by Harper Bliss
Eventually, she gave what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “So I don’t like parties. So what? We can’t all like the same things, can we? Otherwise the world would be a very boring place.”
“Hey,” Renee said, holding her hands up. “No need to get all defensive on me. You asked the question, I answered it. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Humph,” was all Patricia managed. Fixing her gaze on the television without actually seeing the flickering pictures, she wondered how she could extricate herself from this awkward situation. Somehow she sensed that simply announcing she was leaving wouldn’t wash with Renee. There was a quiet intensity to the pixie-like woman, something that Patricia imagined would make her very difficult to defy, if not impossible.
She was just mentally berating herself for being so damn British—sitting there like a good, polite girl, instead of doing what she really wanted to do, which was go home—when Renee chipped in with, “You’re kinda grumpy too, aren’t you?”
“No,” she shot back, “not at all. I just don’t like having my personality and habits dissected by a total stranger, that’s all.” Standing abruptly, she continued, “Now if you’ll excuse me, now I know you’re not a burglar, I’ll do what I came here to do, which was deliver Christmas presents, then I’ll be on my way.”
She resisted the temptation to stomp back out into the hallway, knowing she needed to keep quiet if she didn’t want her niece and nephew to discover she was there. If they caught sight of Aunty Patricia then her chances of getting out of the house before Joe and Maria came home were nil. In fact, she’d probably be lucky to make it out before New Year’s Eve. Instead she walked normally, opened the door to the hallway, picked up the gift bags, then retraced her steps to the living room.
Heading for the Christmas tree—gaudy and over-the-top as usual, as was her sister’s preference—Patricia carefully placed the parcels down towards the back of the large pile. That way they wouldn’t be spotted straight away, and the phone call to ask when she’d been round would be put off that little bit longer.
Straightening, she made for the door once more.
“What if we weren’t total strangers?”
Renee’s words stopped Patricia in her tracks, her hand in mid-reach for the door handle. She dropped it to her side. “Excuse me?”
Getting up, Renee crossed the room and quietly pushed the door shut. She remained standing very close to Patricia. “I said, what if we weren’t total strangers?”
Patricia sighed. “Yes. I heard you, but once again I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s simple, really. You said you didn’t like your personality and habits being dissected by a total stranger. So how about we get to know each other? Perhaps then you’ll allow me to dissect you some more.”
Patricia frowned and folded her arms across her chest. “And why on earth would you want to do that?”
“Because I know a little bit about you already, and I think you’re very interesting.”
“Oh, you do, do you? And what do you know, besides the fact I’m antisocial?”
“Well,” Renee stepped closer still, and it took all of Patricia’s willpower not to step back, not to show this cute pixie that she was intimidated by her, “I know, for example, that you’re a lesbian. And that you’re single…” She let her words tail off, and fixed Patricia with a gaze that was nothing short of wicked. And laden with intent.
Patricia gasped, not quite knowing whether it was Renee’s words, or that gaze which had elicited her reaction. She repeated her earlier words. “So what?”
The other woman chuckled. “Oh, Patricia, do you really not get it?”
Her facial expression was obviously answer enough, because Renee paused only briefly before continuing, “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while, you know. Ever since I knew you liked girls but didn’t have a partner. I’d seen photos of you—I think you’re hot, by the way—and the more I learned, the more intrigued I became. But you’re a tough woman to pin down. So I bided my time. When your sister asked me to babysit tonight, I wondered if my patience would finally pay off. As far as you knew, the house would be empty, and as far as I knew, you hadn’t brought the Christmas presents round yet. So, after all this time, a mixture of tenacity and coincidence has brought us together.”
“Okay…” Patricia said. “So are you some kind of weirdo stalker, or what? Assuming you’re getting at what I think you’re getting at, surely there has to be an easier way to meet women.”
Rolling her eyes, Renee then flashed her a good-natured grin. “Of course there is an easier way to meet women. There are lots of ways. But I didn’t want to meet women. I wanted to meet you.”
The conversation had been weird since the moment it had begun, but now it was veering down the route of insane. Patricia idly wondered if perhaps she hadn’t gone to her sister’s at all, but had actually fallen asleep at home and was now enjoying a delightfully bonkers dream. But this was nuts even for her—she generally dreamt about people she knew. Not strangers.
Torn between her inadvisable attraction to the apparently crazy pixie and wanting to get away from said crazy pixie, Patricia remained rooted to the spot, the ache between her legs growing with every passing second. Fucking hell, talk about getting horny at inappropriate times. “And why’s that?” she gritted out.
The good-natured grin turned hopeful. “Because I thought you and I would make a good match. At least once I can get past that defensive, suspicious shell of yours. I can see I’m going to have to be a bit heavy-handed, otherwise we’ll both be old and grey by the time I’ve achieved that.”
Patricia scowled. “Heavy-handed? Huh, I’d like to see you try.”
Renee’s eyes glinted. “Oh, really? Sounds like a challenge to me. Well, I accept.” She paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. “Patricia… kneel down in front of me.”
“Wha—” Patricia’s mouth dropped open, but only part of the word came out, the rest stuck somewhere between her brain and her tongue.
The only response she got was a pair of pointedly raised eyebrows, the eyes beneath them steely and determined. Masterful.
In spite of herself, Patricia’s knees began bending, and she felt a little bit like Alice, watching the world around her shoot up as she shrunk. Only she wasn’t shrinking, just dropping to the mercifully thick carpet, then looking up at Renee, wide-eyed.
“Good girl.”
Christ, the pixie’s words and tone made it sound as though she was talking to a dog, not a person. Patricia should have been outraged, but in a bizarre twist of fate, her arousal grew. As did her need to please Renee. She didn’t know where it had come from, or why, just that it existed.
“You up for some fun, Patricia?” Renee stood, hands on her hips, sassy as you like and waiting for a response.
Patricia narrowed her eyes—apparently her sudden obedience hadn’t obliterated her common sense. “What kind of fun?”
“The kind of fun we’ll both enjoy, that doesn’t involve leaving this room, and won’t wake the kids.”
She couldn’t really argue with that, could she? They were both adults… and who wouldn’t want more fun in their lives? “Okay… but Maria and Joe—”
“Aren’t due back for at least a couple more hours. And that’s if it’s a bad night. If it’s a good night, they’ll be out much later than that. So, do I take it that your answer is a yes?”
“Y—yes, it’s a yes.”
“Good girl,” Renee said again, but this time her tone was more thoughtful than condescending, and Patricia found herself eagerly anticipating what was going to happen next. What precisely did the masterful pixie have in mind? And how the fuck could someone that looked like a pixie be masterful in the first place? Or should that be mistressful?
Patricia shook her head. Now she was making up words—probably not the best use of her time, when she should be pouring all of her concentration into the here and now. Luckily, Renee didn’t seem to have noticed her laps
e.
Rocking her weight—slight though it was—from one leg to the other, Renee said, “Okay, I have an idea. Strip your clothes from the top half of your body.”
Still not quite knowing why, Patricia obeyed. Within moments her jacket, t-shirt and bra were in a pile next to her. It was only then she realized that, as well as her clit swelling and yearning for attention, her nipples were equally perky. They stood proud, pointing towards her tormentor, and she knew there was no way she’d be believed if she said they were behaving that way because it was cold.
“Nice,” Renee commented, raking her gaze up and down Patricia’s half-naked form, then licking her lips. Both actions ramped up Patricia’s arousal further still.
“Okay,” her tormentor said, stepping closer, “let’s see what you’re made of, shall we?”
With that, she leaned down a little, took Patricia’s left nipple between her thumb and fingers, and pinched hard.
Something between a gasp and a moan escaped Patricia’s lips. Fuck, that had hurt!
Before she had chance for any further reaction, Renee repeated the action on Patricia’s other nipple, a wicked grin on her face. “Normally I’m more into giving spankings and floggings, but given that wasn’t an option this evening, I had to think outside of the box. And I’m very much enjoying it. Are you?”
Patricia’s mind raced. She knew she’d been asked a question, but she was too busy trying to process the comment about spankings and floggings. Sensing that delaying her answer any longer would not end well for her, she blinked a couple of times, and eventually forced out, “Yes.”
Was she, though? Was she enjoying being half-naked on her knees in her sister’s living room, having her nipples pinched by a sadistic pixie?
The throbbing in triplicate from her clit and her nipples silently agreed with what she’d actually said.
“I like giving pain,” Renee said, now using both hands to twist cruelly at Patricia’s stiff nubs.
She stated what was now blatantly obvious, but Patricia kept the thought to herself. Renee hadn’t asked a question, so there was no need to respond. She’d simply keep quiet and see how this bizarre situation played out.
“It gets me off,” she continued, busily inflicting agony on Patricia’s tits. She cupped them, squeezed them roughly, slapped them lightly—though Patricia suspected if she hadn’t been trying to keep the noise down, she’d have been hitting much harder—scraped her nails over the sensitive flesh, and kept on with the pinching, pulling and rolling of the nipples.
By the time Renee stepped back in order to admire her handiwork, Patricia’s chest felt like one giant throb. It burned and ached, a seemingly impossible mixture of pleasure and pain, and Patricia shifted uncomfortably, wishing she could do something to ease the yearning between her legs.
Apparently, it was not to be. Renee had other ideas. Smirking, she undid the belt on her skinny jeans, followed by the button and the zip. Shoving the material, along with her knickers, to her ankles, she kicked the garments off. She was now as naked on the bottom half as Patricia was on the top.
“On your back,” Renee commanded.
Patricia complied. She had an inkling of what was going to happen next, and her mouth watered in anticipation. Her view was soon full of the sight of Renee, who firstly placed her feet either side of Patricia’s head, then got to her knees.
The scent of pussy filled Patricia’s nostrils, producing moisture from both her mouth and her own sex. She drew in a deep breath, delighting in the olfactory goodness, and waited. A moment later, she was rewarded as Renee settled directly over her face.
“Eat me, Patricia. Use your mouth—and your mouth only, mind—to make me come, and if you’re good, I’ll consider allowing you to come, too. But you have to be good, remember? Only good girls get presents at this time of year.”
As far as Patricia was concerned, the opportunity to eat this gorgeous woman’s pussy was her Christmas present. But if she could lick her way to earning a climax of her own, she certainly wasn’t going to complain.
Shuffling into the optimum position, Patricia then reached up and cupped Renee’s buttocks—which were warm, soft and firm all at the same time—and pulled her down onto her open and willing mouth. Immediately, she got to work. Her taste buds were quickly bathed in Renee’s juices, and she let out a groan as she lapped and flicked, exploring her lover’s vulva thoroughly in order to get a handle on what she liked, what she didn’t, and, ultimately, what would make her climax.
It seemed Renee hadn’t exaggerated when she said inflicting pain got her off, because Patricia had barely gotten into her stride when a series of muffled groans came from somewhere above her head, and Renee began rocking on her face, riding it almost. Patricia had gone from actively giving pleasure to simply having it taken from her, and she found she didn’t mind, not one bit. All that mattered was the beautiful girl sitting on her face and the tangy juices coating her lips and seeping into her mouth. There was nothing more amazing to her than watching another woman climax, and although she’d been given little choice in the matter, she was happy to lie back and enjoy the show.
All too soon, the show was at an end. Renee shuffled off of Patricia’s face and settled onto the carpet in a heap, breathing heavily.
Unsure what to do next, Patricia sat up, drawing her knees to her chest in an attempt to cover up. She didn’t want to make the next move and get it wrong, but nor did she want their encounter to end there. She wanted more, so much more. The whole thing could have been written up and placed as the definition of ‘out of the blue’ in a dictionary, but although she had no answers yet—it would take a while of sifting through her own thoughts and feelings on this—she knew one thing for sure: it had been the hottest experience of her life to date. Further exploration was definitely on the agenda, whether it was with Renee or not, but first she had to deal with her immediate future.
Just then, a rattle and a burst of laughter came from the direction of the front door. Fuck—Maria and Joe were home! Patricia and Renee looked at each other, horrified, then leapt into action. Knowing that putting a bra on at speed was impossible, Patricia ignored it and reached for her t-shirt, pulling it on, followed by her jacket. Then she retrieved her bra and stuffed it into her jacket pocket, pulling the zip to keep it secure.
A glance over at Renee revealed she wasn’t having quite such success at speedy dressing. In her post-orgasmic haze, she’d barely gotten her feet back into her jeans.
Patricia made a snap decision. Stepping to Renee, she planted a quick kiss on her lips, murmured, “Get my number from Maria,” then moved for the living room door. Opening it just enough to slip through, she said loudly—though not so loud the kids would hear—“Sorry to have disturbed your film, Renee. If you could let Maria and Joe know—oh!”
Her forward motion carried her into the hallway, where she pulled the door closed behind her. “Hi, guys,” she said, glad that Maria and Joe were more than a little drunk, and therefore hadn’t yet gotten as far as turning on the hall light. “You’re back early. Did you have a good night? I was just in the area, so I thought I’d pop in and drop your presents off. They’re under the tree. How’s your dad doing, Joe? Renee said he’s not well…”
She was waffling, of course, but was hopefully buying Renee enough time to get herself sorted out.
As her sister and brother-in-law blinked at her confusedly, she realized they were more inebriated than she’d first thought. “Right!” she said brightly, retrieving her keys from where she’d left them on the hall table, “I’ll get going, then. Talk to you soon. Bye, guys!”
Escaping into the cold night, her breath misting in front of her, Patricia stifled a giggle. It was probably more hysteria than amusement, but she didn’t care. She just hoped Renee had managed to make herself decent before the drunkards had gone into the living room.
She glanced back at the house as she slid into the driver’s seat of her car. The front door opened, and Renee slipped out,
grinning, and headed straight for Patricia’s car.
Huh, it looked like the evening wasn’t over yet. But was she going to get her present? She pressed the button to open the car window, guessing she’d find out soon enough.
And well, if she hadn’t yet earned it, she was more than willing to make up the difference.
One Hundred Strokes
Sinclair Sexsmith
“May I sit?” Morgan’s voice surprises Elise; she hadn’t seen her approach. She looks up from her book and blinks, then composes her face and her answer at once.
“Are your chores complete?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Tell me.” This is their ritual every night, the way they love to come back together. Elise’s eyes sparkle as she fights the urge to reach out and grab her, pull her into her lap. Rituals are important, she reminds herself. Not only to display her authority, though yes that too, but also to remind her of all that she does, the many ways she is devoted. Elise stays more present in gratitude and strives more successfully to be worthy when she pays attention to their rituals.
Morgan begins the list. “Your tea service is complete; the dishes are done and put away; your clothes and jewels are put away, and tomorrow’s are laid out for you. Sir Elvis Purrmeister has been fed.”
Elise feels a smile pull on the corners of her mouth, starts to suppress it, and lets it come. Her cat’s name is just Elvis, but Morgan has taken to adding the honorific and surname, and Elise is too amused to have her change it. It is clear who is above whom in the hierarchy, anyway, so the proper respect is just one more thing to admire about Morgan.
“Tomorrow’s schedules, both yours and mine, are next to the bed and the morning alarms are set. The bed is turned down. And, I have picked tonight’s implement. It is in the usual place on the nightstand.” Morgan doesn’t look smug or tired, just pleased to be useful and grateful to be serving.
