by Violet Blue
She’d fantasized about having sex with this man all week, and although Leah hadn’t really believed her dream would come true, she had a good idea of what she wanted to do.
Placing her hands on his shoulders, she trailed her painted fingernails down each side of his smooth chest, lingering over his stiff nipples, flicking their tips once or twice, watching with fascination as they hardened into short peaks.
All the time Leah sensed Sam looking at her, his eyes boring into the top of her head. It wouldn’t have taken much effort for him to break free from his restraints, but he made no attempt to escape as Leah slid her hands farther south, exploring the outline of his toned torso down to his naval, which she circled with light scratches of his skin.
Dropping to her knees, she bought her mouth to his stomach. With long lingering laps that made him tighten his muscles further, she tongued his flesh an inch above the elastic of his underwear. Encouraged by the growl Sam wasn’t able to contain, Leah’s kisses became firmer as she gripped his knees to steady herself, her chest rubbing against the lace that encased it.
Drawing back, Leah brought her eyes back to his. The ache in her chest was becoming unbearable; she felt as if her breasts were actually inflating. Placing her hands behind her back, she unfastened her bra and finally freed her tits from captivity. Sam’s eyes widened at the sight of her creamy freckled chest and large nipples, which were pointing directly at him, as though they were accusing him of something.
Leah began to weigh her tits in her palms, easing a single finger up and over each, making herself gasp as she caressed her body in front of her semibound audience.
Following every move of Leah’s masturbation, Sam gulped as one hand entered her knickers. He stared as she closed her eyes, the hand obviously manipulating her mound, hidden by the red lace. Sam’s cock pressed painfully into his thigh. He wasn’t going to be able to take much more before he would have to have his own underwear removed; plus, although Leah was blissfully unaware of the fact, time was running out.
His breath caught in his throat as, with her eyes still closed, Leah hooked either side of her knickers beneath her thumbs and edged them to the floor. Ideally he would have liked to see this through, to see what this amazing woman planned for his domination, but he had instructions of his own to carry out.
It took only a matter of seconds to release his hands, and while Leah was lost in her personal world of pleasure, Sam picked up his shirt and Leah’s blouse, tearing his eyes away from Leah, and stood up.
Sensing movement, Leah’s eyes flashed open, but Sam was too quick for her. In seconds she’d been picked up and pushed, back down, against the large coffee table, a knee pinning her stomach in place, while her right hand was yanked up and attached to a table leg with his shirt.
Shocked by the dramatic turn of events, Leah’s left wrist was already being restrained before her voice came to her. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Taking control.” He stunted any further protests with his mouth, kissing her ferociously. “Trust me. This, you will love.”
Leah’s head spun; she’d been moments from orgasm, and she longed to come. She pulled at her arms, but the bindings held, and as he spread her legs wide and attached her ankles to the table legs, she realized that he’d had as many plans for her as she’d had for him.
Robbed of the ability to move, Leah felt incredibly vulnerable. No one had ever secured her so completely; a natural control freak, she was always the one who did the tying up. This was new territory, and she wasn’t sure if she was thrilled or terrified.
Sam swung a leg over the table and stood astride the tethered woman, his dick still a prisoner in his underwear. “You look amazing.” He leaned forward and freed Leah’s hair from its ponytail, so that she could rest her neck more comfortably against the wood.
Leah was about to speak, when he placed his warm lips over her right tit, and her words of protest immediately morphed into a drawn-out mewl, and her sensation was increased when a hand came to her other breast, teasing the slightly rough skin around the areola.
A gentle click bought Leah back to reality, and she pointlessly struggled to sit up. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Sam murmured through his mouthful of breast, and Leah sank back against the table. Her hair was already a mass of knots beneath her as her head moved from side to side in frustration at not being able to touch him and confusion at her body’s total enjoyment of being entirely at the whim of someone else.
As Sam worked, Leah could feel the climax she’d been denied rise again, increasing in urgency with every lap of his tongue and each flick of his fingers. “Don’t stop, please don’t…I’m so close.”
Sam kept going, his ears listening for the quickening of her breath that would tell him Leah could take no more. He was also listening for another sound, the sound of a packet being opened.
Leah’s back began to arch against the table. “Oh, hell, Sam, I’m coming, I’m gonna…”
“Not yet you’re not.”
Sitting up abruptly Sam looked toward the hall, the shift in his weight forcing Leah against the unyielding surface of the coffee table. “You took your time.”
Leah felt cold, as if someone had pressed the PAUSE button on her orgasm, while her brain struggled to make sense of what her eyes told her was happening.
“You look fantastic sweetheart.” Sam beamed at Sarah, who stood in the doorway dressed in her brand-new lingerie.
Blinking, trying to extinguish the vision in front of her, Leah forced herself to digest the knowledge that she should have seen this coming. Horribly self-conscious of her nakedness, she wriggled against her restraints.
“Don’t bother, honey.” Sarah swept her stunning red hair from her shoulders as she peered down at the saleswoman. “If Sam has tied you up, he’ll have done it securely enough to make sure you can’t escape.”
Her throat had never felt drier, and yet Leah could feel the liquid continue to leak from her pussy as two sets of eyes focused all their attention on her prone body.
Sarah put out a hand and yanked Sam off Leah’s stomach, so that they were next to each other. As if she was a lioness marking her mate, Sarah kissed him deeply, leaving Leah in no doubt as to whom this man belonged. Then, glancing at Leah again, Sarah said, “You’re right Sam, she is beautiful.”
Leah’s face turned from pink to scarlet as the other woman casually placed a hand, flat and unmoving, between her legs. “Tell me, Sam, what’s happened so far? What have I missed?”
Feeling like a thing, a mere object, a sex toy for two lovers, Leah listened as Sam gave Sarah a blow-by-blow account of everything they’d done together. As he told his lover about Leah’s masturbation, she laughed, and Leah felt the blush on her face creep through her and swamp the rest of her shamed flesh.
Attempting to block out the conversation going on above her, Leah shut her eyes, but there was no escape from either the audible replay, or the pressure of the gloriously soft palm that remained fixed in place between her legs.
When Sam eventually stopped talking, Leah cautiously dared to open her eyes. The silence between the three of them was tense, the expressions of her companions unreadable. Leah felt the need to speak, to break the heavy expectant atmosphere that floated around the room. “You look nice.”
Even as she spoke, Leah knew her comment had been rather lame, but Sarah smiled. “Thank you, so do you…” She started to glide her hand gently up and down. “…And you feel even better.”
Leah moaned softly as her body leapt a little off the table. Immediately, Sarah removed her hand, making Leah whimper in distress.
Losing another chance to orgasm deprived Leah of the last vestiges of her pride, as Sarah adopted the position Sam had previously held over her hips, placing her hands on her own chest. “It’s gorgeous, this underwear you sell, but don’t you find that the lace edging is a little scratchy?” Without bothering to let Leah reply, Sarah pulled the bra’s cups beneath her tits and
began to fondle her nipples. “How badly do you want to suck these I wonder? As badly as you want your own chest sucked I should think, but perhaps not as badly as you want Sam’s dick in your pussy?”
Leah gazed up at the other woman, her brain racing. She’d been with women before, but not like this, not without some level of power, and not for a very long time.
“No answer?” Sarah continued to play with her breasts. “Perhaps you aren’t that bothered about coming after all?”
“What? No! I have to, please…”
Sarah laughed again, but more kindly this time, as she turned to Sam. “Time to remove those boxers, honey, before they cripple you for life.”
Swiftly Sam obliged, and Leah sighed at the sight of him: his cock was as hard as any she’d ever seen.
Sarah pointed, and Sam went to the foot of the table, crouching by Leah’s tethered feet. Then, moving so she stood over Leah’s head, leaning forward so that her breasts hovered just inches from Leah’s lips, Sarah spoke bluntly: “Suck me.”
As she engulfed the offered right nipple, a zip of electricity instantly shot through Leah at the sensation of having a woman’s breast in her mouth. Then, as she got into a comfortable rhythm of licks and nips, Leah jolted again; a male tongue was working between her legs.
It only took a few seconds before the orgasm Leah had been denied twice before raced up her throat and along her spine. As her pussy quivered against Sam’s greedy mouth, Leah’s cries of pleasure were muffled by Sarah pushing her tit farther into her mouth.
Exhausted, Leah felt the final flutters of her climax escape, and her kisses against Sarah’s peach skin became lighter as the strain in her neck and the ache in her trapped body filled her with sudden fatigue.
Stroking a hand across Leah’s forehead, Sarah wiped away stray strands of hair before she signaled to Sam to untie their guest. Then they helped Leah to sit up and allowed her to catch her breath for a moment, before Sam abruptly picked her off the table and laid her on the sofa.
Seconds later, Sarah was astride Leah’s face, and Sam was over her hips, his cock pumping in and out of her as Sarah ordered, “Lick me girl; make me come.”
Flashing colors danced behind Leah’s eyes as she worked her tongue frantically over Sarah’s clit, while the gloriously thick dick of the client she’d fantasized about all week rammed in and out of her. A new climax knocked the first from Leah’s mind with sharp intensity, as Sam came in her and Sarah spasmed wonderfully sticky juice across her lips and chin.
They left the underwear seller to dress on her own. As Leah picked up her discarded holdall she noticed that a pile of cash had been left next to her bag; precisely the correct amount for Sarah’s new underwear.
Feeling wobbly on her kitten heels, she took a final look around the room, her eyes lingering for a moment on the coffee table, picturing what she must have looked like to her client and his girlfriend. Smiling to herself, Leah headed quietly to the front door.
Her hand was on the latch when Sam came up behind her. “Sarah really loves that underwear.”
“Good.” Leah didn’t know what else to say.
“She wondered if you had another set of the same style in black.”
“I’ll have to order it, but yes.”
“Will you bring it next week?”
“I said I’d never come back.”
“I know what you said, but will you bring it next week anyway?”
Leah fixed her eyes directly on Sam’s. “Maybe,” she said, before she walked out the door and headed to her car, knowing as well as he did that she’d be back.
ALL SHAVED UP
Liv Olson
Millie plugged in the hair trimmer and stepped into the tub. She flipped the switch and the low burring noise started. She looked down and began to quickly run the trimmer over her pussy—zip, zip, zip; one, two, three—right from the top down to the point of her dark Bermuda triangle.
Amazing how easily she shaved the most intimate part of her body now, she thought, compared to the first few times she’d attempted it. And that first time took the cake. She struggled to recall why she decided to try shaving. She’d resisted the idea for a long time. One boyfriend asserted she was “medium hairy” and suggested she shave “only if she wanted to….” Another had barged into her apartment practically demanding that she do so. Why did men get turned on by seeing women shaved up? It seemed so trashy to her—all related to fulfilling some kinky male sex fantasy.
Then she met Brad. His body hair spoke of southern European stock. Not swarthy or especially hirsute, he had plenty of dark curly hair on his chest and arms and legs and—well—down there. Or at least he appeared as if he would, should he so desire. The first time Millie and Brad lay bare chest to bare chest, she realized he must be trimming his chest hair—with scissors. He claimed short hair kept him cooler, more comfortable. She fought against scratching. Pokey, pointy, jaggedly cut chest hairs created an uncomfortable environment for snuggling. Brad cut his chest hair with scissors about as well as Millie trimmed her long-gone Lhasa Apso with scissors—the result was functional but definitely not aesthetic. If the poor dog had had any pride, it would have wilted in public.
Then Brad decided to experiment with a hair trimmer. The first time he used it, Millie thought she’d died and gone to heaven. His chest felt ever so much better. She never minded curly chest hair in the first place, but if he wanted it short, she definitely preferred uniformly trimmed hair.
Then the trimmer kept moving lower and lower.
And Millie decided she kind of liked it—Brad’s being shaved up. They were nice, even haircuts. She could see the patterns in his hair, the whorls around the nipples, the strokes pointing toward his member—like a Van Gogh painting: dark brushstrokes on a pale canvas.
So she asked Brad to trim her up too.
Millie pulled her labia apart to get the finer hair at the inner edge, fingers protecting her delicate areas: zip, zip, zip. She grimaced at herself for waiting so long.
The first time Millie tried to shave down there, she nearly chickened out, scared to death of cutting herself in a most uncomfortable location. So she asked Brad to do it. They spread out a towel on his bed and she lay on it naked. The big orange extension cord was strung from the bathroom into the bedroom.
“Are you ready?” Brad asked her.
Millie’s eyes widened and she nodded.
Brad turned the clipper on and she heard the buzz.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” she said. “Is it going to hurt? What if you cut Martha?”
“Martha?”
“You know. Martha.”
“You call it ‘Martha’?”
“Well, you call yours ‘Mr. Johnson’!”
Brad rolled his eyes. “I’m using a guide on the clipper,” he said. “It makes sure the blades don’t get too close to anything important.”
“Okay,” Millie said, tensing up. “Go ahead.”
Brad brought the clipper to her belly.
“Here,” he said, “I am just going to rest it on your tummy so you can feel it. It isn’t going to hurt you—or Martha.”
She felt the vibrations of the clipper on her lower belly, not yet touching her hair. She’d had the back of her neck trimmed up in the past, but it had been a long time since she’d had hair that short. And she had never worried about her neck the way she worried about Martha.
“Okay, I’m going to start with just a little at the top.”
Brad pressed the flat edge of the trimmer against her firmly, right where the line of hair started. He went about an inch then stopped and looked at her.
“That feels weird,” she said.
He did another swipe on either side of the first one. And another. After he’d trimmed the entire upper part of her pussy, he stopped.
“Are you ready for me to go lower?” he asked.
Millie nodded. Then shook her head, then nodded again.
“Okay,” she said. “Do it.”
“What? I didn’t even touch you yet.”
“I know. I’m just nervous.”
“Okay, hold still.” Brad tried again.
Just as the clipper touched her skin, Millie yelped again.
Brad stepped back and looked at her sternly.
“I can’t do this if you’re going to keep squawking like that,” he said.
Millie’s eyes widened farther. “You can’t leave me like this!”
“Then hold still!”
“I’ll try,” she said.
But of course she couldn’t. Every time Brad touched her, she winced, or yelped, or squeezed her eyes shut and made a sound like an injured dog. It took almost half an hour for Brad to finish. No damage to Martha.
Millie lifted her leg a bit so she could reach the hair trimmer deeper down, past the labia toward her ass, trimming the hair along the crevice. She did it all by feel: first one side, then the other.
Millie remembered how she got aroused the first time Brad shaved her up, despite her fear of potential injury. She didn’t realize how much the attention to that region of her body would affect her. Though the intent of the experiment was entirely nonsexual, the looking and touching and moving bits and pieces out of the clipper’s way got her wet. Brad must have noticed along the way, but he didn’t say anything.
“Go rinse off,” he ordered as he wrapped up the extension cord.
While she showered, Millie felt the swelling of her cunt, the slipperiness exuding from her opening. The realization that shaving turned her on surprised her. When Millie returned from the shower, Brad lay on the bed naked, stroking himself.
“God, it turns me on to see you naked. To shave you up and see you get all hot and wet while I’m doing it,” he said.
“Me, too. How did that happen?”
“You have a pretty little pussy,” he said, “and I think you like showing it off!”
