Amber wanted it, and the first time she’d done it, Amber had come with a ferociousness Jade had never seen, while her own arousal had been different than anything that had come before. “I want you to walk up to me at a bar and slap my face, so everyone can see,” Amber had e-mailed her a month ago, and ever since, Jade had been fantasizing about doing just that. Now that she had, she wanted so much more. She wanted someone to help her, but that would have to happen another time. For now it was just the two of them, ready for anything.
“Put your hands above your head,” Jade said, partly to see if Amber would do it, partly to watch her breasts thrust forward with the movement. “Good girl,” she told her. She looked closely at her girlfriend’s beautiful face, so pale, so sensitive. The wind was competing with her hand in coloring her flesh, but Jade didn’t mind. It had taken her a while to get used to the fact that she liked slapping Amber, liked hurting her, liked seeing the tears rush to her eyes as she looked up at her so desperately.
Amber was biting her lower lip, and Jade used her fingers to pry her lips apart. “You told me you want this, Amber. If you flinch or fidget or look like you don’t, I’m not going to do it.”
“I do want it,” Amber exclaimed, the words tripping over themselves. “I want you to slap me. I want you to hurt me. I want you to slap me so hard my ears ring.” Amber kept looking up at Jade even though Jade sensed she wanted to close her eyes, to pretend that somehow it wasn’t her saying those perverse, filthy words. Because they were extremely perverse; asking to be slapped made it all completely real. Amber couldn’t pretend Jade was some dominating brute, at least, not entirely.
Jade liked it when Amber watched, when Amber saw her hand coming, when she anticipated the pain. “I have a present for you,” she said, and reached into her jeans pocket, the jangling of the clamps loud in her ears. Amber’s eyes widened, and the hint of fear Jade saw, the hint that warmed her heart even as she prepared to tighten them around Amber’s nipples, made Jade smile. Amber was so open, whether by choice or design or a little of both; she could never hide her feelings, not like some girls Jade had played with who only truly let go when they were under the most extreme erotic distress. Jade could play the too-cool-for-school game too—but she didn’t want to.
She leaned down and pressed her body tight against Amber’s, kissing her roughly. “Take out your tits,” she said, “and hurry, or I’ll have to do it for you.” They both knew that “do it for you” was code for “rip your top off and send all the tiny buttons flying to the floor,” because Jade had done it before, with a hundred-dollar top (though she’d bought a replacement for Amber later).
Still, Amber rushed to unbutton her blouse and take out her breasts as soon as Jade stepped back to give her room, and the sight floored Jade, even though she’d seen those glorious globes so many times before. There was still something awe-inspiring about their weight, their eagerness to be touched and abused. Amber’s tits were like a work of art, and were Jade’s favorite part of her body. “Pinch those nipples for me,” Jade said, allowing Amber to bring her hands down. Amber started to lightly grab them between her thumbs and forefingers, much too lightly for Jade.
“No,” she said fiercely. “Pinch them. Like this.” And with that she slapped Amber’s hands away and pinched and pulled at the same time, then twisted, watching Amber’s face contort as she did, knowing it was making her wet, knowing too that the longer she did it, the more Amber was contemplating using her safeword, “strawberry,” a fruit she hated but ate when it was the only polite thing to do. Similarly, Amber hated to have to resort to her safeword, and only had once, when her leg cramped up.
When Jade was done, she let Amber’s breasts go, watching them bounce lightly before settling where they should be. Then she clamped one hand over Amber’s mouth and slapped her tits, slapped them hard enough to feel the sting in her right palm, to see the marks on Amber’s breasts, a defiant red. This brought out the wild beast in Jade, the one who wanted to claw and bite and grind Amber into the ground, the one that liked watching her struggle, feeling her lips pressing against her hand as she then switched to flicking her middle finger against her thumb and then right at the bull’s-eye of each nipple.
She finally let go, both of them breathing heavily. “Now you’re ready,” Jade said, and Amber gave her another of those almost painful looks, one that seemed to beg her not to put the clamps on while also swearing she’d leave her if she didn’t. Jade took Amber’s now-sore nipples, one at a time, and attached the clamps, pushing the rubber-covered lever just a little bit higher than she knew Amber would have, before taking the metal chain holding them together and shoving it into Amber’s mouth. “Bite down hard, sweetie, because if you let go, I’m out of here.” She slapped her face again, to see what Amber would do. She bit down harder on the chain, breathed in deeply through her nose.
And then Jade went to work on Amber’s pussy. She hadn’t intended, originally, to go this far in public. They’d been outside long enough that they could, reasonably, be noticed, and Amber was a knockout even when they weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary, drawing catcalls and sometimes a little too much attention. But Jade couldn’t have stopped herself from reaching between her girlfriend’s legs and slipping her fingers inside her if she’d wanted to. Of course Amber wasn’t wearing panties, and of course Amber was wet. Jade looked up, looked at Amber’s eyes—full, wide, riveted on hers, her teeth clamped around the metal chain, her body saying, in a language that needed no words, Take Me. And Jade did, no longer on quite the power trip she’d been on before, but now intent on giving something back.
She worked her fingers in the familiar ways she’d grown to learn Amber liked, navigating her insides, feeling her press back against her in response. Usually this was when Amber let out a stream of dirty words, or Jade did, or both of them did, but this time, Jade was silent as she pushed three fingers deep into Amber’s pussy, and then four, because she needed to be as far as she could go. She felt a slight twinge in her wrist as she shifted, sinking to her knees so she could peek up Amber’s skirt; the sight of her hand in Amber’s cunt never failed to make her swell with pride. She kept going, not needing to rattle the chain, not needing to slap or hit or hurt Amber any more, because she knew Amber could still feel the glow of the pain, the sweet sting from getting exactly what she wanted. Then Jade couldn’t resist, and pressed her head against Amber for a quick taste of her clit, a quick suck on her engorged bud that had Amber twisting her hips in response.
That was what did it; that stroke of her tongue had Amber coming hard, coming so she crushed Jade’s hand just the way she liked it. When Jade felt Amber relax, she pulled her hand out, then got out a wet wipe, because she was a top who came prepared. “Let go,” she said, taking the chain from Amber’s teeth with her own, both of them still hungry. She released the clamps slowly, heard Amber’s loud gasp as the blood rushed back into her nipples. Jade untied Amber’s wrists and pulled her clothes back in place. They’d been out there maybe ten minutes, Jade guessed; not long, but enough time to do what she needed to do. Jade took Amber’s hand and led it between her legs. She was packing. She kept it there as they walked home, where it would be Jade’s turn to get exactly what she wanted.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
A. J. STONE was born and raised in New York City. A feature film producer, she currently resides in Los Angeles.
KRISTINA WRIGHT (kristinawright.com) is an author and the editor of the Cleis Press anthologies Fairy Tale Lust; Dream Lover; Steamlust; and Best Erotic Romance 2012. Her erotic fiction has appeared in more than eighty anthologies. She lives in Virginia with her family and spends a lot of time in coffee shops.
ILY GOYANES is a Latina lesbian who lives to learn. When she isn’t writing for the Miami New Times newspaper, she likes to get dirty in her kitchen and in bed. Her fictional debut appeared in Lesbian Cops (Cleis). Visit thesideshow.info and share your most sinful recipe.
L. E. YATES is a freelance journ
alist and writer in East Anglia in the United Kingdom. “Cruising” is her first foray into the dirty and demanding twilight world, or so she likes to imagine it, of women’s erotica. Yates is interested in the imaginative loophole sex creates out of the boring contract of everyday life. In her spare time she enjoys visiting urban woodlands and pretending to walk her dog.
MIEL ROSE is a queer, rural, working-class high femme. Besides a smut writer, she is a fashion designer and an assistant stylist. Her butch/femme love and sex stories can be found in Best Lesbian Erotica 2008, Lesbian Lust, and Best Lesbian Romance 2011, to name a few.
RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL (rachelkramerbussel. com) is a writer, editor, blogger, and event organizer. She’s edited more than forty anthologies, including Spanked; Bottoms Up; Please, Sir; Please, Ma’am; and Best Bondage Erotica 2011 and 2012. She is senior editor at Penthouse Variations, sex columnist for SexIs magazine, and covers sex, dating, books, and pop culture widely.
ABOUT THE EDITOR
FELICE NEWMAN is the author of The Whole Lesbian Sex Book: A Passionate Guide for All of Us, a bestseller with more than 100,000 copies sold. She is a certified somatic coach and sex educator, and the founding co-publisher of Cleis Press. A fierce advocate for full sexual and gender expression for everyone, she helps individuals and couples create authentic and satisfying sex lives.
ETREATS: LITERARY TEMPTATIONS
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eISBN : 978-1-573-44957-1
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