Lips Like Sugar

by Violet Blue

  I am an intelligent woman. I have completed my years of university, obtained my degree, and run my own successful business. I am quite efficient at taking care of myself, and have been for most of my life. Independent since I was seventeen, I have made a point of not depending on people to reach my goals. I do not take shit from anyone.

  “So what?” you ask, surely already bored to hear about my pussy power-play. “Yet another strong woman.” While never a bad thing, it is not altogether rare anymore in this modern world. Fifty years ago, I may have made the headlines, but now…not so much as a mention, except in the classifieds. And, for all my ball-busting in daily life, that is where I turned to fulfill my guilty pleasure.

  I fought for years to ignore these daydreams, these perverse little fantasies. The longer you repress, the bigger the eventual explosion, as my poor, unfortunate ex-husband discovered. He could not wrap his mind around my requests, and we eventually fell apart. How traumatic, disgusting, and kinky a fetish could I possibly have to merit a divorce? Is it water sports? An undying love for feet? Was I really a lesbian?

  No. Not as sensational as all that. All I truly want, in the darkest of my nether regions, is to be dominated and fucked like never before. I know it sounds simple, yet it’s not. I intimidate all the men I meet before I even have the chance to get them anywhere near my bed. It’s not intentional, honestly, and I have tried to tone it down a bit. True, there have been the occasional walking hard-ons who have attempted to pick me up, but their dominant behavior outside the bedroom has forced me to shoot them down almost instantly. I worked too hard for too long to allow a man to try to take over my everyday life. I will not be the submissive little wifey at the dinner party. However, when I get home at night, all I want is to be tied up and fucked like a bad little girl.

  This is where Cal comes in. I’m hurrying down the steps of my office, flushing at the knowledge that I’m already late to see him, which will certainly provoke some disciplinary measures.

  We met through a mutual friend at a party, and while he was a bit intimidated by me, he never showed it. However, my lovely but not always most tactful friend had mentioned to him the ad I had put in the classifieds the week before.

  “Dominant SWF seeks male able to put her in her place…” and so on and so forth. I had convinced her it was just a joke, and convinced myself that she believed me. “I just want to see the responses I’ll get,” I told her, which was partly true. The responses I did receive, however, were mostly appalling. I mean, at least wait until we’ve fucked before talking down to me.

  Getting back to Cal…. And what a beautiful sight he was to behold. He had an almost puppy-dog look to him, innocent and wide-eyed, with an adorable, shaggy haircut to go with it. Not the most intimidating figure by any stretch of the imagination, but certainly attractive. He played the docile, obedient role all night until the party began to thin out. He invited me to his home and, to my surprise, I said yes. I figured I had enough energy to ride him for a bit. We left in separate vehicles, him leading the way back to his apartment.

  It didn’t take very long, and to my utter surprise, the moment we stepped in his door, he instantly dropped his shy, docile demeanor. He pulled me to him, his lips rough on mine, and wasted no time conveying what he had in mind for the rest of the evening. I spent the first few moments in shock. Had he really just initiated this? That thought, of course, led to the inevitable bit of outraged pride. How dare he attempt this without permission? Until I finally told my brain to shut up and just enjoy the circumstances.

  With one hand behind my head, and the other around my waist, he crushed my body against his. I could feel his cock, already hard and insistent against my abdomen. His hand slid to my ass, kneading the muscles while his fingers tightened in my hair. He pulled a bit, till my head was leaning back, and I caught a glimpse of an evil smile before he lowered his lips to my neck. His tongue danced over my skin, whispers of motion sending chills all the way down to my steadily moistening panties. His teeth nipped at my flesh at random, my neck, my shoulders, and down for a brief moment to one nipple before resurfacing up by my ears.

  “If you really want me to stop, at any point say….” He paused for a second, considering the options. “Say ‘Teddy.’ ” I turned a bit to eye him curiously, and he shrugged. “Just came to mind.”

  He restarted his teasing tongue work, and I wanted to tease him as well. Swiftly, my hand dropped in between us, to the tip of his cock, and I was rewarded with a low moan in my ear before he grasped my hand with his.

  “Not until I tell you to,” he whispered sternly as he guided my hand behind my back, entwining our fingers together.

  I nodded at him, eager to play along for the first time in my life. He released his hold of my hair briefly as he leaned in for a kiss. Or so I thought. Instead, he nipped at my bottom lip, refusing to kiss me, and when I tried to capture his mouth with mine, I was quickly put back in my place as he grasped my hair again. I was trying to be obedient, but you have to understand that this was a new experience for me.

  Letting his grip loosen, he moved his hands to my shoulders, then to the top button of my shirt. He tugged on it, which gave easily, letting a larger sliver of my skin show through. He undid the rest slowly, and I honestly wondered how he could be so patient. My shirt fell to the ground with a flutter and I almost moved my arms to cover myself. Instead, I leant against the wall and watched him, waiting for his next move.

  He slipped one finger inside the waistband of my skirt and tugged. I moved toward him, not quite sure what he had in mind. He stepped backward, making his way through the hallways and eventually into his bedroom. The room was dim, filled with unfamiliar shadows, but his eyes seemed to radiate light. He pulled me up against him and slid his hands to the zipper of my skirt. Undoing it, he slid it down my thighs, licking in between my breasts and down my stomach as he did so. Leaving it on the ground, he took my hand and helped me step out of it. Just as fluidly, he pushed down on my shoulders to get me on my knees. I knelt before him, shocked at my obedience but obviously motivated by my now-wet pussy. His hands moved to his waistband and I expected him to uncover himself, and was surprisingly hoping he would. Instead, he slid his belt through the loops and free from his pants. He looked at me for a minute.

  “Put your hands behind your back. “

  They were there before he finished the sentence. He stepped behind me with a grin, obviously content with my compliance. Stooping down on one knee, he bound my hands with his belt, wrapping it around a few times to ensure its security. Once done, he reached over for something on a desk a few feet away, and slipped it over my head. A leather blindfold. Soft but unyielding, it left me completely sightless and even more turned on.

  I heard him move in front of me again, his fingers suddenly trailing down my cheek and to my lips. He ran a fingertip over the bottom one, slipping it slowly into my mouth before continuing over the top lip.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  His question caught me off guard. I was the one bound, and he was asking me what to do?

  “I… I don’t know.”

  Silence for a minute. His hand moved away from my lips. Obviously the wrong answer.

  “If you don’t know, I may as well just go to bed and leave you here.”

  I almost whimpered aloud.

  “No, don’t. I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

  I could see his smirk in my mind, and the sound of his zipper being undone was almost imperceptible. Nonetheless, the moment I heard it I froze.

  “And what if I want you to suck on this….”

  His cock brushed my lips, velvety smooth but hard as a rock. Just as quickly as it appeared, he pulled away before I could open my mouth.

  I struggled for words, not ever before having had to ask for what I wanted.

  “I want to suck you off.”

  His skin rested on my lips again, waiting for my move. Sliding my tongue out, I tasted him, twirling around his di
ckhead. He was salty, with just a bit of precum moistening my motions. I slipped my lips around him and took him as deep as I could. My tongue massaged the length of his cock as I began to move my head back and forth over him. He was quite large, larger than I was used to, and I could not get him as far in as I had hoped. I decided to make up for it in other ways. Letting him slide out of my mouth, I trailed my tongue down his cock until I reached his ballsac, darting my tongue out to lick it briefly before continuing back up to his head. He inhaled sharply and, encouraged, I repeated my actions.

  Alternating between this, and taking him deeply into my mouth, was beginning to bring him to his climax. I could tell by his breathing, and when his hand suddenly grasped my hair and began forcing me onto him faster and faster, I knew he was going to come. Until he finally pulled me off him and there was nothing—just silence and his heavy breathing.

  I sat there, unsure of what to do, trying to ignore the throbbing between my legs.

  “You did well. But I’m not ready to come yet. I believe I still have to fuck you.”

  With that statement, he stepped behind me again to remove the belt from my wrists, but didn’t touch the blindfold. I heard the rustle of something that sounded suspiciously like a condom wrapper.

  “Normally I would leave you tied up and helpless, but you’ve been good so far, so I figure you deserve to at least hold yourself up while I fuck you.”

  I simply nodded, trembling with want. He took my hand and lifted me up, crushing me to him as he did so. His tongue teased mine, his cock pressed against my thigh, and I wanted him so bad I didn’t know if I could stand any more. Without warning, he turned me around and guided me forward until my knees struck something solid. He pushed down on my back, and I reached blindly until I found the top of the desk. There I rested on my arms, and he kept one hand on the small of my back, his other hand drifting over my thighs and ass.

  SMACK! Catching me completely off guard, he had slapped my ass and my body lurched against the desk. My nails tried to dig into the surface as the warmth began to spread over the cheek he had hit. I had never been spanked before, and wasn’t even aware it could be erotic until now. His hand rubbed the spot he had just focused on, before he slid one finger over the damp area of my panties. The brief touch to my clit caused me to moan aloud.

  SMACK! He hit me again, this time the other cheek, and it seemed that this hit had sent fire straight to my pussy. I wanted to come, I wanted him to fuck me, and I just wanted pleasure more than I ever had before. This time he slipped his finger inside my panties, trailing up and down between my lips as I squirmed underneath him.

  “This is what happens when you misbehave.” He pulled his hand away to strike me again, just hard enough to sting and make me want more. I bucked against his hand, as his finger slipped inside me for a brief second.

  “But you’ve been good…. So you’ll have to settle for this instead.”

  With one easy move, he pulled my panties aside and slid inside me. He was so huge that for a moment I thought there would be pain. The feeling subsided, though, and replacing it was the realization that he was directly pressing against my G-spot. He slid out a bit, before moving back in and, oh god yes, that was my G-spot. I also realized he had somehow managed to slip a condom on in between his teasing.

  Everything else fled from my mind as he began a slow, rhythmic pace. Teasing even now, he could tell from my moans that while the pressure felt fantastic, it wasn’t enough to make me come. He sped up a bit, his hands gripping onto my hips as the sensations rose in me.

  “Do you want me to fuck you harder?” His voice was almost a growl from behind me.

  “Yes…. Fuck, yes.”

  He slammed into me harder and harder, as my orgasm built, almost to the climax, and just when I thought I was going to plateau forever, he slipped his hand between us to rub my clit in small circles. I came harder than I ever had before, my muscles spasming around his cock, and I felt him let go inside me, no doubt triggered by my tightening. I collapsed onto the desk, unable to support my weight any longer. His hands gripped my hips hard, as he rode his orgasm out.

  That was our first night. Just when I thought he wouldn’t be able to top that, I had seen Cal’s place with the lights on. Many of those unfamiliar shadows turned out to be restraints and other goodies, which of course he had used to torment me with for hours. More importantly, he had turned me into a content submissive, something I’d never thought possible. Except, of course, for the occasional slip-ups once in a while.

  Such as right now. I turn off my car, already in front of his apartment. Memories had blanked out my entire trip here, but now I have to go in and face the music. Oh, how hard it is to pretend to dread what I have been looking forward to all week. Nonetheless, I wipe the “domineering bitch” look off my face as I step through the door. Innocent façade on, I know he will never fall for it, but the game just isn’t as fun without it.

  “You’re late.”

  He is standing in the doorway to his bedroom, in low-riding jeans with no shirt. Walking slowly toward him, I accept my fate. And hope it will be just as good as last time.

  THE ACCIDENTAL EXHIBITIONIST

  Debra Hyde

  Goose bumps peppered Cara’s skin as she left the warm bathroom for the bedroom of her hotel suite. She dumped her toiletries into their overnight bag and, hands free, she rubbed the chill from her arms. Clothes, she wanted her clothes. She wanted to bundle herself away from the chill and settle into warmth and comfort. That and a warm cup of cocoa would work just fine.

  Her lover, however, had different ideas. Michael always did, especially when they traveled to fetish events. Where Cara once found fetish events fun and exhilarating, great for finding erotic amusements and watching people, all that changed when Michael came on her scene. To him, every event was an opportunity to put his dominance front and center, to make obvious the claim, “I own her.”

  Cara spied the clothing Michael had laid out for her, and she knew this time would be no different. He intended to dress her as eye candy—his eye candy. Which meant no leather skirt and corset for her. No playful fantasy fairy wings or teasing schoolgirl uniform. And forget her favorite, the leather-and-Levis attempt to mimic certain hardcore gay men. No, Michael had other ideas, and it involved slutwear.

  Slutwear, his favorite. And Cara knew what to expect: a micro-mini, thigh-high stockings, a cleavage-creating top, and dainty little shoes that made her traipse delicately. All told, it exaggerated her femininity, turning it from almost-tomboy to something that was equal parts hooker and porn star. And near the damning evidence stood Michael, clutching a long length of metal chain.

  “Come here,” he commanded, motioning her to stand before him.

  He draped the chain forward from behind her neck, its rings falling over her shoulders in uneven lengths. He clipped the short end of the chain to the longer, just between her breasts, then wrapped the longer length around her waist and ran it between her legs until it ended at her waist. There, he locked its meeting points with a single combination lock. The weight of the metal hung on Cara, effectively harnessing her.

  “Dress now,” Michael directed.

  Cara looked at her wardrobe and stopped short. The requisite push-up bra and scoop-necked top were missing. Instead, a red blouse sat in their place, one so sheer that it was obviously meant to be worn over skimpy camisoles.

  But a camisole was nowhere in sight. Cara looked at Michael. He offered no explanation, just a devilish grin, a bit of a chuckle—and two small, round adhesive bandages, one for each nipple. Stuck to her, they were just large enough to meet the letter of the law.

  “Go ahead,” he urged. “Put the blouse on.”

  She dressed slowly, hindered by the chain’s weighty hug. Each item found its place on her body, but she moved so methodically that it almost dulled her senses. Michael, however, preferred drama and as soon as Cara buttoned up, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over to a full-length mirror.
He undid two of the buttons of her blouse and spread wide the lapel in a blatantly tawdry gesture.

  “I think men will enjoy seeing you like this.”

  Cara witnessed her reflection. Pale skin exposed, compromised, she was as near to naked as she could ever want to be. Her breasts were completely visible, for the blouse did nothing to obscure them, and the chain and the adhesive bandages only seemed to accentuate them. Go ahead, they seemed to say, look at her. Look at her tits. But they also claimed something even more dangerous, and they spoke in Michael’s voice. They said, Look at what I can make her do.

  A wave of embarrassment washed over Cara, but even in the midst of her humiliation, she knew that Michael always took control, she always followed, and they both liked it that way. Fetish events, if nothing else, allowed them to make obvious to the rest of the world what they preferred, if only for a short time, in a space limited to people like themselves.

  Michael latched a leather collar and cuffs into place on her and locked them, and Cara knew what the sight of her thus presented proclaimed: My flesh is his. My body is his. And she knew that everyone would see it as territorially as Michael felt it.

  “Put your hair up.”

  As if the blouse and bandages and the leather collar weren’t enough, Cara fumbled through what should have been a quick-and-easy French curl, but she was slowed by the dope-like affects of humiliation and submission. Somehow, they transformed a mundane task into something akin to an impossible quest, but she persevered until every long strand was in place. The result left her breasts all the more visible—and Michael’s message all the more unmistakable.

  The ballroom was a hub of familiar fetish activity. Vendors offered kinky wares, people had dressed with flair and flourish, and from center stage presenters offered demonstrations on everything from liquid latex to strap-on cocks. Cara had seen it all before, but no matter how often she attended fetish events, she couldn’t help but get caught up in its contagious enthusiasm.