Take Me There

by Tristan Taormino

  “You like that, don’t you? Dirty girl. You’ve been waiting for someone like me to come along and fuck you right, haven’t you? Haven’t you?” Jack thrust harder, slower, then sharp.

  “Yes, oh, god, Jack, fuck me, just like that,” Alice moaned. That’s it, that’s exactly it. Jack slid one arm around her waist and twisted, pulled out and shoved her onto the bags of fertilizer, dropping her on her ass harshly, and she reached down to catch herself with her hands, her legs slightly tangled in the fabric of her tiny shorts.

  Alice reached up and gripped the bar of the lawnmower next to her, lifting her feet off the ground, legs together, balancing on her ass. Jack slid the shorts down her tanned, slender legs and stepped between them, squatting, pushing her knees back against her chest, their faces inches apart.

  Her big blue eyes were wide open.

  Jack slid the cock inside her eager cunt again and tried to keep looking at Alice, tried not to miss a minute of this, sun and surf behind Alice’s head, California traffic zooming by on the PCH, Alice’s face flushed, neck arched, hands gripping, pulling, steadying. The lawnmower shook as Jack thrust and thrust, harder, gaining speed, getting faster.

  “Your pussy feels so good,” Jack mumbled. “So tight around my cock. Squeeze me, oh, god, yeah, just like that, feels so good, feels so fucken good.”

  “Oh yeah, fuck me,” Alice breathed. “Come inside me, oh, yeah, you can do that, can’t you, big boy? Fuck me hard until you come inside. I’ll pump that come from your cock with my tight pussy. You like that? You can feel that, can’t you, Jack?”

  Jack bucked against Alice, tight and hard, shoving into her over and over until Jack came, swearing, and softened, slowed. Alice caressed the back of Jack’s head, the short-short hairs and longer ’hawk in the middle, just a little, just for a minute, until Jack’s eyes, gleaming, met hers.

  “Strip.”

  Alice’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “We’re going in.” Jack nodded toward the beach and stood, lifting the A-shirt up and off, revealing toned chest muscles, those thin red strips of scar, the swirls of dark tribal tattoos, California-brown skin. Hopping out of the truck, nearly naked and completely unselfconscious, Jack jogged toward the cliff’s edge and found a path down, through the beach grass and lines of rocks against the road. Another car zipped past, an old sedan, then the sound faded around the corner of the PCH.

  Alice followed, watching as Jack awkwardly stripped off the CK briefs while attempting to run in the sand toward the water, body exposed to the elements, shivering for a second. Alice thought she sensed a moment of reverence as Jack’s hands ran along opposite upper arms, shoulders, pecs, head dipped slightly forward. Finally at home in this body. Jack opened up, arms stretched like wings, wide as the horizon. Alice felt giddy, high with delight. She let her body pick up speed while gravity pulled her down the path of the cliff’s edge and broke into a run when she hit the sand. Her shorts were still in the back of the pickup somewhere, her legs bare, feet bare, only her cut-off tank top remained, and she pulled it over her head, dropped it near an obvious large boulder.

  Jack splashed into the water, tossed the words back at her: “Come on!”

  Alice hovered near the edge of the surf, ankle deep in lolling waves and wet sand, kicking at the water. She watched Jack immerse and surface, strapped blue cock and leather harness wet and becoming looser around Jack’s hips, hands running through the wet ’hawk falling in both eyes, and Alice dove into the surf, slid through the water, cool and soothing against the heat of the day. She surfaced and couldn’t see Jack, then let her body float, weightless, on the rolling waves, until something abruptly pulled her under.

  She opened her mouth with a startled “Oh!” and then it was full of salt water. Her arms and legs flailed as she struggled back to the surface, gasping at the air.

  Jack was smiling, stifling laughter, next to her.

  “Oh, you think that’s funny, do you?”

  Jack’s laughter stopped suddenly and changed to a falsely serious playful face. Alice closed the distance between them quickly and, smirking, grabbed for the strap-on, pulled hard, forced Jack under the water, both of them struggling, Jack grabbing onto Alice for support as they were both pulled deeper under the water.

  They untangled, emerged, gasping and laughing. Jack lunged for Alice in a tail dive, took hold of her waist, lifted her legs. She leaned back into the water as Jack found her clit, slid fingers inside, held her hips up.

  “Ohh, that’s good,” she crooned. “Oh, god. Damn. That’s perfect…oh fuck, your fingers inside me feels so good. I can’t—I want—” She had no leverage. She could feel the sandy ocean floor with her toes, but wanted her ankles up on Jack’s broad shoulders.

  Jack pulled-pushed her farther toward shore, half walking, half swimming, bodies touching everywhere, Alice being pushed backward as Jack walked along the sand, both of them holding each other’s eyes and bodies up in the water, Jack’s cock bobbing against her leg. She bit her lip to keep from sucking her tongue in her mouth, remembering how that blue cock tasted and felt.

  The ocean rocked around them, then she hit sand with her butt first, soft sandy ground, then Alice was laid out as the wave receded, kissing, nude, Jack’s hands between her legs, greedy, pushing her thighs apart, thick fingers entering her and she gasped.

  “I think it’s time you came for me,” Jack whispered gruffly, mouth rough on her cheek, pressing Alice against the sand, pushing her legs apart. “Come on, open up that cunt for me, squeeze my fingers. You feel me deep inside you?”

  Alice gasped, body balanced on every sensation, heels in the air, thighs pressed back against the wet sand. Jack worked her clit with expert precision, making slow circles, a slick thrumming, and then another wave broke at their feet.

  “I’m gonna make you come so hard,” Jack breathed into her neck, fingers moving harder, faster, between her legs, pulsing over her clit. “You’re going to come just for me, just for me, pretty girl. Feel my fingers workin’ your pussy? You’re gonna do it for me, aren’t you? Let go, just let it all go and come for me, come on girl, fuck, yeah, do it.”

  Alice, gasping, toes curling, swollen cunt pressed hard against Jack’s hand, felt her muscles tighten and vibrate, swell and then explode, thick and fast and deep, Jack’s fingers thrusting, pressing hard against her hard clit, as her stomach contracted and body shook. She screamed a string of profanities and gripped Jack’s wrists, clawed at the muscles of Jack’s shoulders. She moaned and yelled, eyes open and suddenly aware of the darkening sky, the bright stars beginning to be visible outside of the city, twilight fading fast to blackness.

  Jack touched her thighs and stomach for a minute as her body calmed. Alice became suddenly aware of her wet feet, bare body, the breeze coming from over the ocean, the sound of the water, waves still tickling her calves and knees, cooler than the air and soothing.

  “I, uh,” Jack stammered, suddenly quiet again. “Guess we should get back on the road.”

  Alice nodded. She wanted another Lucky Strike, was beginning to feel chilled. And she wanted to blow Jack behind the wheel again.

  Jack offered her a hand up and they both brushed sand from their bare skin. Alice took in the toned chest and arm muscles, the dark curly tattoos, and Jack let her look, glancing at her face and stripping off the wet leather harness.

  Her eyes sparkled.

  Walking through the sand, gripping the cock and letting the harness dangle, Jack headed toward the truck. Alice stood for a moment, watching the shimmering reflection of the rising new moon in the surface of the water, listening to the crash and rush and whoosh of the waves. She turned away from the water and watched Jack’s ass and thighs moving along the path ahead of her, wondering how many miles until they’d reach the city, how long before their insatiable appetites would flare up, and how long until she would get fucked again by this beautiful man.

  OUT ON LOAN

  Arden Hill

  The sweet boy I’m
borrowing looks younger than ze is, though that might be rude to mention—especially now that ze’s changed out of those baggy black pants and into one of the smart little sailor suits that I keep in the spare room closet. I haven’t told hir about the dungeon yet. I like the element of surprise, blindfolding submissives and shuffling them down the hallway into a space they had no idea existed. The elevator was installed in 1987 by the woman who owned the house before me, and it shakes so much that it’s impossible to tell which direction the elevator is traveling. I use this to my advantage, riding up to the attic and proclaiming, when the door opens, “Not this level, people might still hear the screams.” The door shuts and the submissives shudder as we descend into the basement. When I lead them out, they think they’ve been traveling for miles. There is a sign in the dungeon right near the elevator. The submissives don’t see it but the Dominants I bring down here do and get quite a kick out of it. The sign reads HALFWAY TO HELL. Really it’s only a few feet away, behind a red velvet curtain.

  The boy has been polishing my gear for about an hour now. Ze rubs the cleaning cloth in small circles and looks up at me every now and then. If I hadn’t talked to the boy’s owner I’d think ze was perfectly submissive, but Rose says the boy can quickly turn cheeky. I’ll be ready when ze does. I’ve been studying hir, starting with the expression on hir face when ze entered the small room and saw only a few whips and modest restraints decorating the four corners of the bed. I could practically hear hir disappointed sigh. I do respect that ze tried to hide those feelings from me, even mustering a “Thank you, Mistress, for inviting me over.”

  Cleaning allows the boy to informally tour my collection of erotic items. I’ve seen hir eyes widen at a few pieces. This lets me know what to bring with me on the next step of our playdate. Ze’s traveling down into the space well. “Boy,” I ask hir, “What do you think of my collection?”

  “It’s beautiful,” ze whispers.

  “And how does it compare to your owner’s?” I ask sweetly.

  Ze almost grins knowing that this is a trick question, believing that ze can show both the proper respect to me and to hir Mistress, whom ze knows I am quite close with. “I’ve never seen so many kinds of floggers,” ze begins. “Each one looks as though it has its own purpose.”

  “They do,” I say.

  “My Mistress only has a few floggers; she favors canes,” ze adds.

  “I’m sure her cane collection is quite impressive,” I purr.

  “Yes,” ze agrees, “it is.”

  “And is there evidence on your back?” I ask.

  “Yes,” ze says shyly, “bruises from a third of the collection.”

  I smile and tell hir ze’ll be showing me later. The boy goes back to polishing my gear. There is a row of boots in the closet that I’ll set hir on next time. Today I’m eager to work on hir flesh and have hir provide the other services I need.

  As the boy cleans, I walk past hir to a small picture of a curvy girl in a corset. It’s a black-and-white, very well done and taken by an ex-lover of mine. At least when they leave, they leave something to remember them by. I bring my hand to my left nipple and feel the barbell. It had been fun training that New York submissive to pierce me. I practiced on her flesh for months, showing her how it was done, and enjoying myself in the meantime. By the time New York and I parted ways, she knew how to play pierce me as well. She never got a smug attitude, never got confused as to her role in servicing me. I hear she’s switching now, back in the city. Maybe she’ll like it. Me, once I started topping, I didn’t go back. I get my variety by co-topping and triple teaming. Sometimes the feminist leather daddies lend me their boys to cure any squeamishness they might have about girls. I start those fags off with a little bit of glitter strap-on girl cock and have them finish by licking my pussy and working their way back. Everybody has an ass, right? And nipples.

  I graze my piercing again before flipping the black-and-white photograph over to reveal a metal ring set into the wall. The boy looks up open mouthed. “Careful dropping your jaw like that,” I tease. “I might just fill it up. You didn’t really think I had no tricks up my sleeve did you?

  “No, Ma’am,” ze confesses.

  “Come now boy,” I scold, “you know my reputation.” Ze nods. “Don’t you think I earned it?” Ze nods again. “And do you think I could have earned it with just four restraints on a double bed?”

  “No, Ma’am,” ze replies.

  I move over and slap hir lightly across the face. “Doubting my skills,” I hiss, “wrong answer.” Ze whimpers a bit. I’m keeping hir where I want hir. When ze’s finished cleaning, I’ll put the blindfold on and have some fun.

  “Finished, Ma’am,” ze says, gently putting the last curved piece of stainless steal back into its case.

  “We’re just starting,” I tell hir. I slip the handcuffs over hir wrists and lock them. Ze whispers as I push hir roughly to the wall and fasten the cuffs to the metal ring with one of the padlocks ze’s just cleaned. “I expect there will be quite a bit to clean once I’ve finished with you,” I say.

  My favorite blindfold is black leather with a padded inside. I slip it around hir head now and tie it tight. “I’m going to take you down into the dungeon now,” I tell hir as I unlock the handcuffs from the wall. Hir mouth shows hir surprise though I’m sure hir eyes are wide, too, if they are open under the blindfold. “Walk forward,” I say when I’ve got hir by the chains. I guide hir slightly by pushing on hir shoulders. “Turn left. The elevator is down the back hall. I guess Mistress Rose wanted you to have a surprise,” I tell hir.

  We reach the elevator and I press the button. Ze hears the elevator creaking before the doors open. “Oh, good,” I say. “It wasn’t too far down.” I shove hir in and ze slams against the wall. I stick my foot under hir and ze hits the floor. “Careful boy,” I warn. “Stand on up.” The elevator lurches and ze struggles to stand. By the time ze’s regained hir feet, the elevator has reached the attic. I let the door open. “Hmm,” I muse, “Perhaps another time. I think today we’ll use a different level.” I smile at the boy, though ze can’t see me. Soon we’re stepping into the basement dungeon. Ze’s still wearing the slit pants. I grab hir roughly and jerk the pants down. “You can keep those boxers on, for now,” I tell hir. Hir skin is goose bumped, a combination of anticipation and the basement’s slightly cooler climate. I cup hir crotch and am not surprised to find hir hard. “Big boy,” I say. “Like a ripe mulberry and you’re just as juicy. I’ll wear gloves so you don’t stain my fingers.”

  “Thank you,” ze says.

  “Now tell me,” I say, “are you nervous?”

  “Yes,” ze replies.

  “And,” I ask, “are you worried you won’t be able to take it?”

  “Yes,” ze says.

  I smile, enjoying the power I’ve coaxed hir into giving me. Ze’s mine for the evening. I won hir from hirself in the little bedroom upstairs and while ze may be a sore loser, it will only be in hir tender flesh. Rose told me how much ze wants to play. I flick hir dick and slip a finger into hir before ze can pull away. I don’t doubt that desire and I’m as wet as ze is. I pull my finger out of hir and whisper, “My turn.”

  With the blindfold on, the boy is hesitant to move. I tug on hir hair and yank hir collar to urge hir closer to the table in the middle of the dungeon. Once I have hir leaned against the front, I shove hir chest hard. Ze falls back and I fix one of hir wrists into the restraints. Ze’s squirming but ze’s moaning so loudly I know ze doesn’t want to get away. “Time for those briefs to come off,” I tell hir. “Be a good boy and lift your ass.” Ze complies, slowly raising hir cheeks off of the wood. Because of how ze landed, hir ass is not over the table’s adjustable section. Ze’ll find out soon enough how special my table is. “I flick open a knife. Ze instantly stills. “You know that sound?” I ask.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” ze replies.

  “Do you think I will cut your clothes or cut your skin for disobeying?” I ask
.

  No clever little grin on this boy now. Ze has no idea what the right answer is. I’ve decided that the right answer is going to be whichever answer ze does not give.

  “My skin?” ze guesses.

  I don’t answer but I bring my hands down on hir flesh. Ze jerks as though ze’s been shocked. “I don’t want to dirty my knife right now,” I tell hir as I slice through the sides of hir boxers. Ze’s dripping and hir ass is clenching and unclenching like an eager little mouth. I lick my lips and position hir free wrist and legs into the restraints. I unhook hir binder and ze gasps a little. “Back in a minute,” I tell hir. I’ve got just the toy. I move silently around the table and reach into the side container which holds the butt plugs that work with the mechanisms I have rigged under the table. I pick a medium-sized plug that looks like a purple snowman. Under the last ball the neck is wide and short. I turn a crank and a circle of wood lowers from under the boy’s ass. Ze flinches and struggles. That reaction isn’t just from the cold air. When the circle is low enough I screw the dildo into place and pour some lube over it. I watch it drip down like sauce over ice cream.

  “Your ass is just going to eat this up, boy,” I say as I put lube on my finger and reach up. The boy’s ass is smooth. Latex makes it difficult to tell if ze’s shaved hirself or if, sans testosterone, ze’s naturally hairless. Ze squirms when I enter hir and tries to lift hir body off of the table. “Oh, I have a way to keep you still,” I warn. Ze whispers and I pull out of hir slowly. I just used one finger but I could tell from how ze opened that ze’s taken a lot more than that. If I know Rose’s love of toys, it hasn’t all been fingers.

  With the boy lubed up, I turn the crank and raise the butt plug closer to hir ass. I turn it slowly and tell hir what I am doing, “I’m going to lock you into place as Rose says you have a habit of forgetting it.”