by D. L. King
Kendra pulls back, a smirk forming on her lips. “Does that mean you liked it?”
“It hurt so fucking much,” Jess pants. “I loved it.”
“Then let me try again.” Kendra grasps two more hairs and pulls them out simultaneously. The rest of the hairs are spaced too far apart to repeat the trick, but Kendra has an idea—something she’s never tried before with anyone, though she’s read enough erotic romance to know some people are into this. Given Jess’s response to pain so far, it’s worth a try.
Kendra continues to hold the skin of Jess’s breast taut between her thumb and forefinger, but now curls her other three fingers under so Jess’s nipple is caught between the back of Kendra’s middle and ring fingers. As Kendra yanks out the next hair, she squeezes the curled fingers together to give Jess’s nipple a sharp tweak.
Jess’s groan rumbles straight into Kendra’s belly. “Good?” Kendra says, although she knows the answer already.
“So good. I had no idea—” Whatever Jess was about to say gets broken off by another moan. Jess crosses her legs, the muscles in her thighs going tense as Kendra moves on to the last hair. “I’m so turned on right now.”
“You want me to fuck you when we’re done?”
“Yes. I also want this to never be done.”
Kendra pulls out the final hair, then pinches both of Jess’s nipples hard. “It doesn’t have to be.” She guides Jess so that her ass is flush with the bathroom counter. Jess gets the hint. She lifts herself onto the tiles, letting her legs fall open while Kendra drops knees-first to the floor.
“Take off your shirt so I can feel you,” Jess says.
Kendra licks a stripe up the center of Jess’s spread labia. “That’s not feeling enough?” she teases.
“Never.”
Kendra pulls her shirt off over her head and tosses it to the floor, but she’s too eager to eat Jess to bother with her jeans. Those stay on, the center seam applying a pleasant pressure on Kendra’s cunt as she sinks her mouth back into Jess’s folds.
Kendra’s hand crawls up to pinch Jess’s nipple.
“Oh god!” Jess’s cry ricochets against the bathroom walls, urging Kendra on. Kendra licks deeper into Jess, her chin already drenched in juice, her nostrils filled with Jess’s scent. She probes her tongue into Jess’s hungry cunt and gives another hard squeeze.
“Fuck!” Jess’s thighs quiver, her calves swinging back and forth like windshield wipers over Kendra’s back as her excitement mounts. She seems just a hair’s breadth away from orgasm.
Kendra draws her tongue to Jess’s clit, licking tight circles around it as she works two fingers into Jess’s wet cunt and then curls the fingertips against the spot that always makes Jess fall apart.
With the other hand, she twists Jess’s nipple halfway around until left is right and top is bottom.
Jess doesn’t cry out. She stops making any sound at all. She holds her breath as her back arches violently and her thighs shake, then suddenly go rigid. Her cunt pulses around Kendra’s fingers, pushing juice out onto her waiting tongue. It always tastes slightly different when Jess is coming—more watery but also somehow headier.
Jess gasps, her spine collapsing toward the counter. She pulls Kendra up from between her thighs. “Now take off your jeans, baby. I’m not done with you yet.”
They move to the bedroom. Kendra’s clothes come off and Jess works one end of their double dildo into Kendra’s waiting cunt.
“Can I try something?” Kendra is overcome by a sudden urge to test the extent of Jess’s desire for pain.
Jess hovers over her, her hair falling around Kendra’s face, shutting out the world around them. “Surprise me.”
Kendra pulls Jess closer. Jess is ticklish right beneath her earlobe, and Kendra wonders—
She bites down on the skin.
“Oh!” Jess twists the dildo inside Kendra’s body.
“Is that a ‘do that again,’ or ‘never do that again’?”
“Definitely ‘do that again.’ But not until I get the harness on you. I need you to fuck me, babe.”
Kendra chuckles. “You’re insatiable.”
“That’s why you love me.”
“Harder, harder, please, harder.” Jess is on her knees, her back against Kendra’s chest, her hands white-knuckling the headboard, and she’s begging in the way that Kendra loves, even if Kendra’s not sure what needs to be harder: the fucking, or the squeeze around Jess’s nipples, or the bite of Kendra’s teeth into her skin.
So Kendra goes for all three. She thrusts her hips hard and fast against Jess’s ass, feels the tight pull of Jess’s cunt on the dildo; pinches and twists Jess’s proud nipples; bites into Jess’s shoulders until her teeth leave purple marks in the skin.
“Jesus fuck, I’ve needed this for so long, Kendra, wanted—” Her words devolve into a sharp cry.
“For how long?” Kendra says, wrenching Jess’s nipples in the other direction. Jess lets out another bark.
“Feels like forever, except I didn’t know, like it was in me but I didn’t know its name and—oh Kendra god yes that,” Jess hisses in response to Kendra’s teeth on her earlobe.
Kendra fucks Jess frantically; the inner end of the dildo slams against Kendra’s cervix with each thrust. She feels herself turning into jelly, knows she’s going to come soon if she doesn’t slow down. Jess can come a million times, but Kendra’s almost always done after one or two, and she can feel already that the approaching one is going to be a game-ender, hitting her so hard she won’t be able to move beyond it to the next crest.
Kendra slips her right hand between the harness and her skin to hold her end of the dildo still while the other end continues to hammer Jess. It’s an awkward position, making it impossible to squeeze both of Jess’s nipples at once. She almost loses her balance when she tries to put her fingers on Jess’s other breast.
“Here, baby, I’ll take care of it.” Jess plants her head into the pillows to take the weight of her upper body and squeezes her own fingers around her nipples. “Just focus on fucking me.”
So Kendra does—at least at first. She pounds the strap-on into Jess, thrusting her deeper into the pillows. She makes up for her inability to twist Jess’s nipples by biting hard at the base of Jess’s neck like a cat in heat.
But even with holding the strap-on, she’s too close to coming. Impulsively, she does the only thing she can think of to stop the wave of pleasure from cresting: she uses her free hand to grapple at her own tit, twisting its tip suddenly, mercilessly, until the pain is so intense she can barely feel anything else.
“Oh fuck, baby,” Jess cries, her hips swaying over the silicone dick, making it twist inside Kendra despite her best efforts. And suddenly the pain pounding through Kendra’s breast becomes hot and exhilarating. It sears Kendra to her core.
Kendra lets go of the dildo and she thrusts forward, letting it rebound inside her as she plunges into Jess. She squeezes and twists both of her own areolas as the toy slams against her cervix.
Jess mutters a string of curses and encouragements.
“You ready to come again, Jess?” Kendra pants.
“Yes, baby. Make me come.”
Blood rushes back painfully into Kendra’s nipples when she lets go. It’s just enough discomfort to keep her aware of her surroundings and focused on Jess’s rising orgasm instead of her own. She skates her hands around Jess’s torso, sliding them under Jess’s hands to cup her breasts and clamp down on the swollen areolas.
“Come for me,” Kendra growls, nipping at Jess’s ear. “Now.”
Jess cries out and fucks herself on the toy with relentless force. Her earlier orgasm was quiet and still. This one is ear shattering. Jess’s shout rips through the air and makes the glass in the ceiling lamp ring. Kendra’s isn’t much quieter. Pleasure radiates out from her cervix in steady waves. She can’t remember ever coming so hard before.
They’re both too sensitive to keep the dildo inside of them when they’re d
one. Jess uses her pelvic muscles to push her end out and helps Kendra undo the harness. They throw the entire contraption on the floor to deal with later, forgetting about it as soon as it’s out of sight. Jess pulls Kendra close, their sweaty breasts mashed together. The air is redolent with the smell of sex. Kendra loves it.
“That was a nice new discovery,” she says. “How long have you been keeping that secret?”
Jess sighs into Kendra’s neck. “Honestly, I didn’t realize I was. I mean, I always knew I got an endorphin rush from waxing and tweezing, and sometimes I got a little turned on. But I didn’t know if the turn-on was the pain or the smooth skin.”
“And now you know?”
Jess nods and the tip of her nose rubs against Kendra’s skin. “There’s something empowering about feeling pain and knowing that it won’t actually hurt you.”
“Huh. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Kendra looks down at Jess’s swollen areola. “Too bad hair only grows so fast. It’ll be a while until I can tweeze you again.”
“Yes, but . . . ” Jess says, circling the pad of her index finger softly over Kendra’s irritated nipple, “we could make room in this month’s budget for a pair of nipple clamps.”
“Or maybe,” Kendra says, wincing at the touch, “we should invest in two.”
BAUBLES AND BEADS
Sacchi Green
Garish pink, purple, and green fingers of light from the midway groped between the buildings all the way to the horse barns. Some of the fair’s rides and hucksters kept on as long as cash still smoldered in the pockets of the farm boys, but Carla shut down her balloon-dart concession at the official closing time. She could’ve handled the lingering customers by herself, most of them on the leering side of friendly and the slurring side of drunk, but my looming six-foot-two of crop-haired farm girl didn’t hurt. We rolled down the canvas, secured it, and slipped away into the shadows.
Lights just as garish had seeped through skimpy curtains from the neon sign outside her motel room last night. I’d scarcely noticed, obsessed with Carla herself, the black-haired, blue-eyed, bad girl of my dreams.
She’d bound me to the bedposts with strings of flashy Mardi Gras beads, my prizes from her game, and challenged me NOT to break them no matter what she did. I’d almost managed it. And learned, first, how it felt to give up, give in, abandon my strength, my will, all the armor built up over the years. In the beginning I’d had to struggle not to strain against apparently flimsy bonds, but the more Carla forced pleasure into pain and pain into pleasure, the more both willpower and reflexes faded away. I floated somewhere beyond thought, drowning in pure sensation. When she tipped me over at last into a thrashing orgasm I must have broken those strands of beads, but it was a long time before I noticed them sprawled limply across the bed, and longer still before I saw that they were strung on strong nylon thread, knotted between each bead, every strand only broken at a single point.
So the second thing I learned, the most important, was not to assume that just because something looks flashy and cheap it must be flimsy.
It was my first time exploring the darker pleasures of sex, at least with someone who knew what she was doing. In grad school, studying veterinary medicine, my friends and I had plenty of access to barns, and ropes, and dim spaces deserted at night. I’d been invited to some secret sessions where we played, or rather played at being players, but it was strictly amateur night. Mostly clumsy flogging, and the occasional cracking of a whip, but no real sex to speak of. I’d known how to crack a whip without touching my horses’ glossy hides since I was half grown, and could control my two-ton draft team with no tools but my voice and muscles, so floundering around in a hayloft with whips and floggers just seemed silly. So did the girls who couldn’t take even a fraction of what I could have delivered—or give me a fraction of what I didn’t even know I needed.
I still didn’t pass up any chances to learn my way around women’s bodies, including my own, and had a fine time of it, but Carla . . . well, “hot” didn’t begin to cover the vibes she gave off. Something in the way she moved, and the way she played to the guys ogling her in her booth, wisecracking with sultry innuendos that didn’t actually promise them anything. They never caught on when she got to bantering with me and really did promise more than I could imagine. Even my muscle-bound teenaged brothers had no clue what I was up to. They’d finally given up on hovering within range of her seductive aura when I gave them extra money and told them I’d seen a swarm of girls from their high school on the prowl over by the Tilt-A-Whirl.
In a lull while her customers’ attention turned to a dramatic scene between a guy and the girlfriend who dragged him away, Carla let me know that big dumb farm boys weren’t her type, but a big farm girl—no “dumb” implied—might be right up her alley.
My wrists and ankles were still raw. My tenderer parts ached when I remembered the keen torments and even keener pleasures she’d put me through. But later, after I’d demonstrated my own grasp of the basics—and of her tender parts—and taken possession of the shiny beads, Carla had offered to meet me again tonight on my own ground to face any challenge I set, even if it meant getting up close and personal with horses that looked to her “big as elephants and twice as mean!”
Whatever I thought I’d known about women, Carla was a whole different story. A story turning out to be more complicated than I’d bargained for, but worth every bit of whatever it took. Last night she’d taught me more about myself than I’d ever faced up to before; tonight it was my turn to challenge Carla. Maybe even teach her a thing or two. And find out more about myself.
The horse barns faced east, away from the chaos of the midway and the crowds. I’d signed up for the over-night security shift, so once the guy on evening duty saw me coming, waved, and took off, there was nobody else around. There’d sure better not be.
A full moon was rising. Carla gazed up at it for a minute or two while I reached around from behind and fondled her sweet round breasts. A warm late-summer breeze raised tendrils of her hair to brush against my cheek. Moonlight intensified the hint of mystery I’d already sensed about her even in the glare of neon, an impression of layer upon hidden layer. I hoped for a chance to explore them all.
“Autumn’s almost here,” I murmured. “Plenty more fairs coming up. I’ll be bringing my team to half a dozen or so. You’ll be at Fryburg in Maine?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged and stepped out of my embrace. “But bring on your challenge now, Ree.”
She knew it would be about the horses. Yesterday, when I’d led my team out of the pulling ring and over to meet her, she couldn’t hide her terror. Molly and Stark, great black Percherons, two thousand pounds each with hooves the size of pie plates. Any city girl would be scared. I’d backed the pair off, told her I’d meet her at ten at her carnival booth and moved on toward the barns, surprised at how much that lapse in Carla’s femme-top self-possession excited me. A chink in her armor.
Now I leaned against the open barn door. “First, find out where I hid the beads.”
Carla relaxed, back in her own territory. “Let’s see. Maybe here?” She probed the pockets of my shirt, managing even through the flannel to tweak nipples still sore from her clamps last night. Then she reached up under the shirt to squeeze my heavy breasts, sending lightning strikes deep into my cunt. I tried hard to control my breathing. “Or here?” She worked her hands into the front pockets of my jeans, finding the same tube of horse lube I’d used with her last night, then the rear pockets, with more squeezing. My hips began to shift. The look on my face must have given me away. Or maybe the catch in my breath.
“Aha.” Her fingers went between my legs to knead the thick seam of my jeans into my crotch. “Are these beads in your pants, or are you just glad to see me?”
I could barely get any words out. “See . . . for yourself!” She wriggled a hand down inside belt, jeans, and briefs, found what she was looking for, and began sliding the strands through my slippery heat. I n
early lost it. One of those strands had been nestled even deeper the night before last, when I’d been supposed to be resting up before the final round of the draft horse competition, but could think only of her. Tonight the beads had been driving me wild for half an hour. Was I really so set on being in charge tonight?
I gritted my teeth and yanked her hand, clutching its wet ruby and peacock-green prizes, out into the night air. I’d retied them securely after breaking them last night. Even in the dim light from a single bulb inside the barn they glowed like a Rajah’s treasure. Or . . . what was the right term? A Ranee’s?
“Mmm.” Carla ran them across her tongue before draping the strands around her neck so that they swayed across her breasts.
I drew a shuddering breath and turned away. “Now find the other two strands.” I stepped into the barn. Carla hesitated, then, very slowly, followed.
Molly, in a roomy box stall just inside the entrance, leaned her great black head over the gate and whuffled a greeting. Her brother Stark, just across the way, merely dozed on.
“Molly, this is Carla. Carla, Molly.” Molly lowered her nose politely to be petted. Carla jerked back, braced herself, then raised a tense hand. I knew her fear of the horses wouldn’t last long, but it might at least soften her up a bit.
“Hello, Molly.” Her voice wavered. The black nose dipped lower, snuffling at the green and ruby beads on Carla’s chest and then at her hands. Carla jerked back again, then suddenly laughed. “You’re smelling Ree on me! I guess that makes us all pals.” She stroked the velvety nose tentatively. “And you’re wearing beads, too!” The gleaming strands twined through the mane on either side of Molly’s neck, the golden on the right and the purple on the left.
“You’ll have to climb on the gate to reach them,” I pointed out.
She shot me a dirty look, mounted the lower bars, and reached across and upward. Even then, if Molly hadn’t been nuzzling her shoulder, the beads would have been too high for her to reach.
The first strand came loose easily. Carla climbed down, dangled it in front of me, then let it go when I gripped her wrist too hard for comfort. Yes, I definitely did want to be in charge, now that she had to meet my challenge. More was at stake than a tumble in the hay. Carla’s chin went up almost imperceptibly—and then she lowered it, turned, and climbed back up on Molly’s other side. Molly bent her head again cooperatively, but I gave a low whistle and she moved backward so that Carla couldn’t reach no matter how far she tried to stretch.
