Bound by Lust

by Shanna Germain

  He lost his words as he exploded, or maybe I just lost track of them, carried beyond words by the force of my orgasm.

  Once we reached stillness again, we wrapped around each other on the battered glider, sharing my wine.

  “Listen,” Ben whispered.

  I did.

  I heard nothing.

  It took a second to remember the significance of the silence. “No whippoorwill.”

  “Poor frustrated bird,” Ben said. “We scared him off. Or maybe someone finally showed up to give him that whipping.”

  “Now maybe I can get some sleep,” I suggested, but Ben poured some wine on my breast and bent to lick it off.

  What the hell. We could sleep all day if we wanted to.

  SLAVE SISTER

  Vida Bailey

  He bends over me as I sit in the chair. The length of silk slips cold around my neck, trails shiver between my breasts. He picks up the ends and begins to tie the knot. I love the sound of the whisper and shush of the cold material as he feeds it through the loop.

  “Eyes up, missy.”

  I snap my eyes back to meet their reflection in the dresser mirror. But I can still see my own breasts, nipples hard and eager, flesh firm and willing. I can still see his hands as he draws the knot tight against my throat. I shift, rubbing together thighs that are wet again. He tips my head back to kiss me.

  He eases the knot loose and slips the tie over my head, transferring it to his own collar. I watch him in the mirror as he adjusts the knot, smoothes his collar down. His black hair falls over his eyes and his jaw is new-shaven, but I can still see the shadow beneath. His lips are full and red, and I can feel my mouth swell just looking at them. I stand and press myself against him, mindful that I’m naked and wet between the thighs, and I don’t want to get a mark on his immaculate grey suit. He lets me lean my face into his shirt, breathe him in. I swear I can smell the strong, warm muscle beneath his skin.

  “I hate it when you go.”

  He touches my face.

  “You’ll eat popcorn and watch girl movies and write and work and do lunches and wear woolly socks. You’ll have a fine time, Saph, you know you will.”

  “I do know. I like the space. But I’ll miss you anyway. And I’ll be lonely. And…horny.”

  “Hmm.” He looks forbidding. He’s just made me come three times and told me that’s it until he gets back. I’m really hoping he’ll relent and let me come over the phone for him.

  “I need a play friend,” I say, absently. “A slave sister, to love when you’re not here.”

  “That would be nice,” he says, and smiles. “That would be very nice indeed.”

  Michael dressed me oddly for an evening at the club. Gone was the usual latex, leather, or lace. The ’40s-style dress hugged my torso and flared to my knee. Its soft, clingy brown material was dotted with tiny rose buds. A demure outfit, except for the way my breasts pushed out of the bodice, for the height of the heel on my red, red shoes.

  They were high enough to make me clutch onto his arm as he walked me to a back room at the club. Inside, several naked men and women knelt along the wall. He passed by the first few, bringing me to a stop in front of a curvy young woman with long, light brown hair. I knew her vaguely, Liz Massey. She’d lived with her dom, but he’d died of cancer just over a year ago. It was a really sad story. She still wore a collar around her neck, a leather strip with a stone of some sort in it. Other than that, she was naked, shining hair plaited and a little patch of fur on her mons. Michael hunkered down in front of her and raised her chin, peering solicitously into her eyes, that stance I knew so well. I watched as her lips parted, and she looked at him wide eyed. He looked up at me and took my hand, drawing me in closer.

  “What do you think, Saph? Would you like her?”

  “Is she for me?” My voice sounded awed, incredulous. I was the little girl at the pound.

  “Sure, she’s for you. What do you think?”

  I looked at the woman on the floor. Her breasts were full and pillowy, large nipples rosy against her smooth skin. Her hips and stomach were sweetly curved, and the hands that lay on her thighs looked more capable than elegant. Her nails were short and neat. She was beautiful.

  “Oh, Michael, she’s perfect! Can we take her home?”

  Michael stood and held out his hand to Liz, who took it and rose to her feet.

  At home, I hung up the coat she’d traveled from the club in, and she was naked again. Michael fed her sips of water and led her to the playroom, up onto the table padded in dark leather. He positioned her on hands and knees, her braid hanging over one shoulder. I sat on my cushion and watched, with eager breath. Michael ran his fingers down her spine, navigating each vertebra, passing so gently into the cleft between her buttocks and feeling of the plump flesh beyond. Liz’s body undulated as he cupped her sex, pressed up with the heel of his hand. I could see her eyebrows knit with the effort of staying silent. Michael pushed her back into position with one finger between her shoulder blades and walked around in front of her. He stroked her full lips, then raised her head with light pressure under her chin. I could feel his fingertips on my own skin, his effortless instruction, and I knelt up straighter.

  “Such a pretty kitten,” he said, grasping the braid at the nape of her neck and pressing her mouth to the ridge of his erection. “I am so looking forward to seeing what you can do.”

  I worried that Liz’s eyes were looking suspiciously shiny, but she closed them when Michael walked back to the other end of the table. With one hand on the small of her back, he started to smack the undercurve of her buttocks with rhythmic, gentle blows, working his way from the outer edge to her inner thigh. Liz gasped and writhed, and Michael reached up a lazy hand and twined it in her hair to hold her in position. He switched his attention to her pussy, swinging his hand up in between her spread thighs over and over, pulling her head back. Beneath her soft, open-mouthed moans, I could hear the noise of his smacks change as she got wetter.

  But the tenor of Liz’s cries were changing too. Before I could whisper “Sir,” Michael saw that Liz was communicating a different kind of pain. He stopped and stroked her back, gentled her. She knelt there, hunched over, and sobbed, wrapping her arms around herself, emitting hoarse, panicked cries. Michael put his arms around her, but that made it worse. A tilt of his head and I ran over to cradle the naked, shaking woman, drew her to me and held her until her shivering sobs abated. Michael put a blanket around her and lifted her from the table. He brought her to sit between us on the huge floor cushion. When she was settled against me, he stroked her hair from her face and gently ran a finger along the collar she wore.

  “Do you feel disloyal?”

  Liz nodded. “Yes. No. I…guilty, maybe. But, it’s the sadness too.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You remind me…”

  “Is this the first time since he died?” She shook her head. Nodded.

  “Yes. No. I didn’t get this far.” Her fingers touched the collar, held it. I had a sudden fear that someone might have tried to take it off. My chest contracted at the thought.

  “What did he tell you, Liz? Did he tell you what to do?” Liz drew a ragged breath and leaned in to me, her body pulling away from the words she was trying to get out.

  “He told me to find someone else. I’m trying. I’m trying. I’m lonely, but…” She looked up at him, her blue eyes spilling tears. “I’m lonely for him.”

  “Of course, darling.” Michael wiped them away, raising his eyebrows at me over her head. Oh no. My heart fell. I took his hand, pulling him to the other side of the room for a whispered conversation. Liz looked too broken and exhausted to care that she was being discussed.

  “Saphy, she’s not ready for this. It’s not going to work, I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, please don’t send her back! I know she needs time, but I think we can make her happy again! She wants to try, or she wouldn’t be here. I don’t want anyone else, Sir, I want Liz, I want to help her. I can work o
n this, I have a good feeling. We just need to be patient. Let me bring her to bed with me and look after her, please, don’t send her home all by herself.” I made shameless baby eyes, hoping this was a day when they’d work.

  Michael relented.

  “Okay, Saph. This was not what I had in mind for us, but I’ll play it your way a little while and see.” He kissed my forehead and let me put Liz to bed.

  If I’d had doubts, they dissolved as soon as I slipped under the covers with the warm, curvy woman. She was racked with tiredness and pain, and she rested her head on my chest and let me stroke her. I kneaded her shoulders and tested her soft skin, running my hands over her until she softened under my touch and met my gentle kisses with her own. I pressed her nipples to hard beads, kissed her wrists, and licked the silk of her inner elbow until she mewed and pressed herself against me. Then I started to explore her pussy, checking for wetness and finding her still hot and swollen, juice coating my questioning fingers as soon as I opened her up. I spread her meltwater onto her nipples, circling it around and around the way people coax music from the rim of a wineglass, then I bent my head to her breasts and licked her clean as I pressed my fingers into her sweet, tight little cunt. This time, she didn’t cry. I could feel how there was no trigger for her grief without Michael there to fill the empty man-space Liz ached for so keenly. She was ready; she just had to be brave.

  “It’s okay, Liz, you can have this. Don’t be scared,” I whispered into her ear. I bit down on her nipple, working her hard and pressing my thumb over her clit. “Let it go for me, darling. Show me what you can do.”

  She was elemental. I had never seen an orgasm like the one she had in my bed, on my hand, that night. Her pussy sucked at my fingers with hunger, and she was so hot I felt my hand would burn. The orgasm wrenched from deep inside her, pulled me in, and I could feel myself spasming just from witnessing her throes. I wished Michael had been there to see the depths of her passion and her response. Afterward she was wrung out, speechless, and she fell asleep cleaved to me. Later in the night, Michael joined us, crossing the room softly, and slipping in behind me, and we slept, three together. I wondered how possessive the arm he wound around me was.

  The next morning found Liz sweet and mellow. A little of the weight seemed to have lifted from her shoulders. I brought her down to the dining room and fed her bits of fruit from a bowl, sips of tea. Michael came in to taste the mango on my lips and whisper that he had something for me to try on. Liz watched his teasing from behind lowered lashes, bowing her head for his kiss and breathing a morning greeting. My heart clenched. I wanted her here with us.

  In the playroom, Michael led me to the mirror and slipped off my robe. I stepped out of the puddle of silk at my feet and into the gleaming black knee boots he proffered. Michael laughed and spun me round slowly in a circle, one hand above my head.

  “Oh, Saphina.”

  Next came a black leather corset that he laced effortlessly but still left me a little breathless. It held me like another skin. Last was a tinier-than-tiny thong that tied with little black silk bows. He sighed.

  “It’s a good thing I like to share you, Saphina.” He stood behind me, rested one hand on my belly and slid the other one over the slip of silk that covered my mound. “I hope I see something good this morning.” He pinched my thigh as he let me go.

  “Yes, Sir.” My heart was in my mouth. And thumping between my legs as well, it seemed.

  I walked back to Liz, getting the feel of the new stride the heels necessitated. There was no hesitating in boots like those. They turned me into someone else. I had a clever master. He had bound me into a completely new role. I could feel his warm palm where it had settled over my pubis, owning me. Liz was clearing the table when I entered the dining room. She turned and her mouth fell open at the sight of me.

  “What do you think, kitten? Could you be ready?” She nodded, dumbfounded. I waited.

  “Oh! I…”

  “Yes?”

  “I mean, yes, Ma’am. I want to be ready.” I leaned over her, taller in my heels, and she pressed a feather-light kiss to the bare curve of my breast where it pushed out of the corset. “Yes, Ma’am.” It was a whisper. I took a length of black silk ribbon from the drawer and tied it around her neck, hiding the collar.

  “We know it’s there, but we can’t see it, just for the moment. How’s that?” She touched the bow, an involuntary gesture, feeling the collar beneath for a second. She nodded. I pushed the robe off her shoulders, then turned heel and marched into the playroom, relieved when I heard her quiet footfalls behind me.

  Michael reclined on the couch, reading. I peeped at the book in his hands—he really was reading it—such a sanguine man. My heart was in my throat, and he was engrossed in a thriller.

  “Say good morning, Liz.”

  “Good morning, Sir.” Her voice was low and sweet, and I could hear the nerves in it. But nerves only, no loss of control. I snapped my fingers and she knelt beside me. I stroked her hair.

  “Show Sir your breasts, kitten, lift them up for him.” She quickly obeyed, lifting her tits and pushing them together, weighing their heaviness in her hands. I snatched a crop from the table and tapped it on her thigh so she would spread them wider.

  “Fingers in, Liz, three. Open yourself up.” She arched her back and opened her pussy, fingers sliding in easily, I was happy to see. Michael put the book down, quietly, on the arm of the couch. Liz arched her back when I touched the base of her spine, ran the crop up her side, under the curve of her breast. Her nipples stood out hard and dark when I ran the tip of the crop over them. When I tapped and snapped and petted one with it, she moaned.

  “Quiet, kitten, now. I think that Sir might like what he sees.” I pressed her onto hands and knees, a push of my boot against her pubis made her crawl forward, breasts swaying for Michael’s entertainment. She stopped in front of him, and he leaned forward, waiting. I held my breath as she put her lips to his hand. He moved her hair out of her face, and she nuzzled into his palm, kissed the pad of his thumb. I took her by the hair and unzipped Michael’s trousers with my right hand. I eased his cock out of his trousers, stroked it, ran the tip against Liz’s parted lips. He took my hair and kissed me as I forced Liz onto him in turn, moving her head forward and back and setting a pace for her to suck him. I broke Sir’s kiss and moved around behind her, still guiding her head, but running my fingers down her spine, rubbing her buttocks, landing a smack here and there. She was working hard to suck him and thrust her ass back into my hand with each spank. Her legs were splayed wide, her pussy was wet when I eased two fingers in and started to fuck her. Ah, our kitten was happy to be used.

  She started making noises, and I could see from Sir’s face that they were vibrating through him. I pressed up on her G-spot.

  “Don’t think about coming yet, little kitten, not till you’re told. You’ll know when you can. Be a good girl for us, wait now.” I pressed harder, letting go of her hair and dropping my other hand to her clit. Liz’s hips started to pump in abandon, and she uttered a pleading groan around Michael’s cock.

  “Alright, kitten, show me.” He thrust into her mouth, thumbs on her jaw, and I gave her clit what she needed. I thought her orgasm from the night before had been a once-off, a display of pent-up longing, but the intensity was the same. Her scream was muffled by the length of Michael’s cock. He pumped into her, a look of astonishment on his face. It was hard to watch Liz coming and not join in. I hid a smile. Michael had slumped forward over Liz, hand in her hair as she rested on his lap. I raised her head.

  “Back to work, Liz, clean him all up with your little cat tongue.” I patted her ass, happily. Everything was coming up rosy.

  Michael’s plane leaves in three hours. I am on all fours on the bed, with my legs locked wide apart. It is Sir’s hand that guides our kitten’s face to my waiting slit, lets her kiss the silky skin there before pressing her mouth higher, to the smooth, waiting rose of my asshole. I whimper when I
feel her soft lips there, feel her tongue flicker and circle. Sir’s hand chastises me; his fingers tweak my clamped nipple. I want to escape, but at the same time I groan when her questing tongue is taken away. It’s soon replaced with cool lube, rubbed into me by Liz’s little fingers. They gently push and press and rub until two are inside me and I’m crying into the pillow, hungry for more. More comes. Her hands spread my cheeks wide, and I feel the different touch of Sir’s cock against me, stroking, nudging—Liz is holding me open for him, I realize with a groan. I’m so eager for it, Sir’s cock pushes steadily in without much resistance. It hurts, until I feel soft fingers against my clit, slipping inside me, rubbing against the wall of my vagina and stroking our master through the barrier of my skin. I hear his sigh, know he’s as affected by that as I am.

  A smack rings out, and then Liz is under me. Her mouth fastens to my clit, and she licks me just like I taught her. Her mound is right under my face, a plump cushion, and her clit is standing out for me to suck on. One of Sir’s hands grips my hips, the other presses an imprisoned nipple, I am filled by him and by Liz’s fingers, surrounded by the scent of her, the noise of the fucking, our sighs and moans and our flesh meeting. I am consumed with us. I clench on Sir with all I have, bite at the kitten clit between my lips, suck it and grind on her face at the same time. Six more hard, staccato thrusts, and Sir starts to come inside me, and the electricity zips from him to me. As I start to contract and scream, squeezing Sir’s cock and Liz’s fingers, it passes to her. We all come together until we collapse in a sweaty heap.

  I know Michael is checking his watch when he moves away, but he returns with a box. He uncuffs my legs, pats my face where it lies on Liz’s lap, and laughs. He leaves us there and goes to shower. When he returns, he’s in his suit, immaculate again. No sign he was deep in my ass just minutes before.