by Alex Algren
KINKY!
EXPLICIT EROTICA
EDITED BY
ALEX ALGREN
WWW.CLEISPRESS.COM
Copyright © 2014 by Cleis Press.
All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, or television reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in the United States by Cleis Press Inc.,
2246 Sixth Street, Berkeley, California 94710.
Cover design: Ryan T. Smith
Cover Photo: iStockphoto
E-book ISBN: 978-1-57344-987-8
Contents
Introduction: Down the Rabbit Hole
All in a Day’s Work • SASKIA WALKER
Undercover • ILY GOYANES
Chill • KATHLEEN BRADEAN
Welcome Home • SHAKIR RASHAAN
The Power of No • TERESA NOELLE ROBERTS
Small Windows • TERESA LAMAI
About the Authors
INTRODUCTION: DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
Can you ever get enough kink? The pungent scent of latex; the feel of a silk flogger tickling bare skin; the punishing whip-snap of a leather belt—the sensory overload sends you spiraling, your senses flooded with forbidden desire. It can’t be helped; it’s simply what you need. And it’s what you’ll get if you surrender to these taboo tales…
A mysterious girl with supernatural powers emboldens a secretary to dominate her boss in Saskia Walker’s “All in a Day’s Work.” In Ily Goyanes’s “Undercover,” a Miami vice cop stakes her career on a night of lust with a voluptuous criminal. An icy gateway to ultimate pleasure beckons in Kathleen Bradean’s carnal, unforgettable “Chill.” “Welcome Home” by Shakir Rashaan features two curvy, obedient slaves who adoringly serve as living toys for their Sir. Using a silk flogger, a dom teaches his feisty sub to orgasm on command in Teresa Noelle Roberts’s “The Power of No.” Finally, in Teresa Lamai’s “Small Windows,” a helpless damsel descends into dark debauchery when her master binds, gags, and films her as she’s taken by another woman.
Dominance and submission. Sin and seduction. Indulgence and decadence. By comparison, all other desire just feels…vanilla. Tumble down the rabbit hole. Fall in, and never climb out…
Alex Algren
Oakland, California
ALL IN A DAY’S WORK
Saskia Walker
Faye toyed with two sets of handcuffs while she considered how best to handle the current situation. She was with an attractive merchant banker who was begging to be broken in. Faye—who was known as Faye the Bountiful amongst her closest friends—savored the anticipation. George, the merchant banker, watched her toy with the handcuffs with an eager look in his eye, waiting for her to take action. George didn’t know what he was in for.
Her body simmered with arousal as she paced back and forth in front of him, eyeing him all the while. This was too much fun. The soft creak of her tight leather jeans and the click of her boot heels on the marble floor were the only sounds in the room. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of George’s city office, and she basked in it. These were the corridors of power, and the fact that she was there at all was quite a kick. As yet, she hadn’t even used her magic on him, and his attention was all hers. George was an influential man, and if she hadn’t been Faye the Bountiful her mind might have been moving in an altogether different direction, a more selfish one. But there was more to this than met the eye. Faye the Bountiful was a mischievous sort, and the situation compelled her to act in an unexpected way.
“Faye, please.” George stared down at the handcuffs she had dangling from her hand, and swallowed. Tension was evident in his voice and posture. He was as taut as an arrow about to fly from its bow. The bulge at his groin was impressive.
“Patience, George.” She gave him a quick smile. Having him at her mercy was intoxicating for them both, and there was a built-in thrill to getting him all hot and bothered during his lunch break, right there on his imported mahogany desk. “You know that it’ll be worth the wait, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, you’re worth it, but you’re making me crazy here.” He gave a low chuckle. “You goth women sure know how to make a man hard.”
If he thought that was her secret, he was in for a big surprise.
His chest seemed to give a little tremor, right before her eyes. He was fit like an athlete with lean, toned muscles—the sort of man who worked out every morning.
“We wouldn’t want to make you crazy, not when you have so many important things you have to do this afternoon.”
What next? she mused. The belt on his expensive Yves Saint Laurent trousers was already hanging open. Faye had undone it. She had also removed his jacket, shirt and tie. She could strap him to his expensive flight-commander leather chair, tie him up against the marble pillar or splay him on the antique imported rug in front of the bookshelves.
He made a sound, something between a whimper and a bleat.
She closed on him, wrapped one hand around his neck and kissed him, briefly. Then she lifted the papers from his desk, clearing them onto the adjoining computer table. With one fingernail, she tapped the surface of the desk.
George stepped closer to it. She circled him and then backed him against the edge of the desk. “Sit,” she instructed.
He did so, and she rested one hand against his bare chest, easing him down. Then she lifted his hands in hers, pulling them over his head toward the opposite corner of the desk. Putting a cuff on each wrist, she secured both sets by dangling them down around the leg of the desk and then locking him in place. Returning to the other end of the desk, she stared down at him. His cock was pushing up beneath the zipper on his pants, the coins of his nipples tight and hard. Admiring the view, Faye smiled and nodded, letting him know that she approved of what she saw.
George cursed, his body arching up against the hard surface beneath him. He really got off on being dominated by women, and that fact fed into her awareness in the most delicious way, empowering her, making her instinctive magic flare. Right from the moment he’d brought her back to his office, walking her past his staff, she’d been on to the subtle underplay here. That atmosphere outside George’s office was alive with interest, and Faye absorbed it all, quickly homing in on the true nature of the setup. “It’s your lucky day, George,” she’d said as she locked the door behind them and took charge of him, right there in his prestigious city offices. George had swallowed and nodded. He didn’t know the half of it.
Allowing herself a couple of minutes to be sure she had the lay of the land, she determined her plan. Reaching for his button and the zipper on his trousers, she undid them slowly, watching as he urged her on with a pleading expression. Inside his trousers, his cock pushed against the soft white cotton of his jockey shorts. When she rested her hand over it, George groaned. The muscles in his arms tightened and he jerked at the restraints halfheartedly.
Easing down his jockey shorts, she let his cock bounce free. It was fully engorged and tapped eagerly against his rock-hard abs. “Poor George, you really want to come, don’t you?”
His head turned to one side against the desk, his eyebrows lowering as he stared across his office at the door. “Yes.”
The way he looked in that moment confirmed her feelings. She smiled to herself and clambered over him, kneeling on the desk, squeezing his thighs together with her knees. As she ran one finger up and down his breastbone, his cock twitched, his nice tight stomach tightening again before her eyes. Tension oozed from his every pore, and he stared at her with hungry eyes. Kneeling up at full stretch, she moved her hips in a slow circle
, her leather jeans creaking as she did so. For her, the thrill was in sussing out what he really wanted. Outside his office, his staff speculated from desk to desk about what was going on in here. That was a big part of it for him. He’d made a show of bringing her in here, locking the door and asking not to be disturbed. Faye had also seen the way his secretary looked—crestfallen, to say the least—and she knew the speculation was running riot out there, and she was pretty sure that’s what got him off.
“You trust me, don’t you George?”
“You know that. I couldn’t do this if I didn’t.” He paused, took a deep breath. “We agreed when we met, trust is important.”
“Do you trust me to give you exactly what you want?” What he thought he wanted was to be bound and pleasured while everyone outside wondered what the hell was going on. There was more to it than that, and she’d figured it out. “Do you believe I know what’s best for you right now?”
His eyes flickered shut. Resistance was there, but after several long moments, he spoke. “Yes, I believe you probably do.”
That was all that she needed to know.
“In that case, I’m going to give you what you really, really want.” She stroked his jaw, bent over him and kissed his mouth softly good-bye.
Then she climbed off him and walked away. When she reached the door, she heard him whisper her name in a querying tone. She turned on her heel and looked back over her shoulder, arching one eyebrow at him. “You told me you trusted me.”
He could easily have requested her not to leave his side. But he didn’t. His body grew visibly tense, his cock jerking up against his abdomen. This was making him harder still. She restrained her smile.
“I do trust you,” he whispered.
“Good.”
Unlocking the door, she opened it and peeped out into the outer office. His secretary’s desk was in a recessed bay four feet away, and she was staring right at Faye, wide eyed. Faye was willing to bet the poor woman never took her eyes off George’s door when he was in there.
The open-plan office beyond the immediate area was busy and humming with noise. No one else seemed to have noticed the door was opening. It was too soon. Faye emerged as discreetly as she could.
The secretary lowered the pen she had been gnawing on as Faye approached.
Faye put her hands flat to the desk and leaned in close. “George is in there, half naked, and handcuffed to the desk. I’m leaving now.”
The secretary’s eyes rounded and her lips parted, her glance going back to the door. Despite the perfect cover of her immaculate makeup, color stained the secretary’s cheeks.
Oh, yes, thought Faye, she’d been right about this one. The secretary was in her early thirties, and although she was pretty—with just the sort of blue-black hair her boss seemed to like—she dressed a mite too sedately for her own good. And she had a major crush on George.
“You have two options,” Faye whispered.
Interest flared in the woman’s eyes.
“You can go in there, make a fuss, and draw the attention of everyone in this room. He’ll never live it down, and in all likelihood you will lose your job at some point not too long after today.”
The secretary swallowed. “I wouldn’t want that to happen.”
“Of course not. However, you have a second option. I saw the way you looked at him, and—believe me—he is interested in you, too.”
The secretary’s pupils dilated.
“So your other option is to go in there quietly and lock the door behind you. Take charge of him, sexually. Believe me, he’ll love it. He’d also love it if in future you dressed in black…you know, do the sexy power-dressing thing.” Faye waggled her eyebrows and then reached into her hip pocket, fishing out the keys for the handcuffs. She put them on the desk. “You’ll need these. I recommend you don’t take the cuffs off until after you make him come.”
The secretary looked down at the keys, glanced at the door to the office, and then looked back at Faye. “I don’t know if I can,” she murmured. “I mean, I knew you…” She paused. “But I don’t know if I have the nerve.”
“Of course you do. I bet you’ve thought about doing it, haven’t you?”
“Oh, yes, especially once I knew George was into… that.” The color on her cheekbones darkened.
“Just keep your chin up, and take charge.” Faye ran her fingers over the back of the woman’s hand, infusing her with enough erotic magic to empower her, ensuring that the secretary would take action on her secret desires. “I guarantee you’ll find it very rewarding.” Faye winked. “You’ll have him eating out of your palm before your afternoon tea break, believe me. You might even get a raise.”
The secretary nodded, one hand pressed to her collarbone to quell her excitement as she looked at the door to George’s office, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Her job done, Faye straightened her leather jacket and headed off. By the time she’d weaved her way across the open-plan office and pressed the call button for the elevator, the secretary was tentatively walking into George’s office. Faye watched until she closed the door behind her, firmly. It stayed shut.
As she stepped into the mirrored elevator, Faye was pleased to find she was on her own. As the doors closed behind her, she let out a deep sigh, and her magic shimmered around her. In the mirror facing her she could see her aura gleam purple, filled with mischief and sexual power. Lowering her hand to her groin, she clasped the mound of her pussy through her leather jeans and squeezed hard, rocking into her hand, seeking her own relief.
Well, she had to grab the chance while she could; her job was an arousing one.
Closing her eyes, she spirited herself back to George’s office, peeping in on her erotic matchmaking—just to ensure it was on the right track and that she wasn’t needed to push this thing along any more. When her spirit fluttered into the room—invisible to the human eye but for a purple wisp of light—she found George’s secretary standing by his desk, one hand running down his chest until she reached his upright cock. George’s mouth moved and the head of his cock darkened. A moment later, the secretary hitched her skirt up around her hips, dropped her panties to the floor and clambered onto the desk, mounting him eagerly.
If Faye had any doubts about her instinct on this one, they vanished in that moment. She chuckled gleefully to herself and watched a moment longer—long enough to see the secretary sinking gratefully onto George’s erection; long enough to see George arch up from the desk to meet her; long enough to see the secretary throwing her head back with joy as she impaled herself on his shaft, and long enough to make herself come. Her hips rolled and a sweet orgasm blossomed inside her.
The elevator pinged.
Donning her sunglasses, Faye breathed in her purple aura just as the elevator doors slid open, and stepped out into the busy foyer. A moment later she walked out onto the city street and passed through the crowds, eyeing the people, looking for the next lucky person who might need a dose of her mischievous erotic magic.
It was all in a day’s work for this particular fairy godmother.
UNDERCOVER
Ily Goyanes
The red vacancy sign kept blinking, annoying the hell out of me. I wasn’t sure how this was going to turn out, it being my first time and all. To be honest, I was creeped out by the whole thing, though I’d shoot a hole through my foot before admitting it to the other dicks. A lesbian rookie vice detective going undercover as a hooker…who woulda thunk? I had to admit though; I felt sorrier for Rick. The only other rookie detective in the department was doing his undercover in drag, three blocks away.
My mom had been a cop, too. A detective actually, homicide. Detective Liliana Garcia, the first Hispanic female to make detective in the Miami-Dade Police Department. She was the one who instilled in me the need to go after real criminals, the murderers, the child molesters, the rapists. And the politicians, of course. Mami would tell me how much time the MDPD wasted going after poor schlubs who committed victimless
crimes like smoking a joint or giving a $20 blow job, only to have gangbangers roaming the streets, free to rape, steal and kill. But there I was, ready to bust some lonely, sex-deprived john who had to pay someone to keep him company. Who was the schlub now, Mom?
The drizzle was tapering off and I was grateful. I had been standing on the street corner for forty-five minutes in a miniskirt and halter-top, and even my bones were cold. The brass had decided the sting should go down in December, of all months, the only month the temperature in Miami drops below sixty. As I bounced up and down to keep myself warm, I hoped that whomever I ended up arresting wasn’t married with children. If he was, I’d beat myself up over it all night, even with a bottle of scotch for comfort.
A car pulled up to the curb a few feet away from me. It was one of those luxury jobbies, all bright and shiny. I put on my best ‘straight’ pose, the one that didn’t make me look like I’d puke from kissing a guy. The car slowly approached and the tinted window on the passenger side lowered. Well, this is it, kid, make-it-or-break-it time.
I sauntered over, or at least what I thought sauntering might look like, and almost tripped in my heels. The only time I wore such instruments of torture was for weddings or funerals. I tried leaning into the car sexily and almost fell.
There was a woman sitting in the driver’s seat. Oh, boy. She was about ten years older than me, and lord, was she a looker. I thought she might have been lost, until she spoke.
“Are you averse to offering your services to someone of your own sex?” She had long, natural red hair, bright green eyes and tits so big, they almost touched the steering wheel.
“Most definitely not.” Oops. I think I may have answered that out of character.
“I would like to take you to a hotel. For the night, if possible.”
“What did you have in mind?” I tried real hard to get back into cop/hooker mode.
