by Alex Algren
WELCOME HOME
Shakir Rashaan
Yes, my Master, you want me to wear the heels and the black lingerie and you want Roni to wear the corset and heels. I should make sure that we both have our collars on.” My Layla repeated the instructions that I had given to her over the phone. “You want us on our knees, in our kneeling positions, in the dungeon area.”
“Yes, darling, that is correct. I should be home within the hour,” I told her, as I was waiting for my plane to begin its final descent. It had been a week while I was out of town on business, and I missed both my beloved, Layla, and our submissive, Roni, terribly.
Once the plane landed, I made my way to pick up my luggage. I began to allow my mind to wander over the possibilities that the night would hold.
Layla, my beloved, is about five eight and full figured, with a beautiful light caramel skin tone and long brown hair. She isn’t top heavy, but what gets attention is her hips and ass, which can fill out a pair of jeans like nobody’s business. Her ass is the type that, as a friend of mine put it, “you can sit a drink on and not worry about it spilling.”
Roni, our submissive, is no real slouch herself, either. At five five, her legs and ass are her best features, and I take pleasure in showing them off to whoever wants to see them at any time and any place. She’s caramel skinned, her hair cropped and styled, with big brown eyes and a little smaller than Layla. But then again, I’m a big man myself, so there’s not much that a petite girl can do for me but introduce me to her thicker girlfriend. I’m sorry, but bones do hurt.
On the drive home from the airport, I reminisced about the last time we’d had the chance to have a night like this. We all acted as if sex was nothing more than a reckless activity, using every room in the house (and even a few discreet and not so discreet areas outside the house as well) before we were done for the evening. But this time I had planned for a more sensual, more erotic evening, especially since I hadn’t really had the chance to use my floggers and pinwheels on my girls in a while. Damn, I was getting hard just thinking about it.
I tried not to make much noise once I got through the front door, but the chirp of the alarm system that signaled my entry into the house betrayed me. “I’m home, girls,” I called out.
“We’re in the basement, Master,” I heard Roni reply.
I went into the office to put my cases on the desk, taking a moment to realize that I was actually home, and then went to check on the girls to see what they were up to.
I found them on the air mattress in the middle of the basement floor, both in their kneeling positions, eyes closed and heads bowed down, as if they were both in trances. They both had their hands clasped behind their backs, and wore the outfits I had requested they wear for me tonight.
Needless to say, it was a beautiful sight to behold.
“Come to me,” I commanded.
“Yes, Master,” they both replied, crawling off the bed and repositioning themselves at my feet.
I immediately brought my beloved to her feet, so that I could give her an “I missed you” welcome-home kiss.
“Were you a good girl while Daddy was away?” I playfully asked Layla.
“Yes, Daddy,” she replied. “Roni did as she was told as well, and was here with me when we needed some attention, just as you specified.”
I looked down at Roni, who by now had begun to untie and remove my shoes and was proceeding to unbuckle my belt to remove my pants.
“I see you missed me as well, little one?” I asked Roni as I lifted her chin up so she could look at me.
Roni nodded, never even slowing down at her task. Layla began removing my shirt and tie, in hopes that, at least my guess was, I wouldn’t stop them from getting the night started earlier than I wanted to.
My body began to betray me. Hell, it had been a week since I’d had sex with either of them. I don’t engage in any sexual play unless my girls are with me when I’m on business, even if it is a Dominant’s prerogative to do so if he chooses. No matter what my plans were, they were about to be altered just a little bit.
They both had me completely naked in no time, as Roni began to nuzzle her lips against my shaft. Layla did not disappoint either, gently biting and sucking on my nipples, while coaxing Roni to begin performing her expert deep-throat skills on me.
Roni had me coming in her mouth before I knew what hit me, and she made sure that she swallowed every drop I had to give her. I let out a loud primal growl as I was coming, which alerted Layla that I was about to take over the whole situation.
I forced Layla to her knees, and ordered Roni into action with the single command, “Spread,” at which she quickly lay on her back on the mattress and spread her legs.
I next issued the command, “Sixty-nine,” and Layla straddled Roni’s face with her pussy lips, sitting on the submissive’s tongue before she dropped her own mouth down over Roni’s pussy.
While they were busy bringing each other exquisite pleasure, I had time to compose myself and focus on what I had originally planned to do. I looked around the basement, checking one wall that housed the glass cases of weaponry that I used for knife play: knives, swords, smaller switchblades and the like. On the opposite wall were the St. Andrew’s cross, floggers, bullwhips and electro-stimulation equipment. I made sure that the wax was in its place, still heating on the bar countertop, before I figured out what I wanted to do first.
I moved to the wall of floggers and picked out my leather floggers to use on them while they were engaged with each other.
I began to slap the flogger against Layla’s ass first, since she was the one on top, increasing the intensity with each stroke across her skin. I heard her moaning while she lapped away at Roni’s juices, which only inspired me to flog her harder to elicit a more audible response. To add to that, I alternated the slaps of the flogger with gentle rakes across her skin with my nails, concentrating on the same area that I’d just struck, knowing that it would give Layla the tingling sensation that would have her coming in no time.
Seeing her ass swaying with the sensations that she was experiencing from both my flogging and Roni’s oral skills, I felt that it wouldn’t take long to stroke her into an intense orgasm. I quickly mounted her while Roni was still eating her, and within a few minutes, everything culminated in the first orgasmic wave that Layla would experience that night.
“Oh, god, I’m coming, I’m coming!” Layla yelled out. “Fuck me harder, please!”
I kept stroking her, feeling Roni’s fingers massaging my balls while I was pumping away at Layla’s swollen pussy. Every so often, I pulled out of Layla’s pussy and slid it into Roni’s mouth, allowing her to taste us both before penetrating Layla again. I finally pulled out a final time so that Roni could work Layla’s clit and cause her to come again.
Surprisingly, I was still hard; not as hard as I was when we first got started, but hard enough for one final climax.
I whispered the command “Sit,” into Layla’s ear, which meant for her to face-sit over Roni, leaving Roni’s pussy and ass exposed. I then took the wax from the countertop and began to drip small trails of it onto her exposed clit.
I heard small muffled moans coming from Roni, but she did not lose her concentration. I asked Layla, “Does she want more? Her body says yes, but I want her to say it.”
Layla was still grinding her juices on Roni’s face when she replied breathlessly, “Yes, Master, she wants more. I feel her nodding her head. Give her more, Master.”
I increased the amount of wax, but kept the same cadence as Roni wiggled and ground her pussy and hips to alert me that she was enjoying every minute of the torture that I was giving her. I used a warm, damp cloth to wipe away the wax that had hardened, but seeing her pussy begging to be fucked, my body finally heeded the call to duty.
Roni was so wet from the wax torture that it was as easy to enter her pussy as it had been to penetrate Layla. I didn’t stay in her pussy too long, however, because I had something special in
mind to bring her to climax.
I commanded Layla to crawl over and retrieve the dildo that she uses with her strap-on harness, and to get it lubed up.
“Beg me to fuck your ass, Roni,” I ordered her. “Tell me how bad you want it in your ass, slut.”
“Please, Master, fuck my ass!” Roni screamed. “It’s yours, Master, it’s all yours!”
While Layla lubed the dildo, I slid a pillow under Roni’s ass and slowly penetrated her anally. I managed to get my entire length inside her, and knowing how much she loves anal sex with either of us, I was certain it would be just the thing to send her over the edge. I began rhythmically stroking her, allowing her to adjust to my girth, until she received the surprise that I had in waiting for her in the form of the dildo that Layla was lubing.
Layla began teasing Roni’s clit with the head of the dildo before inserting it deep into her pussy. Roni’s eyes widened at the unexpected double penetration euphoria that we don’t do very often because it puts her into subspace very quickly.
I adjusted Roni’s hips so that both Layla and I could stroke her without getting in each other’s way. With one hand, Layla was feverishly stroking away at her pussy, and with the other, she was pinching Roni’s nipples hard, causing Roni to scream out loudly for her to do it harder. I kept fucking Roni’s ass, which was so slick it felt like I was fucking her pussy.
“You’re making me come! Oh, god, yes, I’m coming!” Roni screamed out, grabbing Layla’s arm to brace against the intensity of the waves that she was feeling ripple through her body.
I pumped even harder after hearing her coming, feeling my own climax building with each stroke. I pulled out before Roni passed out and took the condom off so that I could come in Layla’s mouth. The feeling was delicious, as I felt her tongue massaging my shaft to prolong the orgasm just that much longer before I pulled out of her mouth.
We all lay on the mattress completely spent, while Layla took some ice for Roni to suck on to help her transition back from her subspace experience. It was definitely a welcome-home night that I wouldn’t soon forget.
THE POWER OF NO
Teresa Noelle Roberts
Don’t come,” Enrique ordered. “Whatever I do to you tonight, you are not to come without permission.”
And then he showed me the rawhide flogger.
I laughed and said, “As if!”
I’d come lying across his lap as he spanked me, my bare mound grinding against his muscled thigh, my ass rising to meet his hand, then falling back so I could press against him. That was glorious pain, warm and rose-pink and not much like pain in the usual sense at all. More like the familiar rough edges of a vigorous fuck, of having my nipples twisted to a delicious ache, of being bent into odd positions until my muscles screamed for mercy and I ignored them because the cock pounding hard and fierce into me was just too intoxicating.
That kind of pain.
Flogging, though, stung, like paper cuts and lemon juice on a much larger scale. Depending on how hard he was inspired to strike, it stung a lot. At least it did with that rawhide flogger. And since I was a new bottom—brash and impatient and inclined to push myself and find out how much I could really take—I’d ended up, on my first encounter with it, with an ass that felt like I’d sat on a red ants’ nest.
It had been fun in a weird way. I’d struggled and shrieked and yelped and begged for mercy that I didn’t really want, at least not enough to use my safeword. When he’d stopped, though, I realized I was dripping wet and as soon as he thrust into me, I’d come, screaming and sobbing and more than a little confused.
But while the flogging was going on, I was in no danger of coming.
Which is why I responded as sarcastically as I did.
I realized almost immediately I’d made a mistake.
Enrique has a great sense of humor. But it’s one thing to laugh with one’s dom and another to laugh at him—and inexperienced though I was, I knew I’d crossed a line, a knowledge confirmed when he chuckled in a melodrama-villain way and said, “Oh, you’re in trouble now!” He pretended to twirl his black moustache, which fortunately wasn’t long enough to twirl. His dark eyes looked amused rather than annoyed—thank goodness for that—but there was something distinctly sadistic in the amusement, like he loved his work with the Spanish Inquisition and was relishing this new, mouthy heretic.
I leaned against the bed and braced myself for pain, rolling my safeword silently on my tongue so it would be ready when I needed it. I hadn’t yet, in our first month of playing, but there was a first time for everything and this seemed likely to be it. I’d goaded him, after all.
“When you’re about to come, say ‘edge,’” he commanded. “I’ll let you know if you may. Now don’t move. I want to see how well you hold position. And don’t come without permission.”
Too nervous to laugh this time—and, I was convinced, too anxious to need to worry about coming—I took a deep breath and waited for my ass to catch fire.
Instead, I felt the flogger glide across the skin of my back, a sensual caress. It didn’t feel like the stiff strands I’d been anticipating, either, but something softer, suede perhaps.
That bastard had switched floggers on me! I itched to turn around and see which he’d chosen. I hadn’t seen even a fraction of Enrique’s toy collection, and curiosity was trying to get the better of me. Those falls felt so velvety as they brushed across my back, making my skin twitch like a cat’s in their wake, sending shivers deep into my core. Maybe they were velvet, or perhaps fur? I wanted to know….
But I couldn’t make myself turn around.
I told myself it was because I didn’t want to spoil whatever game he was playing. I wanted to know, but I certainly didn’t want him to stop, and I risked that if I turned around, since he’d told me to hold still.
That was what I told myself, anyway.
The flogger trailed lower, teasing my ass briefly, then moving to my thighs. It almost tickled, and I fought the urge to squirm and shiver.
But I had to do or say something. Erotic tension was pooling between my legs, swelling my nipples, and I wouldn’t be able to hold still much longer under the gentle tickling. “Please,” I begged. “Please flog me.”
“You want me to flog you? I thought you didn’t like it. You laughed when I suggested you might come from it.”
“Please…” I took a deep breath and in that second managed to organize my thoughts a bit. “I’m not sure I could come from it, but I do like it. And what you’re doing…tickles.” The last word came out on a shriek, because, as if he read my mind, Enrique quivered the flogger on the sensitive skin of my side, making me want to flinch and jump and dance.
But I didn’t.
Enrique noticed. “Good girl,” he said quietly.
I flushed with pride, and then flushed even deeper when I realized I was doing it. “Good girl”—like I was a kid, or a dog, and still it went to my head.
And my pussy. I was wet, I realized, far more wet than I could explain from the bit of playing we’d done so far, and the quiet “Good girl” had a lot more to do with that than I was sure I liked.
And as I was contemplating that, the flogger danced across my ass.
A far softer sensation than the rawhide thongs, it stung and thumped, but almost simultaneously soothed its own sting with a whispering caress.
Oh God, I could get used to this!
I thrust my ass back in invitation.
Then said, “Oh, shit! I’m sorry.”
Enrique ran his hand down the curve of my hip, the line of my flank. “You caught yourself, though. And if you must move, I’d rather see you wriggling in pleasure than trying to squirm away.” Unexpectedly, he smacked my ass with his hand, hard, making me yelp in surprise, but at the same time sending a bolt of fire directly to my clit. “But from now on, hold still.”
Somehow, I managed not to jump.
I was rewarded with another pussy-clenching, “Good girl.”
And then
he turned again to the flogger.
Stinging and thuddy and silken, it teased sensation out of me, making my ass throb deliciously and my pussy throb to its rhythm.
After only a few minutes, I felt swollen, larger than life, and the longer he went on, the more I ached with lust. “Edge,” I hissed through my teeth, knowing all I’d have to do was contract my cunt muscles once, or shift so my slick lips slid over my clit, and I’d be off like a rocket.
“No,” Enrique said, and changed the soft flogger for the more stinging one I’d experienced before. I hadn’t cared for the sensation that first time, but now, aroused almost beyond sanity by the long dance with soft suede, it felt like the erotic equivalent of a hot Thai curry, fierce but delicious.
For the first few strokes, the sharp bites were a welcome respite, arousing, but different enough from the earlier sensation that it was almost as if Enrique had hit an arousal-reset button.
That didn’t last long, though. Soon, I was soaring again, feeling as if my brain and my self-respect had fallen into my wet, greedy pussy and were lost forever.
I needed. Needed Enrique’s cock in me. Needed a sharper jolt of pain. Needed, more than ever, to come. I bit the inside of my cheek, hoping to distract myself, but that bit of pain just fueled the fire.
“Edge. Please.”
“Not yet,” Enrique said, and stepped up the pace of the flogging, striking a bit harder, a bit faster, catching the sensitive flesh of my thighs, the area Enrique called “the sweet spot,” instead of my ass.
“Edge. Please. Edge. Please, please let me come…” From a plea, I made it into a prayer—but once again, I was denied.
And perversely, the denial went straight to my clit, putting me in even worse straits.
My body throbbed, aching to come, or failing that, to dance and squirm under the blows and release a little of the tension coiling inside me. Instead, I counted to twenty in French, and then in Spanish. Then to ten in German, which was all I could remember.
