Best Women's Erotica 2014

by Violet Blue

  She moaned as his fingers left their mark on her skin. The next smack followed almost immediately.

  Jerome pressed his hand against the spot he had just hit, making her feel the heat for as long as possible. He traced the line of her spine down to the crack of her butt, wondering what had happened in the last few minutes. All of a sudden, he couldn’t wait to give her the next blow, and he found his mind figuring out ways to make sure she got the most out of it. He wanted her to secretly beg, or maybe even very openly beg. He needed her to be unable to stay patient much longer, and he wanted the next smack to come as a surprise when it finally hit her.

  But if she was yearning to be spanked again, she didn’t show it. The only sign was her ragged breath, which he could hear emerging from underneath her thick curls. She pulled herself together, surrendering complete control to him.

  He spread her legs a bit farther apart so that he could better feel the dampness of her slim strip of bushy hair. His hand crawled up her inner thighs, then over the part where her butt met her thighs. Now was the moment. He knew it, and he could tell she was literally willing him to spank her.

  His hand whizzed through the air and came down on her left cheek, the pain stinging his open palm the moment it struck her round, curvaceous sweetness. Her moaning grew more intense, and Jerome let a few spanks follow, the first ones hard and fast, the next more gentle, ending in an almost caressing slap. Even in the dim light, he could tell that her ass was burning. He could see the difference in color between her left and her right cheek. The pale, bare virginity of the right one tempted him, but he needed a short interlude, and he knew she did too.

  “Did you like that?” he asked, just to say something, because her whole body gave away just how much he had turned her on.

  She answered with an undefined grunt, then turned around and smiled at him. Her hand wandered to the bulk in his pants, and she started to massage him gently. “I knew you would like it too,” she chuckled. She searched his eyes. “And now that you’ve tasted it, you want more, don’t you?”

  Instead of giving an answer, he pulled her hand away and pressed her against the table with gentle force. “I’m just giving you what you’ve longed for all along,” he whispered and teased her right cheek, grazing it with his fingernails. “And what you deserve.”

  But that wasn’t the full truth. He did want more. And he was looking forward to turning her into putty beneath his hands, to making her right cheek sting as much as her left one. “And you long for more too, don’t you?” he asked.

  She uttered an unwilling groan but got back into position. He was giddy with joy. How had he mastered a game that as recently as an hour ago, he never thought he’d play? What was it about her surrender that tempted him to savor it to the fullest? What was so intoxicating about knowing how much pleasure she derived from something he had thought was only painful?

  She shivered as he took his hand away and for a moment, he kept it raised in the air so that he could enjoy her anticipation for as long as he could curb his own excitement. He placed his other hand on the small of her back, and under it he could feel impatience get the better of her as she squirmed underneath his grip—but only tentatively, never crossing the line to disobedience. He grew cocky now, and instead of giving her the release she craved, he let his fingers trail along her slit, pressing against her clit with tender force.

  “Jerome,” she gasped against the tabletop.

  “Yes?”

  “Do it already.” She wriggled her cheeks.

  “What?”

  “Spank me,” she begged. “Please.”

  He let his hand crash down on her butt, reddening her right cheek with one forceful slap of his open palm. The next blows followed quickly; he delivered whacks on her bare flesh until her cries of ecstasy were muffled by how hard she had to concentrate to absorb the intensity of his final smacks.

  “Enough, baby?” he asked lovingly.

  She nodded, unable to answer as her body hummed in the aftermath of the spanking she had received.

  Jerome massaged his wrist. His cock pressed against his pants, but for a moment, while she brushed damp curls out of her face and regained her breath, he enjoyed just watching her red, swollen bottom. He brushed both cheeks lightly with the back of his hand, proudly taking in the heat. She certainly wouldn’t be forgetting his rough treatment any time soon.

  Next, he began to caress her back, soothing her, calming her down until the quivers that shook her body grew quiet.

  When he felt that she was ready for more, he slowly unbuckled his belt, opened his jeans and sighed with relief. Teasingly, he rubbed the tip of his cock against her wet slit. Diana moaned longingly, and it was nearly impossible for him to keep himself from plunging into her right away and taking her hard.

  Instead, he continued to circle her teasingly while his other hand petted the warm, sore skin of her butt.

  She pushed her bottom back, prompting him to enter her already, but instead of complying, he bent over and parted her curls.

  “Diana?” he whispered into her ear.

  “Hm?” she said, in more of a breathless utterance than a reply.

  Jerome cupped her butt more firmly. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you at rehearsal tomorrow.”

  MONSOON SEASON

  Valerie Alexander

  We met on a hot, windy, dust storm of a night. It was early summer, and my best friend was holding her engagement party at a five-star resort. But a gritty cloud of dust blew into Phoenix that evening and when I arrived, the palm tree fronds were tossing above the hotel and leaves were skittering across the parking lot. My headlights illuminated a boy lounging at the parking valet stand: dark hair pushed back from high cheekbones, a defiant mouth. We looked at each other through my windshield, and then I pulled into a non-valet space.

  I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen him yet. I wanted there to be an obstacle between us, so I could process what felt like a continent breaking apart inside me. Five months earlier my husband had moved out and I said to my best friend then, “Bring on the sex parade. I don’t even want to know their names.” I was unwilling to feel intensely about anyone or anything. But there he was, a spectacle of fuck-puppy lusciousness carving his face into my heart.

  The smell of ozone was sharp as I got out of the car. It was monsoon season in Arizona, when thunderstorms were supposed to be breaking and cleansing the nights, but we were suffering a long drought and this summer had been dry and tense like a rubber band about to snap. The half-storm building tonight was just wind, heat and dust that gave an amber tint to the resort golf course lights. My hair had been straightened and highlighted for this party, and I’d been worried for the last hour about the dust storm ruining it, but now all I could think about was staying steady on my spike heels as I walked toward him.

  He was still leaning coolly against the valet stand, with that impassive poker face boys use in their early twenties to hide their twisted, yearning hungers. I felt inexplicably tongue-tied—confident me, who liked to dominate men in bed until they crawled and begged for my favor, was somehow dismantled by a pretty kid. His jaw was rigid as he put down his cigarette.

  First words should be portentous but ours were I’m here for the Inzer-Trujillo engagement party and It’s in the Saguaro Ballroom, I can show you. By the way, I’m Colton. I took it as a sign that whatever happened between us would be casual and not especially verbal.

  He came over the next night like a proper date. Clean T-shirt on and a bottle of wine in his hands, which I accepted before saying, “I don’t want to open it right now, though.”

  Colton looked disappointed. I couldn’t explain that I needed him sober, needed to know how willing and ready he really was for all the dark magic spells I wanted to unleash on him. Bossing him around, pulling him over my knee and spanking him, slapping his beautiful mouth just before he came. I had no logical reason for thinking he was sexually submissive, or that he’d done anything like that before, but then agai
n, our animal hearts know what they know.

  “Where would you like to go to dinner?” He was formal and polite.

  I leaned back on my enormous black couch. “We can go out later. If we’re hungry.”

  He looked at me with suspicion and uncertainty. I remembered that he was over a decade younger than me and probably nervous. So I patted the sofa and ordered him to sit with enough authority that he instantly obeyed.

  His lean, rangy body felt like my property already. Like it was a time-lapse error that I hadn’t officially fucked him yet. I looked over his dark hair and sun-bronzed cheekbones, his hard tattooed forearms. My hormones careened like drunken fireflies.

  “I’m going to have my way with you now, and you’re going to obey and do everything I say,” I told him. “Understand? If you have any objections, say them now.”

  His body was so stiff. His voice the whisper of an echo as he said, “No objections.”

  I unwrapped him like a present, pants off first, followed by his navy boxer-briefs. His thigh muscles were almost as rigid as his cock. I could guess at the kind of sex he was used to having, the masterful young seducer, suave in his technique and just a little more detached than the girls wanted him to be. Which was why his poker face was so tight with control now as I pulled the front of his T-shirt up and behind his head and then down his back to bind his arms at his sides.

  Now he was porn: the naked and half-bound boy with a hard, scarlet cock. I wanted to take his picture, but we weren’t there yet. Instead I climbed onto his lap and pulled up my dress.

  “Consider this an audition,” was an arrogant thing to say as I pushed my pussy into his face. But his mouth ransacked me with feverish thirst, confirming that just maybe he did like to be bossed around by dominant women. I spread my knees open as his tongue pushed inside me with such energetic desperation that I suspected it would ache later. His arms struggled against the shirt until I rapped his ear in admonition. “None of that,” I said. “Mouth only.”

  His hands clenched helplessly at his sides. I pushed his head back against the sofa and pulled my hood back from my clit. I leaned back just enough to make him work for it, a test of the agility and control of his tongue, and then gripped his hair and rode his face, a dreamy euphoria melting through my cunt. Brief, searing waves broke through me, blotting out the world for a few seconds.

  I fell back on the cushions and caught my breath. His eyes searched my face for a sign of approval. His cock was so hard it looked painful.

  I got up and straightened my dress. “I changed my mind. Let’s get dinner now.”

  Betrayal and incredulity flashed through his eyes. Clearly no one had dared to ignore his hard-on before. But he got up and dressed slowly, as if hoping for a reprieve. I pretended to sort through my faux crocodile bag, an unexpected rejuvenation making me light-headed. It was rare for me to feel truly intoxicated by anyone, let alone find a beautiful submissive boy who was meeting every item on my domme’s wish list. So I was more pleased at our chemistry than I wanted to let on.

  It felt romantic to eat tapas by candlelight in a dark wooden room. Like any two people on a first date, we exchanged details. He had just moved to Arizona, had traveled around a bit. He described his new motorcycle to me for a painfully long time, but on the whole he was more intelligent and composed than I expected. If he was rattled by the twelve years between us or getting topped, he didn’t show it.

  When I came back from the restroom, he was waiting for me with a clever smile. “Look.” He showed me the huge wooden spoon he’d stolen from a bowl of sangria.

  It was an eternity of red lights before we got back to my house. We were barely in my front door when I pushed him against the wall and pulled his jeans down to his knees, liberating his hard dick. I gave him three smacks with the spoon right there, his ass pale in the dark and cool enough to contrast with the flaming print of the spoon. Then it was down to the sofa, him squirming over my knee and groaning like a boy should as I wielded the spoon with one hand and pulled his cock in my other. He was jerking wildly as he struggled not to come. I no longer needed to ask if he had done this with anyone before. Together we were perfect.

  Dark skies gathered over Arizona, the occasional rumbling a tease and a lie. Because I telecommuted and didn’t have to suffer rush-hour traffic, thunderstorms had always been a luxury for me. Watching the oleander shake and glow a preternatural green as sheets of rain obscured the glass felt serene. But the rain wasn’t coming this summer and I paced the house every afternoon, feeling restless. Only when Colton arrived did my nerves settle. Because this was his first summer in Phoenix and the heat tired him out, I kept the house well chilled. I liked giving him baths in cool water, lathering him up and sculpting his dark hair into devil horns.

  “Aren’t you…?” He cleared his throat. “Normally, isn’t it the, uh, sub who grooms the domme?”

  It was cute to hear BDSM lingo come out of his mouth. Even cuter to think of him doing research online to find some framework for what he’d already called an addiction. “Not always. And I like taking care of you. Like you’re my pet.”

  At least I wanted to think of him as my pet. But really Colton was becoming both a muse and something more. I kept dreaming up scenes involving blindfolds, spreader bars, his lean but muscular torso wrapped in chains. I wanted to tie him to my desk and play with him all day long as I worked, wanted to fuck him while he was wearing my underwear.

  “Don’t move.”

  That night I cuffed Colton’s wrists behind his back and went to the kitchen to pour myself a drink. I sipped it when I returned, admiring him in his black thigh-high stockings and dog collar, his mouth taped shut. His cock was hard but he didn’t even twitch.

  I put my drink down and sucked his dick, tight and deep, until he was moaning through the tape. Then I let him drop and retrieved his phone from his pants, snapping a picture.

  “Aw, look at you in black stockings, all handcuffed and gagged with your dick hard,” I said. “Maybe I should send this to everyone in your phone.”

  His face turned the same burning crimson as his cock. I took the phone into my bedroom, letting him hang in the thrilling horror of potential humiliation, though he knew I would never actually send it. When I returned, he rolled onto his back and thrust his cock skyward. He was straining against his cuffs, leaking silvery webs of precome. He looked like he’d been kidnapped, like he was facing execution.

  Suspicion confirmed: exposure was one of his most potent turn-ons. I straddled him, alternately playing with and slapping his hard cock, then rubbed his blood-darkened crown on my clit to the sound of his heartfelt, pleading groans through the tape. I traced his head around my slit, torturing myself and him before sitting on him and feeling his cock push up inside me like a velvet bar. He was squirming and groaning on the carpet now, all discipline lost as I succumbed to the dizzy euphoria of a pussy full of dick. I loved the helplessness and the heat of him bound like this, nothing more than a slave or a pet as I rode him with one hand over his mouth, his dark eyes burning and begging me to let him come.

  “Remember,” I said as we took another bath together the next night, “This isn’t going to go on forever.”

  His wet shoulders tensed. “What does that mean?”

  “It means everything changes.” I kissed his ear, which was the shape and color of a small conch shell. “It means this kind of—voltage—can’t go on indefinitely.”

  Colton didn’t understand the compliment I’d just paid him. His face shifted into a moody pout, which I found heart melting though he didn’t intend it to be such, and he was short with me the rest of the night. But he still slept over and I stayed awake to watch him sprawled on his back, that defiant mouth now in a slight smile. It was best to face the fact that this would end someday soon, I reasoned. Our age difference wasn’t small and now that he knew how much he liked being dominated, he’d want to try it with other women. That’s what I told myself as I watched him sleep.

 
; “A twenty-two-year-old? You can’t be serious.”

  My best friend Renee was disgusted. Not just because she was vanilla, although my femdom tastes bothered her too. But to date a parking valet! One I met the night she held her engagement party! She’d wanted me to date the systems analyst from her fiancé’s office.

  “It’s just sex. I told you I was going to do this after Jack moved out.”

  “You said you were going to play the field,” she said. “But I’m only hearing about this kid.”

  “It’s a summer fling. Not a big deal.”

  Or rather, it was a big deal but a temporary one. It was incontestable that Colton had me under a spell. I dreamt of kissing him until our mouths were feverish and swollen, and then sucking his cock until he came, and rubbing his come all over our mouths until our lips burned. Was that obsessive? Was I losing control? I’d controlled so many men in my time that it was kind of a thrill to succumb to this dizzying, voluptuous ardor that swam through my blood.

  “I don’t even understand how that all works,” Renee went on. “I mean, it’s not very dominant of you to suck him off. You’re giving him control when you do that.”

  I laughed. “If that’s your experience, you’re doing it wrong.”

  One night I went to the hotel and saw Colton in the lobby talking to a brunette a little older than me. She was in a tennis dress and diamond earrings and cultivating him like her personal hired-help fuck toy. And why wouldn’t she? He was delectable. His face was in that dreamy stun of being flattered; he hadn’t seen me yet but I was seeing the Colton who was a mystery to me, the Colton who was attracted to other women.