Lessons in Love Read online

  “You’re going to make me come,” Rachael suddenly cried out. Her whole body stiffened beneath Kate’s hands. “Oh God, I’m gonna—”

  She may have been shy about talking, but Rachael came without inhibition. She threw her head back and moaned loudly, so loudly that Kate was slightly concerned that someone else in the building might hear. Her concern wasn’t strong enough to convince her to try and silence that beautiful sound.

  “That’s right, baby,” Kate encouraged as Rachael continued to mewl in pleasure, a string of incoherent words. “Come on my hand. You feel so fucking good on my fingers, Rachael. You’re so tight, so hot.” She never stopped thrusting, determined to get every last bit of pleasure from her partner. “I’ve never fucked a pussy that felt so good before.”

  Rachael got louder, if that were even possible, until finally her cries cut off with a sudden, sharp gasp. She went completely still, then collapsed, boneless, onto the table.

  “Stop,” Rachael whispered. “You’re gonna kill me. Stop, please.”

  With a grin, Kate withdrew her hand from the front of Rachael’s panties. Loath to leave her so soon, she kept her other fingers inside.

  “That was incredible,” Kate said. “You felt incredible.”

  Rachael pushed up from the table and looked back over her shoulder. Her eyes were glazed, full of lazy pleasure. “You’re incredible.”

  Withdrawing, Kate helped Rachael straighten, then turned her around.

  “So did you learn anything?” Kate asked again, holding her in a surprisingly comfortable embrace.

  With a grin full of newfound confidence, Rachael reversed their positions. She pinned Kate against the table and dropped her hands to the front of Kate’s pants. “This lesson isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

  Public Pet

  Cynthia Rayne

  Come on, pretty. It’s time to go out,” Lisa purred. “You’ve been such a good pet by putting all of our things away. Your reward is a walk.” She unfurled the leather leash she used to lead me. It snapped open easily. “Come here.”

  I felt a rush of illicit pleasure at her words. She was actually going to take me outside the comfortable confines of our hotel room and show me off. Lisa and I had played bondage games in the privacy of our own apartment plenty of times, but this was the first time we’d do so in public. I kept my head bowed, my mouth shut, and my legs apart as instructed. When doing a scene, Mistress Lisa was very strict. Deliciously so.

  I still couldn’t believe I was doing this. I’d had fevered fantasies for ages about being put on display, but I was really going to do it. I trusted Lisa completely and I’d confessed this to her when we first got together. We both worked at a law firm in Chicago and she was my boss. We’d fallen into a relationship quite by accident. She told me she could see my desire to submit to her in my eyes. When I was late for a meeting once, she’d taken me in my office and berated me for my negligence. I was rushing to explain myself when she smacked my ass with a file folder. The anger had quickly elevated to sexual arousal. Lisa had watched with a knowing expression as my nipples peaked under my silk shirt and my breathing grew a bit shallow. We’ve been together ever since.

  She fisted a hand in the short dark curls that framed my face. “Where is your head tonight, pet? Take off your shirt. I want to see my property.”

  I immediately complied. I stripped off the black tank top and neatly folded it before I placed it on the bed. I was left in my black bra and the leather miniskirt that my Mistress favored. She slowly walked a circle around me. It was a game we played often. She liked to make me nervous, but tonight I was in awe of her.

  She was dressed in a pair of black leather pants and a red silk shirt. Mistress Lisa was over six feet tall and very thin with long golden blond hair that she kept in a ponytail. Her breasts were barely a mouthful, and I loved to suck them. The hair between her legs was bushy. She smelled musky and sweet at the same time. Mistress reached over and undid the catch on my bra. I knew better than to try to stop it. It fell to the floor.

  She pinched my left nipple, which was already stiff and upright. “Did you know that it’s legal for women to go topless in public in Canada?” She grabbed a breast in each hand, roughly squeezing them.

  I shivered. “No, Mistress Lisa.” I only spoke when asked a direct question.

  “It is. And tonight, I’m going to take you out, just like this. I want everyone to see these ripe breasts. But first,” she said, slapping my right breast just slightly, “I need to get them ready.” She grinned as she shoved a hand in her pocket and pulled out a long silver nipple chain with alligator clips. Mistress Lisa had gotten me accustomed to them. She always liked my nipples clamped and she’d stretched them daily. She pulled my right nipple out and clamped it, then did the same with the left.

  I let out a small yelp. There was some pain involved, but not enough to really hurt. It was exciting more than anything else. I liked how sensitive the clamps made my breasts.

  “There you go, pet.” She smacked both breasts slightly, enjoying the pretty shade of crimson they turned as they bounced. She slid her hand down my side and over my hips. “And we can’t let your pretty pussy go outside all covered up.” She pulled my panties down my legs and reached up between them to smack my pussy lips. “Pets should always be accessible. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Good girl. What are pets for?”

  “Fucking, Mistress.” The instant I said it, I knew it was true. It’s what I had always dreamed of, and Mistress Lisa was the best there was.

  “That’s right. You are such a good girl.” She pulled me close to her and claimed my mouth. She kissed voraciously, as if she were trying to fuck me with her tongue and lips. When I was breathless, she pulled away. “Now, let’s put your collar on.” She took it out of her back pocket and affixed it tightly to my neck. It had a large O-ring in the front that she snapped the leash on. “Remember the rules, pet. Others may look, but no one touches you without my permission. You may only speak when I ask you a question. Pets are for fucking. Not talking. Understand?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Bend over and show me that sweet ass of yours.”

  I obeyed, bracing my hands on my legs and thrusting my behind in the air. She lovingly caressed the smooth white flesh before she brought her hand down sharply. “How does that feel?”

  “Good,” I moaned.

  She smiled with satisfaction as she tugged the leash and I followed behind her. I was nervous and so excited about being seen by others like this. She pulled me down the hallway and into the elevator. It was empty. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. Then she dragged me past the front desk of the hotel. The night manager was on duty and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

  Mistress Lisa decided to have a little fun at his expense. She pulled me along with her to the desk. “My pet and I need more towels in our room.” Lisa played with my right breast, making it jiggle in her palm. “We shower after I fuck her,” she explained. “ So we shower a lot.” Her smile was wolfish.

  “Yes, miss,” the manager said, eyes straying to my breast as Lisa’s talented hand manipulated it, enhancing the pleasure. It was so taut because of the tightly clamped nipple. I was having trouble not making a sound.

  “Thank you,” Mistress Lisa said, pulling me along behind her. “Come on, pet.” She’d found a club near where we were staying called the Velvet Dog. It wasn’t quite a fetish club, but it was fetish friendly. It catered to those people who’d had vanilla sex all of their lives and were too afraid to try something really different. Those who were in the lifestyle were welcome to scene in the club, as long as they let people watch.

  Mistress Lisa had to give a password to the doorman but we were let in without a hassle. Inside, the lights were lowered; the windows were draped with long black velvet curtains. There were candelabras on every table. The music was low and throbbing, the melodies of sex. There were several people scen
ing throughout the room. It smelled of sex. Middle-aged couples sat on long comfortable benches, waiting for someone exciting to join them. Lisa thrived in an environment like this. She was a sleek, predatory cat in a room filled with dozy mice.

  She picked a couple in their late thirties to sit with. The man had been avidly watching us as we entered the room. What is it with men and lesbians? The woman looked nervous, but her eyes kept darting toward us with a hint of excitement.

  “Mind if we join you?” Mistress asked.

  They both nodded and made room for us. “You needn’t scoot over so far. My pet won’t be sitting with us.” She turned her attention to me. “Why is that?”

  “Because I should be on the floor at Mistress’s feet.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because pets don’t have furniture privileges, Mistress.”

  Lisa sat down and pushed the table away from everyone so they could view me between her legs. “My name is Mistress Lisa and this is my little pet. What are your names?”

  “Jane and Scott,” the man answered. It was so obvious that they were fake names. “How long...how long has she been your pet?” He had a big boner in his pants. Disgusting.

  She pulled at the chain on my breasts and I cried out. “A few weeks now. She’s a good little pet pussy that knows her place. In fact,” Mistress said, eyeing the prim and proper wife’s white skirt and matching sweater set, “why don’t you ask this nice lady if she’d like a little head from you, pet?”

  Jane’s eyes widened. “Oh, uh, thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

  I was turned on by the idea of servicing a stranger. It was another first. I was already dripping wet, just feeling the couple’s eyes on me was so terribly exciting. I hoped I could get through my performance without embarrassing myself. I crawled to Jane on all fours and rested my head in her lap. “May I please pleasure you?”

  “You should let her, Jane. My little pet licks pussy three times a day, sometimes more. She’ll give you the best head you’ve ever got.” There were other folks in the club licking and sucking each other. Nudity wasn’t something that was prohibited. “Come on, Jane. What do you say?”

  Her husband nudged her. “It’s okay, honey.”

  Jane blushed. “Well, I guess it would be all right.”

  I smiled and very deliberately licked my lips. I heard Mistress snort with laughter behind me. If I’d done it to her, she would have smacked my ass. I pulled up Jane’s virginal white skirt and parted her thighs. She wore plain cotton underwear.

  “Let me see,” Scott said, pushing the skirt back, exposing his wife further.

  I pulled the panties down and put my hands on her thighs to push them apart. Then I gently pulled her ass forward so that she was wide open to me. She was beautiful, angelic blond hair and white cream cheese thighs. With a sigh, I bent my mouth to her. I lapped at her like it was my job. The small little berry of a clit, I took in my mouth and sucked. She tasted so sweet, almost innocent. She shouted and writhed against me like a wild thing. I bet her husband did a few obligatory tongue strokes and shoved his dick in her. Not me. I was all tongue, all the time. I couldn’t get enough. I licked her to completion, savoring the sweetness of her juices on my mouth and cheeks. I made a big show of wiping her juices from my face and licking my hands clean, like a cat.

  Jane was undone. Her thighs were open, her face was flushed, and she looked a little dazed. “So good,” she whispered quietly. She patted my head.

  “Make her do me,” the husband ordered, going for the zipper on his pants. “Tell her to suck my cock.”

  “Sorry, my pet doesn’t do pricks. She’s strictly for pussy.”

  Scott looked like he was about to get angry, but Mistress Lisa glared at him. “Can I watch you fuck her?”

  “Now, that, I’ll happily do.” Mistress Lisa snapped her fingers. “Take off your skirt and get on the table, pet. Spread yourself like a good girl.”

  I stood up, feeling the couple’s eyes on me as well as some onlookers on the bar. This was my moment. I made a big show of stripping off my skirt and running my hands over the exposed skin. Then I scrambled up on the table, eager for her attention. I lay down on the table with my legs spread. Mistress Lisa took the candelabra from the tabletop and blew out the candles. The wisps of smoke blew over me. She tipped her hand and the heated wax streaked against my tits and my belly. “Oh, how careless of me.”

  I let out a little scream. The wax burned at first, but then it soothed me, forming a warm wall around my flesh. Mistress Lisa began to peel the wax away from my belly, taking the fine little hairs with it. “Do you want one of those candles inside that hungry little pussy of yours?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Yes, Mistress!” She shoved a long, white candle up inside of me. It was warm and thick, but what I really wanted was Lisa’s fingers inside of me. I knew that it wouldn’t happen until I begged for it at home. “Oh! Yes!”

  She found my clit with her expert finger. “Tell me who you worship, pet.”

  “Mistress Lisa!”

  “Whose pussy do you crave?”

  “Yours, Mistress!”

  “Come now!”

  *

  Later when we walked home, Mistress Lisa yanked my chain. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” I was sleepy and sated. I never knew my fantasy would be so satifisying.

  “Such a good pet.” She slapped my ass. “I like this exhibitionist side of you. We may have to move to Canada. I like the idea that others can see you but can’t touch.”

  “Me, too.”

  “We’d have to lobby for complete nudity, though. Your pussy is the best part.”

  “Thank you, Mistress.”

  “You will. As soon as we get home. I’m going to make you lick me until you beg me to stop.”

  “I never will, Mistress. I never will.”

  Transforming Stone

  Karen Perry

  “Damn it!” Tanner Stone cursed as her right bicep bulged. Her knuckles were white. Beads of sweat rolled into her eyes and she blinked rapidly to ease the burning sting, never losing concentration on the barbell clutched in her grip.

  Biting her lip in pain, she felt a wave of disgust at how difficult it was to manage the small, eight-pound weight. She should have been happy that she could move her arm at all; the damn thing had practically been severed.

  She had been going sixty-two miles an hour, ecstatic with 1200cc’s of raw power between her thighs. Her Ninja 2X-10R sport bike felt as if it were an extension of her body, but she had no control over either when suddenly, without warning, a hulking piece of construction machinery careened into her path. The last thing she remembered was screaming for mercy as both she and the bike slid under the biting tread of the machine.

  Life as Tanner knew it, as she had carefully built and arranged it, disappeared in one brutal, life-shattering moment. It was only because of the talented hands of a gifted surgeon that she still had her trembling arm at all. Surgery had saved her limb, but healing had been excruciating. She had lain in the hospital for months on end, just cognizant enough to realize that she should not have survived at all.

  Now, the problem—the thing that had crawled into her gut and gnawed at her—was that her new limitations conflicted horribly with the streak of butch ego that ran deeply through her core. Weakness had no place in her former life. Before the accident, she had been tough, almost invincible. Her body had been honed to perfection. No one messed with her, and the ladies were hers to do with as she pleased. Now there were still times she thought that death would find her.

  The only person who stood in the Grim Reaper’s path, defiantly telling him to fuck off, was Robbie Marks. As rebelliously butch as Tanner, Robbie had initially been Tanner’s competition. Like two snarling dogs, they had traded threats and jibes, defending what they felt were rightfully theirs—the city’s finest femmes. Their mutual love of mot
orcycles finally inspired a truce.

  Robbie had been there the night of the accident, a few paces back on her own Kawasaki crotch rocket. She had watched helplessly as Tanner almost died, unable to do a damn thing but make a phone call. In the hospital, other friends disappeared, but Robbie stayed. She was the one who fed Tanner tiny ice chips and held a straw to her parched, cracked lips. Robbie was the one who knew that she got cold easily and kept the blankets pulled warmly around her.

  Even when closest to death, Tanner had wanted to reject her help. It had been the pain—mind-boggling, soul-shredding pain—that forced her to cling to Robbie instead, but the helplessness was just as excruciating as her injuries.

  As a fellow butch, Robbie had understood that internal conflict. Still, one week before Tanner’s hospital discharge, Robbie announced, “I’m moving in with you. You’re going to need me.”

  “Fuck you! I don’t need anybody,” Tanner snapped. Her right arm and both legs were in casts but she’d be damned before she let anyone play nursemaid.

  “And just who in the hell is going to take care of you? Are you going to let them send you to one of those old geezer places, a nursing home where all the chicks’ tits hang below their belt lines? You can’t go home by yourself.”

  Tanner had been living with the steady drip of morphine in her veins and the fear of death in the pit of her stomach ever since she regained consciousness. She had learned the hard way that no one was indestructible; not even a strong, butch dyke. Robbie was the only person whom she had ever allowed to get close, and she knew she needed her. If it made her look like a “weak-kneed femme,” so be it. She had relented. “I’d like for you to move in. I’ll pay you, of course, with the money from the insurance settlement.”

  Refocusing on the dumbbell in her hand, Tanner forced her arm to obey her command one final time before allowing the barbell to drop to the floor. It clanged loudly against another weight, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was letting go of the heavy burden.