Free Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica by Rachel Kramer Bussel, Sinclair Sexsmith, Miriam Zoila Perez, Wendi Kali, Gigi Frost, BB Rydell, Amelia Thornton, Dilo Keith, Vie La Guerre, Anna Watson Page A

belt buckle and zipper. I was left stripped of pants and boxers, with only my harness and boots left as armor. Nakedness feeling all the more profound as I felt hym press into me, binder and shirt intact, cock protruding through the fly of hys jeans. Hy bit my shoulders and I bucked up against hym, reaching out in blindfolded darkness. I wanted to wrestle, wanted to fight, but I was so deep into this I could make little more than a feeble attempt.
    Hy was on top of me now, pushing me into the mattress and kneading the tense muscles in my back. I must have relaxed slightly because soon hys hand was under me, grabbing my cock and beginning to stroke, finding me hard and wet for hym. Hys other hand moved the middle strap of my harness aside and pushed hys cock in hard. I gasped and hy whispered that I better be grateful and keep quiet. Hy fucked me harder, pulled my hand down to my own cock, and I began stroking. Hy was using my harness as a handle for better leverage, getting deeper and moaning through clenched teeth with each thrust. With each thrust hy went deeper than was comfortable. My resolve broke, throat erupting in a stream of moans and “please” and “Daddy, don’t stop.”
    I found my coordination and was able to stroke myself in time to each thrust. I was so close, right on the edge, when hy paused. For a moment I thought hy was stopping, that this was a cruel tease, but then hy pushed in deeper than before with a growl, shudder, and moan that told me hy’d just finished in me. Hys final thrust and moan sent me over the edge and I began coming around hys cock, in my hand, shuddering beneath hym.
    We lay together for a few minutes, panting. I felt the sweat run off hys forearms onto my back and the sticky warmth of hys shirt against my ass. I opened my eyes and discovered that at some point the blindfold had come off; the room was disheveled and poorly lit. I rolled over and kissed hym deeply when I heard a buzzing beside my head. Hys phone, dropped earlier on the nightstand, was vibrating. Rolling off me, hy picked it up and scrolled through a text message.
    “The girls are wondering where we went, I better get back,” hy muttered, tucking hys cock back into hys jeans and running a comb through hys hair. I scrambled to pull on my pants, not believing that after all this hy was going back to the club, going back for the femmes we’d ditched earlier. Hy tactfully went to the bathroom to give me time to bind again. When hy returned, I was sitting on the edge of hys bed.
    “I’m ready to go,” I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
    “Not quite,” hy growled, pressing my black hanky into my hand. “You earned this, boi,” he said, and then motioned I should follow hym back through the dark house and out to hys truck.

SPANKING BOOTH
     
    Dusty Horn
     
     
     
     
     
     
    “ I f you think all it takes to run a successful sexy fund-raiser is a good-looking person under a sign that says ‘Kinky Kissing Booth,’ you are sorely mistaken.” My colleague Lisa grins, gently guiding a little blonde thing off my lap and handing him a glass of water.
    Lisa is a bombshell high-femme transsexual, 6’2” in stilettos, and thus the perfect maternal figure for endorphin-befuddled spankees.
    “How do you pull it off so well?” this satisfied customer asks dreamily, pulling his rubber skirt down with some effort and rubbing the smarting bottom beneath.
    I field this one. I am feeling quite pleased with myself and perhaps a little top-drunk at all the fresh, no-strings-attached meat this gig gets me.
    “A spanking booth requires a hustler of the highest order, preferably a team of slick hustlers with a relaxed but firm hierarchy of command.”
    It’s 1:15 a.m. on a Saturday night, and I am running one such well-oiled machine at a leather destination in the SOMA district of San Francisco. I’ve assembled a half dozen foxy tops plus a few delectable switches and bottoms of varying genders to appeal to