Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Introduction

  BASEBALL CAP

  FIRST RIDE

  A SLAP IN THE FACE

  HOUSEWIFE

  CALL ME SIR: A SMUTTY PULP FICTION TALE

  ALL OF ME

  TAKING DIRECTION

  BLACK HANKY

  SPANKING BOOTH

  THE CRUELEST KIND

  GOING THE DISTANCE

  SPOILED

  GENTLEMAN CALLER

  THREE WEEKS AND TWO DAYS

  COUNTING LOVE

  PURGE

  A PUBLIC SPECTACLE

  THE KEYS

  COMING OF AGE

  NOT WITHOUT PERMISSION

  FEATHERS HAVE WEIGHT

  STRONG

  UNWORTHY AS I AM

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  ABOUT THE EDITOR

  Copyright Page

  For my girl

  INTRODUCTION

  What is BDSM?

  I thought this would be an easy question to answer. After all, I’ve been active in the kinky and queer worlds for many years, I’ve been reading erotica since I first got my hands on My Secret Garden by Nancy Friday when I was twelve years old, I’ve been writing erotica for longer than I’ve been sexually active, and I obsessed over lesbian erotica while I was coming out as queer in the late 1990s. But when I began sorting through the stories, reading nearly a hundred submissions, I started questioning what constituted BDSM in this specific context of lesbian erotica.

  It is an acronym, multilayered, as some of its letters have multiple meanings: the BD is for bondage and discipline, the SM is for sadism and masochism, and the DS in the middle is also for domination and submission.

  But it is more than that. As my definition widened, I started to see it as including all kinds of kink in general, the dozens of fetishes that get us hot and get our engines revving, our blood pumping. Certainly it includes good ol’-fashioned leather and whips and chains, the classic dungeon scenes like “A Public Spectacle” by D.L. King. And certainly it includes water sports, as in “The Keys” by Anna Watson, or vomiting from intense cocksucking, as detailed in “Purge” by Maria See. And I believe it also includes queering some classic domination and submission dynamics, like the femme daddy as in Alysia Angel’s “Feathers Have Weight,” and genderqueer boi submissives earning their right to flag black in Sassafras Lowrey’s “Black Hanky.” But how about a motorcycle, and a flogging and fucking on the back of a bike, as in Wendi Kali’s “First Ride”? What about being bound and beaten with a hat, in Miriam Zoila Pérez’s story “Baseball Cap”?

  Certainly domestic discipline, domination, and submission, which are some of my personal favorite fantasies, in stories like “Gentleman Caller” by Sossity Chiricuzio, “Spoiled” by Shawna Elizabeth, “Housewife” by Gigi Frost, and “Counting Love” by August InFlux. I am always a sucker for beautifully described gender play, gender still being one of the things that gets me the most hot, and the conscious use of gender to heal and heighten intensity gets me going like nothing else can. The gender play and mindfulness in “Strong” by Xan West is exactly the kind of piece I mean.

  Threesomes can certainly be broadly kinky, but are especially full of BDSM when they involve some sort of power play, or a technology service submissive as in “Going the Distance” by Elaine Miller, or a public humiliation scene at a bar like “Taking Direction” by Vie La Guerre. Sensation play seems key to me in BDSM: the stimulation from subtle to bold, from pinpricks to knives to floggers or even skilled bare-assed spankings, as in Dusty Horn’s “Spanking Booth.” Sensation can be used as a healing tool, too, as in BB Rydell’s story “Call Me Sir,” which takes a different approach to the aftermath of police violence. Face slapping can be a hard limit or the most delicious sensation one craves, as Rachel Kramer Bussel’s protagonist in “A Slap in the Face.” Restraints, too, are imperative in BDSM, be they mental or psychological bondage such as in “The Cruelest Kind” by Kiki DeLovely or actual restraints on bondage furniture like a Saint Andrew’s Cross in “Coming of Age” by Dilo Keith, a leather bench in “All of Me” by Amelia Thornton, or a sawhorse in “Three Weeks and Two Days” by Meridith Guy. Or it could be a combination of sensation, domination, discipline, and bondage, as described in “Unworthy As I Am” by Elizabeth Thorne.

  I’m thrilled to have immersed myself in the kinky BDSM lesbian erotica submissions that came through my in-box and to have emerged with twenty-three stories with a huge range of sensation, discipline, bondage, topping, bottoming, submission, power, sadism, masochism, surrender, and fetish. This collection includes writers whose names you will probably recognize, writers who are new to publishing erotica, and quite a few who have never been published before.

  As with many things, the more I look closely at BDSM, the harder it is for me to bring my flogger down on it and define precisely what I think it means. But I do think this anthology begins to explore the depth and breadth of experiences that this kinky queer world has to offer.

  Sinclair Sexsmith

  New York City

  BASEBALL CAP

  Miriam Zoila Pérez

  From the moment we walked into the hotel room and I caught a glimpse of that wide cherry red wooden headboard, I knew exactly where I wanted her later. Our pre-dinner shower, our stroll around historic Savannah, our leisurely dinner and dessert were all colored by my building desire, my thoughts about what I would do with her when we got back to the room.

  The excitement quietly builds, and I choose not to share my plans, knowing the surprise and giving of orders will turn her on. We get back to the room, giddy and full with each other. We play around on the bed, making out, teasing. I take her shirt off, and the sight of her full breasts pouring out of the top of her black lace bra sends a spark down to my crotch. I let her climb on top of me and release the bra clasp with one hand. She straddles my torso, upright on her knees, and I look up at the headboard behind me, picturing her splayed out against it. I cup her soft breasts in my hands, gently teasing her nipples to erection with my thumb and forefinger.

  I ask her if she can grab onto the headboard. She grins at me, slight confusion in her eyes building to excitement as she realizes where my plans might take us. She easily grabs the top of it, arms wide, hands gripping the flat side of the wood framing the headboard. Perfect. Stay where you are, I tell her as I slide out from under, catching the scent of her sweetness as I pass between her legs. Keep your back turned and take off your pants, I tell her. She likes it when I give directions—obeying without a word, stripping down to just her boy-cut white underwear. They ride her wide sexy hips perfectly.

  The sight of her half-naked body, her smooth ass and gentle hips, excites me more. I pause for a moment, taking her in, savor her waiting and wanting. She’s a good girl—already positioned back with her hands on either side of the wide headboard, just her bra and underwear, eyes tightly shut. I gather my props, finding my weathered Nationals baseball cap on the floor by the bed next to my brown silk tie.

  I climb up on the bed, easing up behind her and onto my knees. Even with her eyes closed she feels me coming closer, and her breath quickens in response. She sighs excitedly as I drag the silk tie across her breasts. I wrap it around her torso, running it along her body gently at first and then rougher, teasing her nipples back to attention with it.

  I fold the tie up and gently hit her with it. I’ve never hit her before, so it feels charged with the electricity of newness. I drag it along her back and ass. I swing the tie faster, making a gentle whipping sound as it hits her backside. She moans, sucks in her breath.

  I move the tie up, wrapping it around her wrists and bringing her hands together in the middle of the headboard, still gripping the top with her fingers. I know she likes to be restrained, and seeing her there—captive—makes my clit throb. I pick up my hat and start gently hitting her with it, first one side of her ass and then the other. Picking up confidence and speed, I hit her harder. She moans with pleasure, eyes closed, ass swaying. I straddle her from behind, pulling her ass down onto me. I rub my hands along her body, thrust up against her, hinting at what both she and I know is coming. We move together. I spread open her ass cheeks, grinding and pounding against her.

  I grab her by the hair and pull her head back toward me, biting her neck. I whisper in her ear—stay right here—and wrench myself away from her. Climbing off the bed, I find my black leather case lying next to it in our jumble of clothes, grabbing my cock and harness. I take off my pants and underwear but leave on the button-down shirt I picked out to wear for dinner. I take my sweet time slipping the cock on, knowing that her excitement and anticipation are swelling, growing.

  Finally I roll the condom on, climb back onto the bed where she is still waiting, hands restrained above her head, leaning against the headboard, ass in the air. I pull down her underwear and toss them off the bed. I can see her wetness; she’s dripping from our play, from the anticipation of my cock inside her.

  I straddle her ass, spreading my knees, and tease her wet lips with the tip of my cock. She moans quietly, arching her ass up toward me, and I enter her, swiftly, and a load moan escapes her lips. I thrust deep inside her, movi
ng my body against hers, forcing her chest flat up against the headboard, my weight sandwiching her.

  My cock is deep inside and I can feel her slick, wet pussy trembling. I grab onto the headboard on either side of her restrained wrists, bracing myself, pounding into her even harder. I grunt, feeling my orgasm building, overtaking me as I cry out, coming into her, out of breath.

  FIRST RIDE

  Wendi Kali

  I don’t remember the last time I took someone for a ride on my motorcycle. As I finished up the oil change on the last car of the day, I recalled the way her eyes lit up when I told her about my bike while I walked her home after our date last week. We had been dating for a few months, but since it was the end of winter, I hadn’t mentioned the bike until that night. Winters in Oregon don’t exactly allow for casual rides due to the unpredictable weather, so my bike had been weatherized and was sitting quietly in my garage.

  Sara had only been with one other woman before me, so we talked a lot about the things she wanted to experiment with sexually. I was, of course, open to anything. During one of those late-night conversations, the subject turned to BDSM. She confessed that she had always wanted to be chained up, flogged, then fucked with a strap-on.

  “You’ve never been fucked with a strap-on?” I asked.

  “No. My first girlfriend wasn’t much into toys,” she explained. “I asked her several times if she would just use them on me, but she had absolutely no interest in it.”

  “Being chained up and flogged requires a lot of trust from the person in the chains. I would be happy to indulge your fantasies when you feel that level of trust with me,” I replied in my most gentlemanly manner.

  She felt comfortable and trusted me enough to talk about it, which led me to believe that she trusted me enough to let me help make her fantasy come true.

  After telling her about the bike during our last date, she confessed another fantasy:

  “I’ve always wanted to ride on one, but never trusted anyone enough to actually do it.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yeah. I mean, you’re putting your life in someone else’s hands when you get on one of those.”

  “You have a point. You’re not the one in control if you’re on the back of the bike.”

  “Exactly. But, on the other hand, the danger of it gets me, well, excited,” she said, looking up at me shyly.

  She held my gaze for a moment to make sure I understood her.

  “I see. You know, I would be happy to take you out on a slow and gentle ride through the country this weekend,” I replied.

  “Hmmm. I don’t really have the patience for slow and gentle. I’m more of a fast-and-rough kind of woman, if you know what I mean,” she said.

  Looking at this beautiful woman standing before me in a low-cut dress, knee-high black leather boots, and black leather wrist cuffs, it took me a moment to think about what she had just said. Suddenly it clicked. Gazing at her bright red lips as they turned upward into a shy smile, I realized that she was looking for more than one kind of ride.

  “I know exactly what you mean. I’ll pick you up at two on Saturday,” I said.

  She smiled that beautiful smile that had already turned this hard, old butch to mush, then kissed me hard and hungrily before saying good night.

  When I finally arrived at her place to pick her up, she greeted me at the door. “Are you ready for your first ride?” I asked.

  Giggling nervously, she replied with a barely audible “Yes.”

  After leading her out to the bike, I stood behind her for a moment as she prepared to mount the powerful machine. The combination of her black leather boots, tight-fitting jeans, and the black mesh riding jacket I had just handed her made my blood race to all the right places.

  Before she slid her helmet over her long, dark curls, I walked up behind her, slipped my arm around her waist, and whispered in her ear, “It’s okay, baby. Just hold on tight and Daddy will take good care of you.”

  I could feel her body tremble as she leaned back against me and whispered, “Yes, Daddy.”

  After lowering her foot pegs, I climbed on and pressed the ignition button. The bike fired up with a roar. I extended my hand to her. She grabbed it for balance and climbed on behind me, wrapping those beautiful legs around me and the machine. She snuggled up as closely as she could against my back, slid her arms around me, and held on tightly.

  I started off slowly through the quiet neighborhood streets so she could get a feel for the bike and how it rode. After a few minutes I could feel her begin to relax a bit, so I headed for the winding country road that would lead us to a secluded spot I had eyed many times while out riding.

  The weather was perfect; the sun was shining and the breeze was gentle. When we reached the open road, I pulled back on the throttle and let the bike speed up a bit. Her grip around my waist went tight, then began to relax again. I patted her hands with one of mine, letting her know she was okay.

  With each curve of the road, she became more and more comfortable with the ride and slowly let her hands travel down to my legs. I felt her pause for a moment when she felt my cock under the denim. She squirmed a little in her seat before squeezing and stroking it.

  I could feel her want as she gripped and stroked the inside of my thighs. She may have been scared, but it was clear that fear combined with the feel of my cock was making her hot and needy. I grabbed her hands and returned them to my stomach, then patted them as if to say, Patience, baby. Patience.

  We were close to the spot I’d chosen, which was good because I was ready to give her what she so badly wanted.

  Coming out of the last curve, I turned off the road and into the field, parking under an old tree. We were secluded from the road in the middle of nowhere.

  After climbing off the bike, I told her to take her jacket off, and being the good girl she is, she obeyed. While watching her, I slowly removed mine and hung them both on the handlebars.

  She began to walk toward me, but I stopped her by holding up my hand.

  “Take off your shirt,” I ordered in a deep, commanding voice. Daddy had taken over.

  She thought about protesting for a moment, but the demanding look I gave her led her to do as she was told.

  “Now turn around and put your hands on the seat of the bike.”

  The sight of her long, dark curls flowing down her creamy back and gently touching the waist of her jeans made my pants feel a bit tighter as my clit grew harder and pushed against my cock. I walked up behind her and pushed her soft, dark hair to the side, unclasped her bra, and slowly pushed it down her arms while I leaned into her. When she felt my cock push against her ass, she pushed back against it hungrily.

  Reaching into my saddlebags, I pulled out the wrist cuffs and chains. The rattle of the chains made her gasp with anticipation. I thought back to what she’d said on our last date about not having much patience for slow and gentle and used this little piece of information to tease and taunt her while reaching around her to slowly put her wrists in the cuffs.

  Attaching the chains to the cuffs, I locked one of her beautiful wrists to the back of the bike and the other to the front. With her arms stretched out to her sides and her hair flowing gently in the breeze, she was a vision of beauty. Her back was my canvas.

  I slid my hands around the curve of her hips and up to her belly—her skin was incredibly soft. My want for her grew as I grabbed her hips and pulled her hard against my cock.

  She pushed against me and moaned a barely audible “Please, Daddy? Please fuck me.”

  “No,” I growled in her ear while unbuttoning her pants and sliding my hands inside to her soft mound.

  I could feel her warmth and wetness begging me to explore as she squirmed.

  “Don’t move,” I ordered. She stopped with a whimper. The look of agony on her face was my prize.

  “Plea—”

  “Shhh. No.”

  Gliding my finger across her clit, I found her sweet center and slowly separated her lips to find her drenched. Dipping one finger into her warm wetness, I felt her knees buckle slightly. My grip around her waist grew tighter. She moaned even louder as I slid my finger back across her clit, covering it in her juices.