by Fiona Zedde
At the sound of that deep, delicious sound, Ivy gave up her cat licks and dove into her pussy as if she was starving, licking and eating her with hungry wet sounds that made Sinclair squirm against her chair. The Asian woman came up behind Ivy and interrupted her view. Sinclair blinked at the unexpected addition to her lean dancer's body-a dash-toned dildo attached with leather straps to her hips. It was already covered with a condom.
"Get on your knees for me." She guided Ivy to her knees, without interrupting the other woman's hungry, pussy-eating rhythm.
Her long hands spread the full curves of Ivy's ass, then with a graceful, practiced move, slid deeply inside the tattooed woman. Ivy grunted but continued to dine on her well-muscled lover, stroking the dark nipples above her head as she ate. Hard Body laughed softly. "This ain't no pettin' zoo, baby. Squeeze my tits like you mean it."
Venus took pity on her and interrupted her self-pleasure to push Ivy's hands away. She leaned over the muscled woman, brushing her thick hair aside to fasten her greedy mouth on Hard Body's breasts. Her tongue moved with sure, hard strokes while her finger pinched and rolled a dark nipple until the muscled woman gasped and groaned her encouragement. Venus's eyes swept up to meet Sinclair's, whose panties were now soaking wet; her breasts tingled beneath a thin layer of sweat. She wanted to be touched. Badly.
"Sit here." Someone guided Sinclair to a chair with a better view. "This is much better. Don't you think?"
Now she could see the long arch of the muscled woman's body draped across the bed, her neck stretched back against the sheets and vibrating to her heavy breaths as Venus with the long hair suckled her breasts from above, biting and squeezing the hard nipples. The long-haired woman had a hand buried between her own spread legs. Ivy's wet mouth rode Hard Body's undulating pussy while her hands anchored themselves on the dark thighs. As if Sinclair's eyes touching her was the signal, the Asian woman reared up behind Ivy, burying her brown dick deeper in the tattooed woman's drenched pussy. Ivy gasped, then groaned deep in her throat. A chorus of moans and gasps overtook the room.
"You like that?" The chocolate goddess sitting on the arm of Sinclair's chair finally pulled her attention from the scene in front of her. Sinclair licked her dry lips.
"They're very uninhibited."
"You could say that."
"Jesus-!"
Sinclair looked up in time to see Hard Body's hands wrap themselves in Ivy's hair, pulling her deeper against her pussy. Her gasps became louder in the lofted space. Suddenly Sinclair couldn't see. Soft cloth brushed her cheekbones and tightened behind her head. She stiffened.
"Relax." Regina's voice dripped, melting sugar sweet, near her ear.
"Did you bring us an innocent to corrupt, Reggie?" someone murmured from nearby.
"Me? Never." Regina chuckled, then brushed her lips against Sinclair's. "Listen," she commanded.
Noises slipped out at her from the darkness-the slap of flesh against flesh, ragged moaning, hisses, gasps, the slide of sweat-drenched bodies.
"Faster," someone urged breathlessly. Beside her, Sinclair heard hands against cloth, the sound of someone undressing, lips meeting in a wet kiss, a giggle. A hand brushed Sinclair's throat.
"If you ever want to stop, to go home, just say the word." Regina's breath hovered near her ear, waiting.
"I will."
She rewarded Sinclair with a deep kiss. "Good girl."
When the sounds shifted back, she felt a hovering at her mouth, then the soft brush of something. "Open your mouth."
It was a finger, fragrant with the scent of a woman's body. She took the whole finger into her mouth, licking until it was completely clean.
"She's a natural at this," someone, not Regina, said.
Soft laughter teased her. She bit into the finger in her mouth.
"And she's got teeth, too." The finger withdrew.
Gentle hands brushed her neck and jaw. "So pretty." Lips grazed her throat. Waves of sensation rolled from the contact point and pooled between her legs. Something brushed against her lips. Sinclair licked it and was rewarded with a soft hum of delight. A nipple. She started to lift her hands, to keep the breast close, but other hands held down her own. Sinclair nuzzled the breast, teasing it with her mouth and adding her own sounds of pleasure to the ones raining down on her.
A weight pushed her legs apart. The chair slowly reclined. Warm breath brushed her toes, her knees, her thighs. The sounds in the warehouse burned through her, the gasping breaths, soft frantic sucking, the grunting of someone wield ing a dildo, a loud cry for Jesus. Hands tugged her panties off. The chair reclined all the way back, and a body straddled hers. The breasts returned to her face. This time she didn't even try to touch them, her mouth arched up and devoured soft flesh, tasting and testing the firmness of the underside of one heavy breast. The nipples were like blackberries. She bit them gently.
When a mouth touched her pussy, she gasped, then arched into it. The skin under her mouth became even more interesting. She wanted to take more of it inside. Two hot mouths enfolded each of her nipples at the same time and sent her body into sensual overload. A deep moan vibrated against the soft flesh under her lips. She widened her legs for the mouth eating her and arched against the twin mouths that were driving her out of her mind.
"What are you feeling, Sinclair?"
It took a moment for her to hear Regina's voice. Then another moment for her to respond. The full mound of flesh eased back to allow her voice room.
Sinclair nodded then gasped as the mouth between her legs reached her clit, its tongue doing a miraculous dance against the bundle of nerves. "Good," she murmured. "It feels good."
"I asked how you feel. Be specific." Regina's voice was so damn cool. It sent sparks shooting across Sinclair's skin as if she'd touched her.
"Li-like ... like a piece of volcanic rock." She gasped as the mouths worked her breasts, making soft liquid sounds that distracted her from Regina's voice almost as much as the tongue between her legs. "Like I'm in a mountain ... churning in hot lava ... waiting for the explosion."
"Ladies," Regina's voice lowered. "Why are you keeping her waiting?"
A soft mouth brushed hers. A hard tongue slid deep inside her. Teeth and mouths tightened around her breasts, milked them until the connection between her cunt, tits, and mouth was liquid but unbreakable. Her mountain exploded in a haze of fire. And that was just the first time.
"I think we wore her out, poor thing."
"She looks so cute."
"Can we take her home next time?"
Soft laughter followed them back into the lowering sun. Sinclair snuggled into the scented leather of Regina's car, curled into the backseat, her mind and body completely exhausted.
"Home, Jeeves." Sinclair weakly tapped on the back of the driver's seat.
Regina's soft laughter gently nudged her into sleep.
Sinclair woke up in Regina's bed. Sunset had come and gone and now night was beginning its slow descent upon the city. The curve of soft gray light pouring through the window reminded her of a woman's back, shadowed, hollow, curved. She turned away from the light and closed her eyes. The hours that had led to her exhaustion and her eventual nap came pouring into her brain like acid. She rolled away from its awareness, but the images came at her in clear Technicolor. She couldn't even blame the alcohol for it. If anything she had been drunk on Regina, on the power the writer had wielded over her. Still, that was no excuse. Toward the end she'd wanted it, wanted the spectacle almost as much as Regina, wanted to see what heights these women could take their bodies, and hers, to.
And now she was here. From far off in the apartment she could hear Regina puttering about. Top forty R & B floated into the bedroom and just below it was the sound of Regina's voice. The woman was adventurous, uninhibited. Sinclair had known that when she read her books, had even looked forward to fulfilling some fantasies with her. But was this too much? And what about this other mysterious person that Regina was seeing? Were they getting as
much of a workout as Sinclair?
Outside the window, city lights flashed, winking on in a domino of brightness that quickly spread out farther than Sinclair's eyes could see. She heard Regina approaching the bedroom with sure footsteps and still carrying the melody of a song on her lips. Sinclair slid back under the covers and pretended to sleep.
Chapter 4
soft knock sounded on Sinclair's office door. She paused .in the act of putting away paperwork in the filing cabinet and glanced at her watch. Five thirty-five. Sinclair felt a moment's regret for allowing Shelly to leave at the dot of five. This better not be business.
"Come in."
"Hey, there," Regina purred as she walked into the office. She could have done nothing else in the outfit she was wearing-black skintight leather pants, boots, and a corset laced so tight that she almost had cleavage. Catwoman come to life. "Come play with me," she said.
Sinclair stared at her lover, at the sleek skin that shone with body glitter, the ornate makeup and cornrowed hair. Her belly tightened with sudden desire to do anything and everything that Regina wanted. But Sinclair shook her head. "Can't. I have some things I need to do at home tonight."
"But it's a Friday."
"Sorry." Sinclair slid the file drawer closed and walked back to her desk. She'd been out with Regina almost every day this week. Tonight was her time to regroup, cuddle into her easy chair with a good book and a cup of rosemary tea.
Regina hummed deeply in her throat as she stalked Sinclair across the room then sat on the edge of the desk. "Come on, sugar." She brushed a thumb across Sinclair's nipple through the thin black blouse. "I'll make it worth your while."
Dinner and dancing. That's all she said it was going to be. But when they ended up at the Burning Rose, Sinclair knew that she'd been had.
"Welcome, ladies." The slim woman dressed in a rubber French maid's outfit took their coats and guided them to a table. A corner one, at Regina's request. The table was intimate, set far enough away from the main dining room that it was private, yet still had a good view of the round, stagelike area that was now empty except for a single chair. People stared as the two women walked past, sliding their eyes along Regina's leather-covered flesh with undisguised delight. Sinclair was glad that Regina had taken her back to the uptown penthouse for a change of clothes-simple leather pants, high heels, and a halter top that covered her breasts and almost nothing else.
"A gift," Regina had said with a seductive smile.
At least she fit in with the leather-and rubber-wearing crowd. The lights in the restaurant, provided by glittering crystal chandeliers, were golden and dim, giving the Burning Rose an air of romance and mystery. A pale-skinned waitress brought two menus and tall glasses of water.
"Would you like something else to drink, ladies?" Her Western European accent sounded fake.
"A bottle of your house red, please," Regina said with a dismissive wave. The girl nodded and left them alone.
"Are you going to tell me what kind of place this is?" Sinclair's curiosity was piqued. But not in a good way.
"Why spoil the fun, when I can just show you?" An impish smile teased her burgundy lips. "What would you like to eat?"
"I'm suddenly not hungry."
"No? At least look at the menu. You might find something that intrigues you." Regina opened the velvet-bound menu in front of Sinclair, smiling expectantly.
Sinclair sighed, but skimmed through the elegantly scripted menu anyway. Duck a l'orange, escargots, lobster bisque, truffles, spanking, public humiliation, foot worship ... Sinclair stopped reading.
"Are you kidding me?"
"You can order anything on the menu, either for yourself or your dinner companion." Regina arched an eyebrow. "Do you want to punish me for bringing you here?"
"Oh, for God's sake!"
"Look, someone ordered something special." Regina pointed to the stage where a woman, a gorgeous Anjelica Huston lookalike, wearing impossibly high-heeled boots and a very short leather skirt with slits up both sides, stood with her whip at the ready. Her breasts looked ready to spill from its black leather corset. A man was being led up to the stage by the rubber-wearing French maid.
"On your knees, bitch!" Anjelica ordered as she snapped her whip in the air. The man flinched and immediately dropped to his knees.
"Now clean my boot with your tongue. I want every inch of it wet." The boots laced all the way up to her thighs.
Sinclair looked away from the stage with mild disgust.
"I never figured you for a prude, darling," Regina murmured, looking at her companion with slightly narrowed eyes.
Sinclair closed the menu with a quick snap. "I'm not a prude. I just don't find this scenario the least bit arousing or interesting."
Regina lifted a hand to summon the waitress. "I'll have the filet mignon with shallots and cognac. Darling?" She looked at Sinclair.
"Lobster thermidor, please."
"And," Regina pointed to something on her menu. "I'll have one of these, as well. Heavy."
The girl nodded. "Would you like to keep the menu in case something else appeals to you later on?"
Regina smiled up at the girl. "You know, I think I will."
The waitress left with the soft sound of rubber against flesh and the smell of talc in her wake.
"Are you angry at me, darling?"
"Don't call me that. It's meaningless." On stage, the man had finished his task to hearty applause.
Leather creaked as Regina bent close to Sinclair. "What do you mean it's empty? You are a darling." Her voice was light, teasing. But Sinclair wasn't buying it.
"Are you ever serious?" She'd been seeing this woman for almost a month and she could honestly say that she knew next to nothing about her. Except that she liked sex.
"For you, darling? Never. That would be boring."
Next on stage was a leatherman. His body was completely hidden except for his maggot-white penis that flopped through a silver-toothed opening in the black leather. A woman wearing a schoolgirl's uniform approached the stage, led again by the French maid.
Sinclair looked away before she could see any more. "Do you enjoy this?"
Regina's eyes flickered to the stage, then back to Sinclair with obvious reluctance. "It's entertaining."
"I'd hate to see what disgusts you."
"Me, too." Regina twisted her red mouth.
Sinclair shook her head again. What had she gotten herself into? Yuen's explorations into sex-whether it had been light bondage or talking dirty-had amused rather than surprised her. Now with Regina she found herself being shocked at the things the woman was teaching her about herself, about just how far she could be pushed and manipulated sexually.
"What are you thinking about?" Regina asked.
"You."
"I'm flattered."
"It's the truth. Don't bother pretending to be surprised. What else can I think about when you're around?" Sinclair knew she sounded resentful. But she was getting tired of this one-dimensional affair. "Do I mean anything to you?"
"Of course. You're an incredible fuck. Yet you're so naive. You're like my lost childhood. My virginity."
Now that said it all, didn't it? Sinclair thought with a wry smile.
The maid interrupted whatever else Regina might have said. She brought the wine and poured them each a glass before looking finally at Regina. "Madame?"
The writer stood. "Ready."
Sinclair watched her go, admiring the motion of her ass under the leather and the gold-dusted bare arms that looked both sensual and strong under the restaurant's soft lights. She may be fucked up, but she was still gorgeous. Sinclair sipped her water to moisten her dry throat.
For purely masochistic reasons, her mind dipped back into the past, to one of the many nights she had been trying to find satisfaction but could not. It was not that long ago when Yuen had invited himself over with a gourmet dinner, aromatic teas, and sex. Their dinner was long gone and the tea cooling on the kitchen counter w
hen he got her into bed, undressed her, and slid down between her thighs. Despite his enthusiasm, Sinclair hadn't quite been able to get into it. Yuen toyed fruitlessly with her sore clitoris, working to get a sigh, a sound, something, out of her. She had sighed eventually, but it was a sound of impatience. The sound was lost in the pulse pounding rhythm of the M'shell CD playing in her bedroom and in the loud, eager noises that her boyfriend made whenever his mouth encountered her skin. Her body tingled, generating heat between her thighs, but as usual, fulfillment eluded her. She felt disconnected from herself, as if the things Yuen was doing were being performed on someone else. A possibility of pleasure existed somewhere out there, but she knew that it wouldn't be realized that night. Still, Yuen liked to touch her, so she let him.
He loved to look at her and, even after two years of being together, marvel at their different-shaded skin. In the beginning she had been entranced, too. They were beautiful to gether-his gold-touched porcelain flesh and hers the shade of freshly shaved nutmeg. If only all he wanted to do was lay in the sun together and talk. Then he could be the best friend that she never had. Instead he was someone she held back from. Someone with whom she reluctantly shared her body.
"Yuen, sweetheart. Can you just hold me?" She had made her voice soft, childlike. He looked up and his dark hair fell over his eyes, making him look no more than a child, certainly not like a thirty-two-yearold lawyer with an overactive libido.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. "
They adjusted themselves until she lay in his arms with her ear over his chest, listening to his pounding, unfulfilled heart. She touched his belly.
