Coming Soon

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  I stop when the strap reaches my shoulder, leaving the broad buckle to rest at my crotch. Its heft is enough to lightly press down my puffy pussy lips, allowing my clit to peek out like a curious eel.

  I crave more pressure.

  I straddle the buckle with my fingers and press its edges into the lips of my pussy, which exposes pink skin, slick with anticipation. The prong rests gently against my clit. My center reaches toward the sky as my ass grounds me, pressed into the sheets. Everything feels on edge, like a chill up the spine.

  I hold the pressure and busy my free hand with the rest of the strap. I use its length to slowly draw the curve along my breasts, the eyelets bumping up and over my nipples, like music being fluted with every pass.

  I’m buzzing.

  I shift to my knees. Arching my back, I lift my ass upward to more directly expose my pussy. I swat myself, gently at first, aiming for my lips. Jolting stings linger between pauses, singing.

  My ass is next.

  I double up the strap with buckle kissing the tip, and after reaching behind, I crash the looped end fiercely against my naked cheeks. I bear down in pain and rear up with pleasure as I punish myself. I pump the rhythm over and over until I’m soaked with desire. Still, the angle isn’t sufficient for the intensity I crave.

  I return to my back, knees bent and spread wide. I unfold the belt and take the buckle in my palm and squeeze. The prong imprints a faint line on my fingertips. I stare at it until it fades.

  I play with the buckle a little, and watch as the metal folds down, pivoting on the bar, leaving the prong standing straight. Its rounded tip looks strong and gentle. I rub it downward across my clit. Its curve elicits soft moans.

  Fuck, yes. That’s it.

  The prong continues to slip its way along my begging clit. I push it along its continued path. I add pressure as it travels downward and release when it tickles its way back up. The metal’s weight adds the pressure of a lover’s tongue. My fingers, mixed with metal, are warm and slickened. I guide the prong up and down and up and down and spin little circles each time it reaches the crest of my clit.

  My breath becomes staggered as every shred of focus pounds at my groin. My orgasm can’t wait. With a lightning shot, my body tenses, thighs, arms, hands, grasping and gripping. They’re seeking to hold on as a wave of pure, sex pleasure freezes my brain. I jerk and pant and break open as I come, licked and lapped up by a brassy tongue.

  Breathing comes slowly now, as I reserve most energy for rejoining reality. A few more breaths and I’m revived enough to open my eyes and remember when and where I am.

  I continue to lie there and breathe slowly. After a few minutes, I stretch and feel awake enough to move.

  I shift to my side, press into my hand, and sit up. I place my feet on the floor, and I am quickly reminded how I got here in the first place. The edge of the laminated menu pokes at my toe.

  I flip the menu in the air with my toe and I smile. Now that I’ve had dessert, maybe it’s time for dinner.

  If this trip alone was worth anything, it was worth learning this truth.

  Belts have tongues.

  THE ELECTRICITY OF A DARK PEAK

  D.L. King

  “Itold you, no hands,” I said, glaring at the eager mouth below me and the pleading eyes just above it. My boy was, or at least had been, tied to my bed with his legs spread wide and his hands tied together above his head. I’m fortunate to have a bed with vertical bars on both the head and foot. It’s a nice, modern style, and I love it. It’s also very useful for immobilizing people.

  I had been enjoying a nice, relaxing ride on his very talented mouth until I was so rudely interrupted. Alec had managed to work his hands free and was reaching behind me to cup my bottom. And now my former state of bliss was ruined. I grabbed his hands and brought them back up above his head, quickly wrapped a length of rope around both of them, and refastened them to the crossbar at the head of the bed before raising myself from his face and swinging a leg over to get off the bed.

  He whined as I rose up. “But I could give you so much more if I could use my hands,” he groaned.

  “Not likely,” I said, casting a stern glance back at him on my way to the wardrobe. I opened the doors to the right—the ones that didn’t hide clothes behind them, and rifled around, finally returning with leather wrist and ankle cuffs. He groaned again when he saw what I’d brought, but couldn’t help smiling as I fastened them first to his wrists, spreading his arms apart and tying them to the bedposts. “I figured I’d get both sets, while I was at it,” I said as I replaced the ropes on his ankles with the cuffs. “It’s more comfortable for you since you’ve just earned yourself a much longer time in bondage.”

  Alec and I had been dating for almost six months. Oddly enough, we were “fixed up” by a mutual friend. I met her in yoga class and we struck up a friendship, going for coffee after class when we both had time. She didn’t know anything about me, other than yoga, work, coffee, and favorite books. She certainly didn’t know anything about my sexual proclivities. Alec was the IT guy at her office and, for some reason, she thought we might hit it off. How pleasantly surprised was I when I realized he was a sub hoping for the domme of his dreams to come along and sweep him off his feet?

  “Now, don’t annoy me,” I said as I settled back over his mouth. It took me a while to get back into the rhythm again, gently rocking and grinding against him as he licked and sucked my cares away. I find riding Alec’s mouth the absolute most relaxing thing I can do. It’s not meant to get me off; it’s just meant to take all my cares away and transport me to bliss, and working from home was giving me a lot of cares that needed to be transported away. Coming, for me, is another story, altogether.

  I reached behind me and gently massaged Alec’s cock, feeling it lengthen in my hand. I gathered up his balls and gently squeezed them, gradually applying more and more pressure until his tongue ceased caressing my folds and I could feel the hot breath of his panting. Now we were getting somewhere.

  Honestly, Alec was a real prize. We hadn’t been living together when the world changed, but we were now. Being confined at home, in the epicenter of a deadly pandemic, didn’t seem so devastating now. We were lucky. I was able to keep my job, working from home, and Alec was able to do the same, at least most of the time. He’d had to check on his company’s servers once since the stay-at-home order went into effect. Mostly, we stayed inside and got deliveries of food. We were lucky and we knew it. I hoped we’d stay this happy all the way through.

  We did what most people were doing: we cooked really interesting meals with whatever we had in the house; we watched Netflix with homemade popcorn; we went for walks, being careful to wear our masks and social distance ourselves from other walkers; we ordered wine online—and we had a lot of sex.

  Alec was still testing his limits with me, but I knew what I wanted and was more sure every day about what he wanted, even if he didn’t really understand it himself. You see, I need to be in control—I mean completely in control—when it comes to sex. And the biggest part is controlling the amount of pain and pleasure my boy receives. That kind of control is what gets me off.

  Of course, it only works if my partner feels the same way about things. I love taking Alec to the limit. I want to see him pant and beg. I’m happiest seeing him writhe in pleasure based on the pain I inflict. Seeing his eyes water as his cock strains and pre-come oozes from its tip makes me salivate and vibrate with sexual tension until I can’t stand it anymore and then, when the time is just right, I climb that jagged peak, only to throw myself off into oblivion. Sometimes it involves pushing Alec off with me and sometimes it involves making him watch me as he strains toward his own denied climax. But he always gets to come, in the end, one way or another.

  This is exactly what I need. Before I realized that, I never really understood what other women were talking about when they sang the praises of orgasm. I liked sex; it was nice, but it wasn’t this amazing thing I couldn�
�t live without. At least not until a friend recommended a series of books that just happened to be full of sexually dominant women. Those stories resonated in a way nothing had before. I sought out more information and the next time I had sex, putting those thoughts and images into my head gave me my first real, true orgasm. Suddenly, sex was not what I had previously known it to be, but something primal. Which brings us back to Alec, lying spread open to me, with no way to break free. The thought sends a shiver down my center, terminating in my clit.

  As I began to play with his body, his cock grew longer and harder and I grew wetter and wetter. I sucked on his nipples, making him moan, and then bit them, making his cock jump each time. With a small length of cord, I tightly bound and separated his balls until they were deep red and shiny and then lightly ran my finger over them, making him yip as his hips raised up to meet me.

  My nipples were tight and my breasts ached as I dipped my middle finger into lube and slowly slid it past his sphincter and began to fuck his tight hole. Colors flashed behind my eyes as I squeezed them shut, feeling the sensation around my finger and listening to Alec’s grunts and moans. I was transported to a dark fantasyscape where pinpricks of lights burst all around me and I could hear nothing but the roar of the sea. I felt like I could stay there forever, but I wasn’t finished with Alec yet.

  I opened my eyes and smiled down at him. “I’m so ready, baby,” he said, as he smiled back at me.

  “Ah, but I’m not,” I replied and reached for a large steel plug to coat with lube and push inside him. He screwed up his face and grunted as I worked it past his tight ring, but once it was seated inside him, he settled and sighed. “Like that, my darling?” He only sighed again as I continued to trace my fingers over his tight balls, even though the sensation made his cock jump and twitch with each stroke.

  I had retreated to a steady simmer now and needed to kick things back into gear to climb that dark peak again. It would require more than gentle sighs. I needed to see the ecstasy on his face that only I could give him. He cried out as I unwound the cord imprisoning his balls, shuddering as I first licked and sucked the tip of his cock. The taste of salt and his musky scent was strong as I drew him all the way into my mouth and raked my teeth against him as I withdrew. His balls had drawn up close to his body and were, once again, tight in their wrinkled casing. “Please,” he mumbled.

  “No,” I said.

  I think it might have been the “please” that got me. I was at the top of the peak with white and gold lights flashing all around me in the darkness. I knelt over him and shoved the tip of his cock against my engorged clit. Twisted it around just so, until it hit the right spot. My body began to vibrate and the lights became fireworks, going off in my brain. I could feel the electricity coursing through my tissues, all the way to my center. I looked down at my hand, pushing his cock hard against my clit, and wondered whether the electricity passed through me, into him. He writhed and strained against his bonds, hard as ever.

  Once the blinding sensation of my first orgasm of the day began to subside, I looked at him. Tears of pleasure were running down his face as he screwed his eyes closed. I could continue to torture and torment him in lots of devious ways and give myself several more orgasms—hell, just thinking of it was putting me on the verge of another one. But I could see he wanted to come so badly, needed to come, and I wasn’t greedy. Besides, I knew making him come would give me another release, anyway.

  I pressed up on the plug in his ass and, at the same time slid his cock inside me in one quick thrust. I sat there, straining forward just enough to hit the spot, circling and grinding the plug against him as I squeezed his cock inside me. I bore down hard as he mumbled incoherencies and as I felt him draw up, under me, I slid up all the way to the tip and hung there for a moment. As I crashed down on him again, I pulled the plug free from his ass and he came like he’d been shot from a gun.

  I collapsed onto his chest and with a series of small quakes, came again and again. We lay there a while, until I gathered myself together enough to reach up and undo his wrist cuffs. He brought his arms around me, squeezing me to him.

  “How do you do that?” he asked with wonder in his voice.

  “What?” I mumbled into his chest.

  “All that. What you do. How do you know how to do it? How do you know what I need? It’s like some kind of psychic ability or something.”

  “Oh, my darling, I just do what I like. I do what makes me feel good,” I said. “It’s lovely that you happen to like what I like, isn’t it?”

  After a shower, we made a dinner of homemade pasta with pancetta and peas in a béchamel sauce and the last of our fresh lettuce and tomatoes in a salad. Over wine, I suggested that he see if he could restock our vegetables with an online order.

  Alec had been at the computer for a while as I watched “Jeopardy!” When the show ended, he called me over. “Hey, look at this,” he said.

  I looked at the monitor. He wasn’t looking at groceries. On the screen was a picture of a guy with a broad smile on his face and his hand wrapped around his cock while a woman in a corset stood over him with some sort of box in her hand. There was a video imbedded in the still picture. I pressed play and saw a series of various implements, along with an electrical box. There was a voiceover explaining how the system worked and what could be done with it. It sounded like fun. But when the woman picked up the box and twisted a dial, making the man on the bed arch his back, I stopped hearing the voiceover and instead began to climb that dark peak again.

  “Clever boy,” I said, taking his left hand and sliding it under my skirt and inside my panties. “Show me the attachments you want.” He scrolled with his right hand and pointed out things he thought would be fun, like an electric butt plug and an electric penis cap, all the while using his left hand to play in my ever growing wetness as I purred.

  “I thought you might like it. Want to get it?” he asked as he inserted his index finger inside me and teased my clit with his thumb.

  My pupils were enlarged as I said, “Um, yeah, okay. Will we still be able to afford the vegetables, though?”

  WHAT YOU NEED

  Angela Addams

  There you are, back hunched in such a way that I want to run my hands along your shoulders, ease the tension I see there. But I know that won’t work, not tonight, not when you have that look on your face, the one where your eyebrows are furrowed and you’re biting your bottom lip. You’re stressed. You’re busy. Your eyes are attached by an invisible and unbreakable link to that computer screen, your fingers clicking away in a maddening frenzy. It’s like you’re not even breathing, you’re so focused on your work.

  You don’t even glance at me when I walk into the room. Not even a flicker of interest when I flop on the comfy chair to your left. For the briefest of moments I hesitate, a tug of defeat; maybe I should leave you alone.

  But then I scan your body, the rigid pose, the tension rolling off of you, and I know that I can’t. You need me tonight. You just don’t know it yet.

  We haven’t had a lot of time for each other lately. You know how it goes—life becomes all-consuming, pleasure takes a back seat. But I miss you and I know you miss me. I could tell by the way you were looking at me tonight while we ate in silence, too tired to have a real conversation, too distracted by what we needed to do next. Even so, it was there, in your eyes, the temptation, the yearning.

  You just don’t know how badly you need it, how important it is for me to take control.

  I dangle one leg over the arm of the chair, spreading myself for you, the thin cotton shorts I’m wearing pulling taut over my pussy, which is already wet. Just looking at you makes me wet. If I touched myself right now I’d feel damp cotton over the heat of my aching clit. Just the thought of touching myself makes my pussy throb, makes me clench up tight.

  You are very consumed by your work. I can see that. It makes me smile. You don’t even know what’s coming for you or rather, who is coming for you.


  I think about the time, not too long ago, when you came home from work and found me in the kitchen, on the phone chatting with a girl I know. You came up behind me, slid your arms around me, let loose one of those low growls that make my toes curl as you nipped my neck and cupped my breasts.

  I do that now, a smile on my lips as I watch you type away, oblivious to my hands molding to my breasts, squeezing just the way you like to, fingers spread over my budding nipples, sliding down until my thumbs brush roughly over their aching peaks then circling back again. The cotton of my tank top makes my touch achingly dull so I yank it down, my breasts popping out until they are framed by the cotton. I bring my finger and thumb together, gently rolling. Ah, yes, that’s better. Little pearls, so hard, I wish I could lick them myself. Or better yet, I wish you would. But there you are, still typing away, still busy and distracted.

  I let out a small sigh as I remember that night, your demanding hands moving from my breasts to my belt, the urgency as you opened my clothes, slid your hands into my pants, into my panties, straight to my pussy, your fingers spreading me, coating in my juice, fingering my clit.

  I do that now, one hand moving down my stomach, detouring over my hip, the soft skin exposed, trailing a finger along that delicate flesh before sliding beneath the elastic of my shorts. A light touch at first, just glancing my hard clit as I dip into my wet lips, coating my finger just as you had coated yours before returning to that aching nub.

  A little moan escapes and for a second I think I see your fingers hesitate, the clicking pause, but if you do, it’s only for the briefest of moments and then you’re right back to it, working so hard you don’t even notice.

  I’ve got one hand alternating between my breasts, flicking my nipples with my fingers, rolling them until they are so hard they’re like little pebbles. I lick my lips and roll my head back, my neck supported by the pillow of the chair. That’s fine, if you’re not interested. I let myself get caught up in the memory, my fingers opening my pussy up, sheathing myself in the tight walls of warm cushiony softness. I wish I could reach that sweet spot like you can. Your fingers are so skilled, you know my body so well, you rub me there and I come in seconds, hard, fast, until I scream. My way will be slower, the build longer, but I’ll get there.