Unspeakably Erotic

by D. L. King

  Mora looked away, her lips pulled together into her mouth for a second before whispering, “Thank you, Mistress.”

  Camilla had closed the small gap between them to grasp her nipples. Pinching them between her thumb and forefinger, she squeezed and twisted. Mora breathed into the pain and let out a contented sigh.

  Camilla had set the perch at the perfect height for Mora. She could put most of her weight on it while still being spread eagle on the cross. The U-shaped cutout would give Camilla complete access to the other woman’s pussy and ass. That part had been Mora’s suggestion when Camilla had talked about it. Beautiful and brilliant.

  “I’ll keep the ropes simple. So I can get you down faster if I need to.” Camilla wound a purple silk rope around Mora’s right wrist. With each twist, she paused, ran her hand down Mora’s side and up to her breast. With each caress, she paused to tease her nipple into full erection. When she was done with the tie on that side, she switched to Mora’s left and repeated the actions exactly. Knot, caress, twist. Knot, caress, twist.

  Camilla dropped to her haunches to tie Mora’s legs to the cross. She started with her weaker leg and wrapped the rope carefully around the fleshiest part of her calf. Holding the unfastened rope in place, Camilla leaned in and nibbled at Mora’s inner thigh. Traced her tongue along the path up to Mora’s spread-open pussy, but stopped a few inches shy of it.

  “Tease.”

  “Shhhhh. Do you want a ball gag in your mouth today?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  Camilla continued with a slightly more elaborate tie down to Mora’s ankle. Spreading the pressure across the greater part of her leg would prevent swelling and issues from edema. The only part of Mora that looked old was this leg—the sole testament to her stroke three years prior. Her other leg could pass for fifty, easily. Camilla turned her attention to the last limb, continuing with her nibbling, teasing bites.

  Mora moaned, but didn’t speak again.

  Camilla stepped back a few paces to appreciate the simple yet attractive knot-work. “Yes. This will do.” She turned her attention to the small table of toys she’d set out. She chose a set of nipple clamps with a chain between them and held them up as if she were examining them.

  With her back to Mora, she breathed in deeply several times and switched herself into full “Mistress mode.” It took a certain force of will to do what she was going to do with Mora. Mora—the woman she’d loved for fifty years, the woman who had left her for the blonde waiting outside thirty years ago, the woman who had returned to her—finally returned to her!—cancer-ridden, dying, and needing her. She needs me for this.

  She spun around, draping the chain of the nipple clamps over her fingers. “Look what I have for you today.”

  Mora’s eyes were trained on the dangling clamps, watching them sway back and forth in the air, mesmerizing her. Her nipples were already erect in response. Camilla sucked Mora’s nipple into her mouth and swirled her tongue around until it was hard, and then let it pop out, glistening. She held the clamp open over the tip and blew on it as she slowly let the metal bite into the skin.

  Mora sucked in a quick breath between her teeth.

  Camilla slid her hand across Mora’s stomach and down to her pussy. As she expected, her hand came back drenched.

  “Look at you. Hungry little cunt. Dripping wet. Wanting to be fucked.” Some things never change.

  Camilla pushed her coated fingers into Mora’s mouth as she drew the other nipple into her own mouth. She sucked hard, giving miniature head to the hard little nub while Mora sucked her fingers as hungrily as if they were a cock.

  Camilla let the other clamp snap shut. Mora grunted louder and her lower body jerked against the ropes in response.

  Camilla dropped to her knees and spread Mora’s pussy open wide, pushing the fleshy outer lips toward her thighs, until her hole gaped and dripped onto the floor. She pressed the flat of her tongue against the other woman’s clit and held it there until they were the same temperature before lapping at it. Mora groaned and tried to writhe, but the cross and ropes held her still.

  Camilla stopped just before Mora could come. She took the engorged head between her teeth and bit down hard enough to hurt without breaking skin.

  “No. Please don’t stop,” Mora begged. Her head fell back in frustration.

  “Baby, we’re just getting started.”

  Camilla retreated to the tray of toys and chose a flogger with dozens of soft leather tails and a butt plug with eight stops on it, the largest being the size of a large apricot. Camilla kissed her, letting their tongues share the sweet taste of Mora as she slid the butt plug into her pussy. She turned it round and round, getting it covered in Mora’s own slick juices.

  Dropping to her knees, she inserted the first ball of the plug into Mora’s ass.

  “There’s a good girl, keep it in, or you’ll pay.”

  Mora closed her eyes tight and sucked in her lips together. Her let’s concentrate face. Camilla waited until Mora had to peek, to see what was happening, before starting with the flogger. She needed to see that little spark of fearful expectation in Mora’s eyes before she began.

  She flicked the flogger upward, straight onto Mora’s spread pussy. She counted out ten gentle strokes, nothing too hard to begin with. She dropped to lick and suck at Mora’s clit, once again right to the brink of orgasm, pulled back and pushed the plug one more notch into Mora’s ass.

  Mora groaned.

  “What a predictable cunt you are.”

  “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

  “You should be sorry. All I have to do is flog you and shove things up your ass and you’re so very, very happy.”

  “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

  “Shut up. Don’t speak again. I can’t stand to hear your apologies.”

  Camilla flogged, sucked, and upped the plug until the last, large ball was in place and Mora’s sweet little sphincter was closed around the base. Her pussy and upper thighs were bright pink, swelling from the flogging.

  “Well, look at that. You got it all the way in without pushing it out.” Camilla twisted the plug in circles.

  Mora looked at her with wide, pleading eyes, not daring to speak.

  “You want more, don’t you, my precious?” Camilla did not expect a response.

  Camilla turned back to the tray and pulled the Wartenberg wheel out of the glass of ice where it had been chilling for hours. Not wanting it to warm up, she ran the cold spikes between Mora’s breasts, careful of the chain on the nipple clamp. Mora shuddered.

  “Can you feel that?”

  Mora nodded.

  Camilla dropped the wheel back into the ice. Ran her hot tongue along the path of the wheel, licking up a couple of droplets of stray blood. She had pressed harder than intended. She ran the wheel lightly over each thigh, the icy tickling sending shivers across Mora’s skin. Goose bumps covered her body by the time Camilla put the wheel down. Lightly, she ran her fingers along the raised hairs of Mora’s arms, who moaned in response, a low contented happy sound.

  She pressed a large piece of ice into Mora’s dripping cunt and slid it around inside.

  “Are you cold?”

  Mora shook her head as she shivered. “Maybe a little.”

  “Just wait.” Camilla continued with the ice play until it was melted and her own fingers felt nearly frostbitten.

  Camilla lubed up her other hand, closed her fingers in tightly, and slipped her entire fist into the iced cunt with a practiced motion. The temperature differential of her hot fist against the cooled pussy was intense and Mora groaned loudly as Camilla fucked her, moving slowly at first, gaining momentum as Mora’s pussy warmed back up. Her hips writhed against the perch, unable to move very far. Camilla sensed Mora was close to coming and relented. She increased the intensity, twisting her hand so that her thumb banged into Mora’s G-spot with each move.

  Mora keened as she came—a primordial, soulful sound, and gushed, soaking Camilla’s arm to the el
bow.

  “My god, bitch. You really did need release.” She held up her hand to Mora’s mouth. “Clean your come off my cock.”

  Mora did as she was told. Camilla gently stroked Mora’s pussy with her free hand while Mora licked her clean.

  She lifted the nipple chain with a finger until Mora’s breasts were taut and stretched almost to her shoulders. She unclipped them in rapid succession and delighted in their drop and pendulous sway as they settled against Mora’s chest. Mora shuddered, her eyes glassy as she transcended into sub-space.

  For the first time that day, Camilla’s pussy throbbed with desire—a hunger she would have to tend to later. This was about Mora. For Mora. She pulled the plug out of her ass in one fell swoop and wrapped it in a towel for cleaning later. Camilla quickly untied Mora, making sure the other woman didn’t collapse.

  Camilla half-carried, half-walked Mora to the couch. She wrapped her in a thick blanket, encircled her with her arms and legs, holding her close. Mora snuggled in against her, that look of bliss still on her face. She held her until the light outside glowed a rich orange low on the horizon. Their time was almost up.

  The blonde would be waiting, anxious to leave now that she could no longer stay buried in her book. Mora stretched, wakening out of her pain-pleasure-induced stupor.

  “Did you feel it all, Mora?” Camilla kissed her on her ear.

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Was it what you hoped it would be?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Should we do the same next week?” If there is a next week.

  “Yes, Mistress. Please.”

  IN A PINCH

  Janelle Reston

  Their apartment is a shoebox, but it’s what they can afford on their grad school stipends, so Kendra is mostly happy with it even if it means they can’t fit a full couch in the living/dining room that also serves as an office. Kendra half sits, half lies on the loveseat with a big, floppy pillow under her back and her legs bent into upside-down Vs. Her socked feet are planted firmly on the loveseat cushion, but as she turns the next page in Katherine Mansfield’s Collected Stories, she stretches one leg out, propping her calf against the armrest and letting her foot dangle freely in the air.

  She enjoys the feeling of being at her full length, even though she also knows the pressure of the armrest will eventually cut off her circulation and her ankle and foot will go pins-and-needles numb. She hates that sensation.

  She keeps her leg outstretched anyway and keeps reading. The shower running in the bathroom a few feet away serves as the perfect rainy backdrop for the story in which she’s immersed.

  Kendra doesn’t notice when the shower shuts off. The sound of Jess moving around in the bathroom—humming to herself, opening and shutting drawers, picking up and setting down lotion bottles, snapping the towel in the air before hanging it to dry—is just as familiar and soothing.

  That is, until Jess’s voice snaps as sharply as the towel. “Fuck!”

  Kendra jolts up straight. Jess doesn’t swear often outside the bedroom.

  “You okay, Jess?”

  There’s a slight delay before Jess answers. “Um, yeah.” Something metal clinks against the tile counter. Nail clippers? A barrette? “Just . . . grooming. I’m fine.”

  “Okay.” Kendra turns back to her reading, but only gets two sentences further before a stifled hiss seeps through the bathroom door. It’s similar to the sound Jess makes when she waxes her legs, but that can’t be what’s going on in there. Kendra hasn’t heard the distinctive rrrrriiip that the wax-soaked cotton strips always make as Jess pulls them from her skin, like one piece of Velcro pulling away from another.

  The medicine cabinet opens and closes again, followed by a silent pause and another hiss.

  “Jess? Do you need help in there?”

  “I don’t . . . think so. No. No. I’m fine.”

  Kendra tries to accept the answer. Her natural tendency is to run and rescue anyone at the earliest sign of distress, but she’s learned the hard way that’s not always what people want or need. With Jess especially. Jess is an introvert and staunchly independent. Sharing a tiny apartment has forced them to learn how to give each other space when they need it. Jess’s showering ritual is her solitary time.

  Besides, Kendra got most of her caretaking urges out earlier today during her twice-weekly shift at the animal shelter. She buries her nose back in her book.

  A sudden pig-squeal noise makes the hairs in Kendra’s ears stand on end.

  “Okay, I know it’s none of my business, but what are you trying to do in there? Give yourself a tattoo?” It’s a ridiculous question. Jess is one of the most vanilla people Kendra knows when it comes to . . . everything—sex, clothes, body modification. They’ve never gotten any kinkier than using a strap-on. Most of Jess’s clothes are beige or cream. She wouldn’t be caught dead in stilettos, and she doesn’t even have pierced ears. She told Kendra once that she’d thought about getting them when she was twelve, but wimped out. She couldn’t stop worrying about them getting caught on something and ripping her earlobes in half.

  Jess chortles. “No. Definitely not a tattoo.”

  “Well, whatever it is doesn’t sound pleasant.”

  “It’s not, exactly. I wouldn’t call it unpleasant, though.” Jess’s voice starts as singsong, but ends on a low note that she usually reserves for when she’s seducing Kendra.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Jess opens the bathroom door a crack—just enough to let a little of the soap-and-shampoo scent leak into the living room, but not enough that Kendra can actually see inside. “You can come in and watch if you’re that curious.”

  Well. Kendra’s not going to turn down a direct invitation. She sets the book on the loveseat and walks the three steps to the bathroom. She pushes the door open.

  Jess is standing naked in front of the mirror, her wide hips and pendulous breasts on lavish display. Kendra forgets why she’s there. Her eyes flit back and forth between Jess and her reflection; they’re both so sexy.

  It’s muggy like a rainforest in there, though the mirror is no longer fogged. Kendra pushes her sleeves up past her elbows, feels sweat bloom under her arms and in the crotch of her jeans. The wetness makes her think of other kinds of wetness, and soon she’s sidling up behind Jess, her hands around Jess’s hips, admiring the way they look together in the mirror.

  Kendra notices the pair of tweezers in Jess’s hand.

  “You’re plucking? But your eyebrows are perfect already,” Kendra says.

  Jess doesn’t say anything, just smiles knowingly, like she’s privy to some secret.

  “What?”

  Jess’s smile grows wider. Her cheeks flush. “It wasn’t my eyebrows.” She pulls her plump lower lip into her mouth, her top teeth blanching her pink skin. “It was my nipples.”

  Kendra involuntarily curls her fingers into her palms so hard that she can feel her nails etching half-moons into her skin. She’s plucked the hairs around her areolas before and it stings like a bitch—and hers are fine and feathery, not the thick, wiry threads that sprout from Kendra’s skin. “That hurts just to think about,” Kendra says. “You know I like your body just as it is, right?”

  “Yeah. But I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it because it’s . . . interesting.”

  “What do you mean, interesting?”

  Jess half shrugs and turns toward the mirror. She lifts the tweezers to her breast, clasping a thick black hair between its prong tips. She holds the skin taut with her other hand as she tugs, her breath still, her cheeks growing pinker as the hair eases out of her body. She winces as it pulls free, and then gasps. It’s a high, wispy noise, not unlike the ones she makes when Kendra makes that first, gentle lick across Jess’s clitoris when she eats her out.

  The root is white and at least twice as thick as the hair itself. “Damn,” says Kendra. “That must be excru-ciating.”

  “It is. But it’s also . . . intoxi
cating. Here, you try it.” Jess holds the tweezers out for Kendra to take.

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Not on you, silly. On me. Pull one out. I want to know what it feels like when I’m not in control.”

  Kendra scrunches her nose, but she doesn’t see any reason not to comply with the request, even if it’s against her instincts to intentionally cause Jess pain. It’s not like Jess is asking to be injured or maimed.

  Kendra accepts the tweezers.

  Jess closes her eyes as Kendra presses the thumb and forefinger of her left hand to Jess’s breast and uses them to stretch the skin tight. With the tweezers in her right hand, she carefully grips the base of a dark, curly hair on the north pole of Jess’s areola. Kendra draws it out slowly but steadily, feeling the resistance, watching the skin peak like a small hill around the hair’s base until Jess lets out a low hiss and the hair comes free.

  “Again,” Jess whispers.

  Kendra moves on to the next hair, and then the next. Jess’s blush creeps down her throat and across her collarbones. Her nipples grow hard and round as cherry pits. “Another one,” she pleads when Kendra’s reduced the dozen or so hairs around Jess’s right nipple to a handful.

  Kendra goes on until the skin there is bare, then moves to Jess’s left breast. Jess shifts her legs and the scent of her arousal wafts up into the air. She must be very wet for Kendra to be able to smell her so soon after a shower.

  Kendra feels her own arousal grow. It starts in her clit, as solid and dense as a seed, then unfurls in warm tendrils down her mons and up into her cunt until even her cervix feels flushed and needy. She needs Jess between her legs and inside her, and needs to be inside Jess just as much. She longs to slip a finger into Jess’s folds, to bury herself in Jess’s slick heat.

  But she has a job to finish.

  Kendra grasps two neighboring hairs and pulls both at once.

  “Oh fuck!” Jess gasps. Her eyes open. Her pupils are dark and wide. She grabs Kendra and kisses her hard, her teeth sharp against Kendra’s lips, her tongue a force to be reckoned with.