  The sub looked up. To her, the way the Mistress stood with her head casually turned from her, said disinterest and displeasure. She felt an immediate need to ensure her Mistress felt pleasure, that she was satisfied.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m ready to behave now,” she said in the meek, little-girl voice she knew was preferred after a punishment.

  “Really?” Mistress felt good. She decided to tease her pretty little pet for a moment. “Are you sure? I mean, are you really, really sure? Because I do not want to waste time with you if you are unable to behave. If you do not behave, you don’t get to come. Are you willing to behave?”

  “Yes,” the sub said eagerly and she could feel her space realigning, could feel the pain fading and the lust coming back. “Yes, I am ready to behave for you. I will, Mistress, I promise.”

  “And are you ready to come?” Mistress asked as she took a step closer, crowding the sub, denying her personal space and daring her to move all at once.

  The sub stood her ground and her eyes half closed with desire as she whispered, “Yes…yes…”

  “Hmmm…” Mistress put a finger to her chin and narrowed her eyes. When she spoke her voice was considering and low, and no hint of the prankishness she was feeling lay in it. “Should I let you come? I mean, you did misbehave so badly…”

  The sub knew better than to beg right then. Mistress was capricious, and she might simply leave her hanging for an hour, then untie her and order her to sleep naked and cold and alone on the floor all night if she felt her sub was being too eager. Then again, she might do the same if she thought she was not being eager enough. It was a risky thing either way.

  “I am sorry,” the sub said humbly and waited to see if that simple declaration would be enough.

  Mistress grabbed her by her hair, turning her head viciously to the right. “You are worthless, you little slut,” she snarled, then pinched her nipples, twisting and gripping until the sub screamed and began to cry all over again.

  “Nice tears,” Mistress jeered and slid her fingers inside her sub’s soaked pussy, moving in and out slowly, then faster, gauging the reaction. When the sub began to tremble and whimper, when her pussy began to clench and throb, she withdrew, leaving her dangling on the edge of an orgasm.

  “Please! Please, Mistress! Please, can I come?”

  “No,” Mistress said and smiled to herself when the sub began to groan and beg, her heavy-lidded eyes locked onto hers in a desperate plea.

  Mistress walked over to the table, tossed aside her flogger, and picked up her crop. It was a serious tool, one that gave significant pain, and she weighed it in her hand for a moment before making up her mind.

  “Say you love me, darling,” she instructed as she walked back to her sub and brought the crop down. A thin red welt appeared on the pale, rounded ass cheeks. She watched with pleasure as the sub instinctively thrust backwards. The easiest way to weed out wannabes from subs was to give them a good hard whack with a belt or hand or whip. The ones who moved towards the pain were subs, the others were Saturday-night wannabe freaks who didn’t deserve her treatment.

  The pain came but it brought pleasure with it. The two things melded, became one, and the sub screamed out, “I love you, Mistress,” as the crop came down again, bringing her closer to the brink of her orgasm.

  Mistress marked her well. She was experienced and she knew just how to hit and how hard. She never wrapped her subs, never left marks she did not intend to leave, never lost her cool or her control, and she let the sub come all the way to the brink again before backing off, watching the writhing woman twist and arch in a wordless and anguished want.

  “When you get yourself under control, we will begin again,” she said and walked away.

  The sub was left there with her body fighting itself. One part of her knew if she came right then as she so badly wanted to, she would be punished by not being allowed to have the rest of the scene, but the other part of her craved an orgasm anyway.

  Mistress leaned against the table. The sub fought herself and listened to the metallic spin of the lighter wheel being struck, the inhale of smoke. She grounded herself with those sounds, using them to regain control of herself.

  When she could speak, she said, “I am under control,” in the calmest voice she could manage. She stood there waiting, her rock-hard nipples pointing at the ceiling and her legs aching from the effort.

  Mistress ground her cigarette out on the floor, crushing the cherry beneath her booted heel. She let the sub wait it out, let her wonder while she selected the largest dildo in her collection for her harness. She hummed tunelessly as she approached the sub. She slapped the reddened skin of her sub’s ass twice, then lightly scratched her again, liking the way the skin turned pale, then filled with blood rushing back to the surface.

  She sauntered in front of the sub, letting her see the harness and the dildo, letting her eyes take it in, measure it, and want it. She reached up, yanked the knotted rope tied around the wrists down from the hook, then tangled her hands into the sub’s hair, yanking and tugging. Wordlessly she shoved the sub to the floor, hearing the whimpers and the small gasps as the sub went down.

  “I wanna hear you scream,” she said as she positioned the sub with her wrists stretched out on front of her and her legs open wide, her ass high in the air and her face pressed into the floor. “Do you hear me? If you want my cock, you will fucking scream for me.”

  She forced her fingers into the sub’s mouth, watching as the sub opened her mouth wider and wider, licking and sucking at her knuckles, her saliva running down the Mistress’s hand in clear streams.

  The sub gave a long moan and cried out when Mistress inserted her fingers into her one by one. She pushed them in, not rushing, not shoving, just putting more of her hand inside the sub’s willing and open pussy with every back and forth movement.

  Her whole hand was inside now. The wetness of it, the heat, was intense and Mistress had to catch her own breath and hold it for a moment before she could speak. She concentrated on the way her fingers were curling up, the feel of concrete under knees, and when she had control of herself she said, “You like that, bitch? Do you like my fist in your pussy?”

  The pain was deep, the sub’s pelvic bone ached, and her pussy felt stretched to the tearing point. She felt that pain but she also felt the utterly delicious fullness that came from being taken so completely. Her mouth opened and a long scream of surrender echoed across the room as she babbled out, “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over again.

  “Yeah, you do love it. You are such a whore,” Mistress said and her laughter was loud and cruel, but her sub knew the endorphin rush burning through her was burning through her Mistress as well, and that laughter was just one more way to release the wildly careening emotions they were both experiencing. The sub whimpered and begged and Mistress pumped harder, working herself in farther until the sub screamed with need and misery.

  “No, you can’t come yet,” Mistress said and the hand withdr
ew, leaving the sub gasping and sobbing for release. Her cries were heard and appreciated by the Mistress but they were also ignored. She was back at the table, wiping her hand on the towel she kept there and picking up her favorite whip, a stinging Australian single tail. She walked with it in her hand, trying out its supple length by snapping it softly as she approached. She saw the muscles running and jumping under the sub’s thighs and knew the sub could hear the soft whicker and whir of that whip as she tested it.

  The whip snapped through the air, precision and skill blending, and the sub screamed and her ass cheeks clenched for one moment but she loosened them in a hurry when the whip came down again, reminding her she was there for her Mistress to punish.

  “Do you like that?” Mistress demanded. “Do you like the way I beat you, you worthless little whore?”

  “Yes, Mistress,” the sub wept, and her body began to slide once more towards orgasm. “Please, I love it when you beat me, please, ma’am, please, I want it…please, I will be good…I…”

  “Do you want me to fuck you?” Mistress asked and the sub screamed out, “Yes, please! Please!”

  Mistress stepped back to her tools. She laid the whip aside and picked up the untied lengths of rope and the vibrator.

  “Get on your feet,” she said as she walked, taking a perverse pleasure in watching her sub struggle to right herself and stand. She flexed and bowed upwards like she was performing yoga and when she got to her feet, Mistress commanded her to go to the chair that sat by itself on a small section of floor near a corner.

  The chair was a plain, high-backed wooden thing with wide, high arms. Its feet had been set into poured concrete and the back of it was laced with chains to keep it from tilting over during games. The arms of it had been worn smooth by years of body parts rubbing against them. The sub felt the familiar satiny texture beneath her thighs as her legs were pushed far back into her chest, then over the arms. Her legs were lashed there. She was tied so that she was spread-eagled. Her breath caught in her throat and she whimpered in pleasure.

  The cool air drifted across her crotch and licked its heat, and she wriggled slightly when Mistress was not looking, trying to scratch that itch just a little.

  Mistress smiled as she asked, “You want me to fuck you?”

  “Yes,” the sub breathed. “I want your cock, Mistress. Please put it inside me.”

  “You want this big cock inside your pussy, don’t you? You fucking slut.” Mistress shoved her cock in. She went hard and fast, no waiting, and the sub moaned and arched her back without thinking. But Mistress gave her a hard slap across the right cheek to make her focus and remember her manners.

  There was only sensation. The feeling of the cock inside her, the wetness pooling around her ass, the feel of the rope, and the sound of her moans and sobs. The vibrator purred onto her clit and she felt her eyes rolling backwards. Her cries became frantic, keening, and she felt the loss of all control, all thought. All there was was the Mistress and being fucked. It was enough.

  “You wanna come?” Mistress asked. She was watching her sub’s face carefully. The tears and the ecstasy mingled there, the open mouth and the rolled-back eyes. She could have been about to come or die, it was hard to say, and Mistress felt the base of the dildo rubbing against the base of her rock-hard clit and had to grit her teeth to keep from giving herself away to the sub.

  “Yes,” the sub shouted. “Yes, I fucking do, please let me come…please let me come now…”

  “Yes, you come right now, you come so fucking hard!” Mistress demanded and the sub’s cries rose as she came in huge waves, her come sliding over the enormous cock that was stretching her wide, splashing onto the vibrator that was sending searing sensations along her clit and pouring down into the chair.

  Mistress let her come. She kept fucking her harder and deeper. She had delayed the sub’s orgasm deliberately, wanting this very effect and she smiled as she drove in and out of the steadily pulsing pussy.

  The sub moaned and wept. Her body tightened and loosened, her head hung sideways, and Mistress yanked her upright by the collar, forcing her to open her eyes to look at her while she came so she would always know who it was who owned her.

  When it was over, Mistress turned tender. She untied the ropes slowly, massaged the sub’s aching thighs until she thought she could stand, then helped her to her feet. They went to the corner where the mattress lay and the sub lay on it face down while Mistress rubbed sweet-smelling salve into the skin that was hurt and marked.

  They cuddled and clung while the afterglow held them in its warm, sleepy limbed grasp. It lasted long and they began to talk. How was this? How was that? Should I use a thinner whip or do you like…do I?…Do you…? Need….want…love….?

  Eventually they began to return to themselves, to shed the headspace that they resided in there in the basement.

  Caroline turned her head and stared into Hannah’s soft, sweet eyes and she felt a huge wave of total love for her. It was so calming and beautiful that she began to cry softly.

  “Shhhh…” Hannah cooed as she rocked Caroline’s body in her round white arms. “Hush, darling, it is okay now.”

  “I love you.” Caroline sobbed and she wrapped her own arms around Hannah and held her tightly. “Say you know I love you and would never hurt you.”

  “I know you wouldn’t,” Hannah whispered and her hands traced Caroline’s bare flesh as she asked the question she needed answered the most. “Do I hurt you?”

  “Never.” Caroline smiled through her tears and kissed Hannah’s hands, kissed the hands of her lover, her partner, her Mistress, and friend. “You never, ever have.”

  “You know, I think that egg crating and foam needs to be replaced on that wall,” Hannah said casually a few minutes later as they were cleaning up their gear and scene. “It would not do for the neighbors to hear us down here.”

  “Yeah, they would think we were killing each other,” Caroline joked. “Can you imagine their horror? They would probably think we were complete freaks. We would have to move, at the very least.”

  “I imagine the things that go on in the most vanilla queer’s bedroom would make most straight people’s flesh creep,” Hannah said matter-of-factly. “I mean, by its very definition, what we do is queer.”

  They laughed while they headed back upstairs and as Hannah stood at the door to the dungeon room she asked, “So how about a big spaghetti dinner as a welcome home?” Her hand came out and turned off the light, then it swung shut the door, leaving the dungeon in total silence.

  No Love, No Glove

  by Giselle Renarde

  “Come to bed,” Nicky pleaded. Why should she have to plead at all? Four years ago, Dragica would have jumped at any opportunity.

  “Just a minute,” Dragica off-handedly replied. Her office chair creaked like a bad back. She didn’t even glance away from the computer screen. “I’m right in the middle of this…of this…”

  Nicky waited for any indication of life from her unresponsive girlfriend. Nope. Nothing. “Fine,” Nicky said. Turning in bed, she punched her pillow down and repeated, “Fine. That’s just…fine!”

  “Huh?” Dragica muttered. Her chair creaked as she shifted slightly. “I’ll do it in the morning.”

  “You’re not even listening to me!” Nicky flipped in bed, tearing the covers from her bare legs. She then changed her mind and cast them back over herself.

  “The recycling,” Dragica said, slow and calm as a Gregorian chant. “I’ll take it out in the morning.” Her eyes never shifted from the computer screen.

  At an utter loss, Nicky gave her pillow another good thumping. She reclined, fuming, for no more than twenty seconds before reaching into the night table. “Fine,” she said again, pulling out the gloves and slamming the drawer.

  Nicky sat straight up in bed and laid the black spandex opera gloves out in front of herself. Was it dirty pool? Maybe. She knew the only surefire way to get her inattentive woman into bed was to put on
the gloves, so that’s what she would do. Hell, after so many months of nothing she was ready to pull out all the stops.

  Dragica seemed to spot Nicky in her peripheral vision—or, rather, she seemed to spot the gloves, because she perked for a moment and turned in Nicky’s direction. Her brow furled and she turned back to the computer before saying, “You can’t just put on your damn gloves and expect me to jump into bed when I’m in the middle of something.”

  “Yes, I can.” That was the whole point—her butch babe couldn’t resist Nicky in a sleek pair of opera gloves. She picked up the long left-hand glove and rolled the stretchy fabric. When Dragica again offered no reaction, she slid her fingers and her thumb into the tight black holes. God, it felt good to get this baby against her skin! She rolled the fabric up her forearm, past her elbow and all the way to her bicep. She’d forgotten how sexy the gloves made her feel. No wonder Dragica couldn’t resist her in them.

  Still no reaction from the computer desk. Nicky’s blood began to simmer in her veins. Her neck felt hot. “Hello? Bonjour? Glove sur hand. Ou est ma girlfriend?”

  “I’m right here,” Dragica mumbled like an arrogant brat. “Obviously.”

  Nicky snapped. “That’s it! I want the computer out of the bedroom. I can’t take this anymore.”

  “What?” Dragica was obviously confused, but at least she was looking at Nicky now. “You’re the one who told me to bring it in here in the first place!”

  As she pursed her lips, Nicky felt her eyes blazing. She was sure they were going to shoot out of her head in a couple of seconds and launch an aerial attack on her girlfriend. What Dragica said was true, but at the time Nicky’d had her reasons. Now all she could think of was excuses. “It isn’t healthy to have so much electricity flowing through the bedroom. The computer, the printer, the modem—all that stuff sends currents through your body while you sleep. It damages your cells.”