Best Lesbian Erotica 2004

by Tristan Taormino

  With that, she surprised me yet again, leaning me over a padded bar that reminded me of the kind I used to leap over during gymnastics class. With my head leaning forward, I could open my eyes, but the view wasn’t all that spectacular: the dusty beige floor tiles were about all I could make out. In the silence, I listened for clues, sweating and breathing rapidly. I felt a movement behind me and then her hand coming down hard on my ass. I jolted, pressing myself more tightly against the padded surface. She spanked me again, and continued, keeping a rapid rhythm that was getting me wetter and wetter. At some point I felt something new. I knew that it was no longer her hand but something much stronger making contact with me. The pain was a rush but I knew that it alone wouldn’t be enough for me.

  The rope cut into my ankles as I pressed them as far apart as they would go, which wasn’t very far at all. I could only rock back and forth, stick my ass out further, but my legs wouldn’t stretch in the way that I love them to. I felt torn between enjoying the delicious sensations my ass was receiving and wanting to move my legs apart. I wanted her to see and feel just how wet I really was. And then I heard a knock at the door. I sighed, not wanting to stop. She left my side to answer the door, and I heard a whispered conversation that I couldn’t make out.

  She returned with someone else, a stranger. I didn’t get to hear her introduce herself either. Jesse did the speaking for both of them. “M is going to take over now, because I have something else I need to do.” She didn’t ask me, just stated it simply. Her tone was totally calm, verging on disinterested, and it made me want to show off for her, impress her. Jesse lifted me up, then moved the bench away. I wanted that bench, wanted to have something to lean on, something to help me keep my composure, to prevent me from free-falling, literally and figuratively. But I had to trust that Jesse knew what she was doing; she certainly seemed to as she had me stand up straight, my ankles still bound, my wrists hanging together in front of me.

  She placed herself in front of me, her hand covering my pussy. I pressed against her, wanting to feel more contact. I was relaxing into this new sensation when I felt the first smack. It came much harder than Jesse’s, pressing me into Jesse’s hand and sending its vibrations through my whole body. I opened my eyes and looked up at Jesse, pleadingly. With her hand on my cunt, I wanted to spread my legs and slide her hot fingers into me, but of course that was impossible. Her fingers started working my clit, as the beatings continued. I let out a little scream, wanting to move. “Oh, so you think you’re going to come, do you? Is that possible, just from me playing with your nice juicy clit here, and M spanking you? Is it possible for you to come with those legs pressed so tightly together that it looks like you’re trying to hold in your pee? I want you to press them even more tightly together, that’s right.” And with that she took her hand away and moved behind me. “Now, my dear, you are in for a little treat.” I heard her open the door and let in our audience. I didn’t mind, thinking maybe she’d undo my legs for this. But she had something else in mind.

  “Now, my friends, here is Miss ‘I-can-only-come-with-my-legs-spread-far-apart.’ She prefers them spread all the way out, flung as far as they can go so her pretty little cunt is on display and she’s taking up as much room as possible. She told me that’s the only way she can come, but she agreed to let me play a little game to see if that’s really true. You can place your bets with each other but I’m warning you now—I’m a sure thing.” And then she sauntered back to me. “And just to make extra sure those legs stay put, I’m going to tie her up a bit more securely.” And with that she slipped another piece of rope around me and tied me yet again, this time at the thighs. The rope pressed into that fleshy area, and I could barely stand it. Now I really couldn’t move my legs and it was driving me mad. I wished she could at least tie me up with something between my legs to relieve some of this pressure she’d created.

  She bent down to whisper in my ear, and for once her words were kind and soft, a surprise to me. “I’ll make you come, sweetheart, don’t you worry.” And then she resumed her show for the crowd. “Now look at the way her legs are bound tight together, and yet she’s still trying to spread them apart. See her pushing against them here, and here.” She tapped me on the sides of my legs, Exhibits A and B of my struggle. “She thinks I can’t make her come with her legs pressed so tightly against each other and her pussy all squeezed in there. Well, I’ve already told you who the odds are on.” And then she took over where M had left off, and M took her position in front of me. I had little time to think as sharp, intense strokes fell on my ass, the pain of each settling in for only moments before another blow landed. I looked up at M to see her reaction but she stood there totally stoically, staring at me, like she was only there because Jesse had asked her to be. Her indifference maddened and excited me. Hers was the only face I could see, so I looked back at her. Then Jesse really started teasing me, using whatever had been sharply stinging my ass to do the same on the flesh right beneath it. I let out a long audible breath and scrunched up my face as I felt her move seemingly closer to my cunt with the whip, yet not close enough. I wanted something, anything, between my legs, or I was going to die right then and there. I was squirming and wet and by that point not even sure what I wanted. I struggled against the ropes just to feel any sensation other than the pinpoints of pain on the backs of my thighs.

  And then M, still looking quite dispassionate, leaned down and began licking my clit. She started off softly, and I restrained myself from pushing her head harder against me, knowing that Jesse wouldn’t stand for such insubordination. As it was, I just grunted. Both of them sped up their paces, the blows falling harder and harder on my ass, my thighs, my back. M used her tongue like a sword, cutting this way and that, no longer gently licking but forcefully beating my clit with her tongue. Then she sucked it into her mouth, as if it were my nipple, her lips and then teeth wrapping around it. The ropes dug deeply into my thighs as I rocked back and forth, left and right, any way I could. M grabbed my hip, digging her nails into my flesh, and I screamed, coming in such a flash of heat and power and liquid that I almost knocked us all over. Jesse and M stepped aside and moved me into a corner, leaving me to recover, gasping as I leaned against the wall.

  “Okay, ladies, thank you for coming.” With that, Jesse ushered our guests out the door, a few grumbles coming from the poor suckers who’d bet on me as they forked over their cash.

  Then Jesse stood staring down at me, a pitying look on her face. “You’re a smart girl but you have a big, bratty mouth. You should learn to watch that. If you’ve taken anything away from tonight, besides a sore ass and that greedy pussy of yours, I hope it’s that you should never, ever, say never when it comes to the way you can and can’t come. You just might surprise yourself.”

  As she leaned down to undo the knots that had held my legs together so well, I couldn’t help but agree.

  The Chick Magnet

  Skian McGuire

  It was only nine-thirty, and the Bijou was already packed. I was elbowing my way to the bar with ones and quarters when I felt a hand on my neck.

  “Whatcha got?” The chain I was wearing jerked me backward. Shiv shouted over the din, “Poppers?”

  I yanked it back and swapped Chris for the twenties she was waving at me before one of her customers could beat me to it.

  “Jesus Christ, Shiv, what are you doing here?” I turned back around, stuffing the bills deep in a jeans pocket. “If Verlaine sees you, she’s gonna throw you out.”

  Shiv ignored me, hauling at the small metal cylinder until we were nearly knocking skulls. “How do you open it?” She jammed it under her nose.

  I pried it away from her. “It’s Weegee’s,” I said, inspecting it in the light from the neon Budweiser sign to see what Shiv’s busy little fingers might have done. It looked the same, as far as I could tell. I tucked it back in my shirt.

  Shiv’s eyebrows had disappeared under her bandanna. She took a step backward. Weegee may be an
electronics wizard and self-made millionaire, but her hobby of inventing high-tech sex toys sometimes leads her down byways where no man has gone before, and from which many might run screaming.

  “It’s all right!” I told her. “It doesn’t do anything.”

  Shiv eyed me suspiciously.

  “It’s just calibrating.” I moved closer, trying to explain. Shiv backed into a statuesque blonde who shot her a look of icy disapproval. “Weegee wanted me to wear it into a crowd of lesbians. It’s getting programmed for brain wave frequencies,” I said.

  “Brain what?” Shiv squinted at me. “What?”

  “Brain wave frequencies! Weegee says it’s a transceiver for sex vibes.” Shiv shook her head and pointed to her ear. I cupped my hands around my mouth. “It’s supposed to attract girls,” I shouted into the silence as the music ended.

  Chris stopped pouring. “What’s the matter,” she asked, “can’t you get a date?”

  Shiv snickered. I gave them a dirty look.

  Behind Shiv, the blonde looked at me over the rim of her glass, her gaze unblinking. She lowered the drink as if in a trance and swayed. I wondered if I ought to tell Chris to stop serving her.

  Cold fingers scrabbled under my collar. “So why doesn’t Weegee wear it?” Shiv peered at the pendant. I grabbed it and tucked it back in my shirt.

  I shrugged. “She said something about proximity. I didn’t get it. Damn.” My pager was vibrating. I unclipped it from my belt and tried to read the display.

  “She needs it more than you do,” Shiv muttered.

  The office again. I sighed. What did the boss want this time? “Shiv, you better go back down to the Gorgons’ Cave,” I warned. The motorcycle club had rented their dingy, disgusting little basement space years before Verlaine bought the buildings for her bar. She knew that kicking them out would be bad PR in the dyke community. Evict the city’s only lesbian bike gang? Uh-uh. Never mind that the Gorgons consisted of twelve largely out-of-work, substance abusing ne’er-do-wells, with only eight motorcycles between them. Lisette Verlaine did what she had to. She didn’t have to like it.

  “Better go back to your ca-ave,” Shiv whined in an irritating little voice, mimicking me. “Go back to your ca-ave. Bad Shiv.” She slapped herself. “Bad Shiv.” She slapped herself again, harder.

  “Oh, brother.” I turned on my heel. The blonde stared after me. I was glad to lose her in the crowd.

  “Well, hello, lover,” a voice purred in my ear. I turned to the woman who tucked her arm in mine, drawing me up short in one smooth move. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” She reached up to plant a kiss on me that left me breathless. “Have you met my friend Charlie?” A tall butch with a coal-black buzz cut tilted her shades down and grinned, and I mumbled something inane, hardly taking my eyes off Moira.

  She followed my gaze. “Oh, do you like my blouse?”

  It was actually more like a silver lamé handkerchief with straps. She whirled a little to show it off, not letting go of my hand, and I glimpsed the curve of each gorgeous breast.

  Moira giggled.

  I leaned backward to try to regain the power of speech. I had, in fact, seen her just last week, but it certainly seemed that an age had gone by. Her long straight hair, formerly a fiery copper red, was now the color of raven’s wings. She was wearing a tiny black leather skirt, and clunky shoes with ridiculously high platform soles gave her legs like a fashion model.

  “We’re dyed to match,” she informed me, “in honor of the Morrigan.”

  She held Charlie’s hand, and it seemed only natural for Charlie to take mine, closing the circle. When the music kicked into a dance tempo, Charlie lifted one eyebrow and shuffled around behind me, her sleek body perfect in a narrow-ribbed A-shirt and baggy camouflage cargo pants that did nothing to hide the muscularity of her thighs. Moira twirled, and I found myself sandwiched in a miniature conga line moving sinuously to the insistent beat. Charlie’s strong square hands came to rest on my hipbones. Moira’s deliciously round behind fitted itself against my crotch.

  My pager went off.

  I extricated myself reluctantly. “Duty calls,” I told Charlie, who peered pleadingly at me over her shades. Moira placed a hand on either side of my face and drew me down for a lingering, voluptuous, turn-my-knees-to-jelly kiss. I was wondering how long it would take Verlaine to come looking for me, when the pager buzzed again.

  From the lobby doorway, I turned to wave and smacked head-on into the tall blonde. She blinked down at me in the yellow glare from the coat-check booth.

  “Do you come here often?” Her voice was pitched low and sultry. Her hand landed heavily on my shoulder like the claw in an arcade treasure machine.

  I fled up the stairs.

  “What took you so long?” Verlaine said when I flung open the office door, out of breath. “I was just about to…” She cocked her head quizzically and took three steps toward me. “Are you wearing a new cologne?”

  “Cologne? You know I never…”

  She crossed the floor, brushing the glossy mane of chestnut brown hair back from her face.

  “Sam.” She put her hands on her hips. “Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?”

  My jaw dropped.

  “I couldn’t run this place without you.” She swung the door shut. “You know…” She stopped, her brow furrowed in concentration, and brought her hands up to adjust my collar. “Is that a new shirt?”

  Her fingers brushed the chain around my neck.

  I stepped backward so fast my shoulder blades slammed into the door behind me with a teeth-loosening thud. I groped for the knob. In one motion, I pulled the pendant over my head and pitched it out into the hall. “Verlaine,” I squeaked, “what did you want me for?”

  Verlaine blinked. She glanced at her watch. With a look of annoyance, she strode across the small room to her desk. “There’s no water in the men’s room.” She thrust a piece of cardboard at me. “Hang this on the door. See if you can find the problem, will you?” She sat down and swiveled back to her computer. I heaved a sigh of relief. Then I looked at the Out of Order sign in my hand and got annoyed.

  “You paged me for this?” I thought of Moira and Charlie.

  “Why don’t you get Billy? He loves fixing things.” Verlaine hired me as security, but she’s never been above getting any odd jobs out of me that she can. Mostly, I don’t mind. Everybody knows how I feel about Verlaine, even though it’s been years since we were lovers. But I am not a plumber. I opened my mouth to tell her this.

  “I tried.” Verlaine scrolled down her spreadsheet. “The Gorgons are having a meeting. He can’t come.”

  I let myself out. She didn’t bother looking up.

  I cradled Weegee’s pendant in the palm of my hand and remembered the electricity of Verlaine’s touch, the scent of her hair. Her breath on my skin. A wave of loss so old I’d nearly forgotten it swept over me. I wondered if Weegee could make another one, calibrated for just one set of brain waves.

  I let the chain run through my fingers and, with a rueful laugh, stuffed it in my pocket.

  Downstairs, I paused in front of the men’s room, grumbling. Except when the Bijou is crowded, nobody uses it for anything but making out. I was going to hang the sign and not bother about the water; I remembered the jam-packed bar and thought again.

  At the sound of the restroom door wheezing shut, two heads turned, their eyes fogged with lust. One head was close-cropped and coal-black, the other smooth as a raven’s wing. They looked right through me and went back to what they were doing. Without a second thought, I pulled out the pendant and slipped it around my neck.

  I cleared my throat. “Hey, Moira. Hey, Charlie.”

  Slowly, two heads turned back toward me.

  “Sam,” Moira breathed, “where ever have you been?” Charlie tugged her pants up and staggered toward me, pitching the dark glasses into a sink as she passed. “Hey, hey, yourself,” she said as she laid a shaky hand against my chest and started
unbuttoning my shirt.

  “Mmmm, yes,” Moira murmured, pressing her breasts into my back. She reached around to open my fly.

  In what seemed like only a moment, my jeans and sneakers lay in a heap beneath the urinals. I sagged against Moira, whose fingers expertly teased my nipples. My sports bra was rucked up under my armpits, nearly strangling me, but I didn’t mind. Charlie’s wet face looked up questioningly from my crotch.

  “Now?”

  “Oh, I should think so,” Moira answered. “You don’t mind getting fucked, do you, Sam?”

  My groan was all the answer she needed.

  “Over there,” Moira directed. Charlie hoisted herself up onto a wide pedestal sink and pulled me up in front of her, her strong cammy-clad thighs squeezing my hips, the porcelain cold against my naked butt.

  “Swing your knees up over mine,” Charlie told me. Cool air hit my pussy. Charlie’s hands cupped my tits and Moira leaned forward to kiss me, slow and deep and heart-stopping, as Charlie’s lips found my ear.

  We all broke off to draw ragged breaths.

  In slow motion, Charlie’s hands stroked their way down my flanks, pushed through the crinkly damp hair of my bush, and pulled my lips apart. The slight brush of her knuckle against my aching clit was enough to make my hips jerk forward.

  “Patience, patience,” Moira admonished. She flipped up the little black skirt and set loose an enormous purple dildo, already sheathed in a milky-colored latex safe.