Best S&M, Volume 3 Page 9

  She unzipped her fly and pulled out her cock, saying huskily, “C’mere, slut,” as she grabbed me by the hair and thrust my mouth onto her cock. I shuddered, feeling her deep in my throat, her hands fisted in my hair, fucking my mouth. She reached into me and named that core truth I rail against. I am a slut. I was helpless to ignore it with her dick in my mouth, and that was the point. I spend so much time resisting my own desire; those moments are when I can surrender to it, because she loves it, because it is safe, because I ache to so badly.

  “That’s my slut. I know how much you love getting your mouth fucked by me. This is who you are, slut. A hole aching to be fucked.”

  She thrust into my mouth quickly, grunting her pleasure, and then yanked my mouth off by the hair.

  “Plant yourself on my boot, slut. Get it nice and wet.”

  My eyes lifted and begged her not to make me do this.

  “Get to it, slut,” she said gruffly, no mercy in her eyes.

  I spread my legs and wrapped them around her boot, my cunt spasming as it contacted the leather. I was so ashamed that this turned me on. And so grateful that she made me face it.

  “Ride that boot for me.”

  I thrust onto her boot, tears forming, pleading whimpers sliding out of my mouth.

  “That’s my good slut. That’s it, ride out your pleasure on my boot. Don’t stop riding it, baby. Open your eyes, let me see. You love this, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes. You love being my good little boot slut. You can’t stop until you cum for me. I want your cum on my boot all day, just waiting for your tongue to lick it up tonight.”

  Incoherent begging sounds emerged from my throat as I rode her boot. I knew the rules but I couldn’t form the words. I couldn’t stop fighting this. I battle in my head, every time. That’s the point.

  “That’s my good slut. You love fucking yourself on my boot, don’t you? I can smell you, slut. All day I’m going to smell you on my boot, and know you are mine.”

  My clit jolted, my cunt ached to be filled. Tears rolled down my face. I was ashamed and aroused and so fucking helpless. There was only one way to end this.

  “Please Sir. Please may I cum for you, Sir?”

  “I need you to say it, slut. Tell me you are my slut, and you may cum.”

  I could feel my eyes get huge. There was a lump in my throat. She gripped me by the hair tightly and her voice was ferocious as she said over my whimpers, “Tell me. Tell me who you are.”

  “I am your slut,” I whispered, and her hands released me as I came for her, writhing on her boot, tears rolling down my face, my cunt throbbing. There is no release like tears and orgasm combined, and she doesn’t forget that. She lifted me to my knees and gently licked the tears from my cheeks.

  “Look at yourself,” she said warmly, lifting and turning me to face the mirror. My eyes were wide, face flushed, hair wild. My lipstick showed I’d been sucking cock. The A-line shirt was stretched taut over my large tits and belly, and was so thin you could see my nipples clearly, “slut” written across my chest in red. My skirt had ridden up and my cunt peeked out, glistening. The fishnets had ripped, and the tough boots made me look decidedly queer. She had marked me, her scent enveloping me, her name for me emblazoned on my chest, her cock still on my lips. I am not just a slut, I am her slut, and her actions crystallized that fact. Being her slut makes me powerful.

  She tugged my skirt down slightly and stood behind me, pulling the lock out of her pocket and locking my cuffs together behind my back. I stood tall, and followed her out of the room, strutting, my shoulders back, my boots loud, my head high. I was proud to be seen with her, my handsome butch in leather.

  All day she showed me off. The attention made me dizzy. A tall gorgeous man with chocolate-brown skin, broad shoulders, predatory eyes, and fangs peeking out from his wicked smile, admired my tits and growled in my ear, making my cunt spasm. A gorgeous Asian femme dyke eyed my legs as she talked to Sir quietly. Her boy, a short, square-framed Latina butch, licked her lips and winked at me. Sir kept a hand on me all day, tugging my arms back by the cuffs to push my tits out further, stroking the back of my neck, resting her boot on my thigh as I sat at her feet. Her touch casually claimed me, keeping my arousal high.

  Late in the day, she brought me over to watch a pale redheaded trans-boy black the boots of a gorgeous bear of a man with pale skin, covered in gray fur. She unclipped my wrists, massaged my arms, and locked them together in front of me, sitting me down to watch as she approached the bear to whisper in his ear. He nodded, gesturing to the boy, and they continued to talk, the bear’s eyes grazing my mouth, my thighs, my boots. I was mesmerized by them, watching the boy’s hands work, and when he lay on his belly to lick the bear’s boots, my cunt jolted and my breathing stopped. Sir returned to stand behind me, leaning in to my ear as she pinched my nipples.

  “Cum,” she growled.

  I did, trying to be quiet, my eyes locked on the boy tonguing those boots as I writhed in my chair.

  “That’s my good slut,” she said. “I’m going to enjoy giving you away tonight.”

  My eyes widened. I imagined being given to the bear in front of me, my ass pounded by his cock. Or maybe his boy, using those strong hands to open me up. I could almost feel the vampiric man sinking his teeth into me as he rammed me with his cock. I could see that femme top holding me down for her boy, her nails raking my skin as her boy fisted me. I writhed in the chair, my cunt throbbing. I was trembling, my mind racing from one image to the next, until they all blended together and I met Sir’s eyes, whimpering.

  “Yes, slut. I’m going to offer you around. I’m going to make sure everyone knows how much you need to be fucked. You will be displayed for all to see. Everyone will know what a slut you are.”

  I was going to be displayed, naked in my desire. I shuddered, lowering my gaze. My clit was pulsing, my skin hot and flushed with shame.

  Fear built through dinner. She sat next to me at a crowded table, as I awkwardly attempted to eat with my wrists locked together, watching my face as I thought about saying no, calling it off. I was not sure I could do it. I barely tasted the food, and sat quietly as the table ordered coffee, my hands resting in my lap. Sir leaned over and whispered in my ear.

  “Stroke your clit for me, slut. You may cum as many times as you like, just do not make a sound.”

  I could feel the blush begin, heat racing up my skin as I reached for my clit under the table. I was sure everyone could hear the rings on my cuffs moving as I stroked myself. I gritted my teeth as I came, and could feel tears form as I continued to stroke helplessly. I came two more times before coffee had been drunk, and she told me to stop, dinner was over.

  I was so hungry to be fucked I would have gladly bent over in the lobby just to feel something inside me. Sir took me to the public play space and detached my cuffs so she could put me in the sling. She clipped the cuffs to the sling and there I was, exposed. My skirt had ridden up, and I was spread wide, aching to be plundered. I felt so empty. She stepped back to look at me and shook her head, pulling out her pocket knife. She cut off the shirt, exposing my tits and belly, and then stepped back. It still wasn’t right. She pulled out that very same lipstick and wrote across my broad belly. I couldn’t see it, and I was stuck, there was no way for me to maneuver to read it.

  She pulled her belt from her pants and stepped back, laying sting in waves along my upper thighs. She tapped my cunt with the belt and I yelped. Sir reached for something from her bag, fumbling with it, and then placed it at the mouth of my cunt.

  “Please, Sir,” I whimpered.

  “My slut wants to get fucked, mmm? Not just yet. Don’t you want to know what’s written across that gorgeous big belly of yours?”

  I nodded.

  “It says, ‘I am a slut. Please fuck me.’ That’s what you need, isn’t it? To be fucked. By me, by my friends. That’s what you love, to be spread wide and fucked. Say it for me, and I’ll fuck you, slut.”

  She teas
ed around my opening as she talked. I was holding my breath. She had actually done it. The fantasy I’d had for years. It was going to happen that night. I couldn’t believe she had done it. She pinched my nipple, jolting me out of my reverie.

  “I won’t fuck you til you say it, slut.”

  “Please, Sir. I am a slut. Please fuck me, Sir. I am your slut. Please, Sir. I need to get fucked. Please fuck your slut.”

  The baton slid in. It was cold and excruciatingly hard. My cunt contracted around it, and it was so unforgivingly, amazingly hard. So hard it ached. Once it was in deep, she kept it still.

  “You don’t even need a dick or a hand to come around, do you, slut? You’d come around anything as long as it was hard and deep, wouldn’t you? Alright then, slut. You may cum as much as you want tonight, as long as you make it loud.”

  “Oh god, Sir,” I moaned as I came. “It’s so hard, Sir.”

  “Yes it is, slut. That’s right. And it’s just the beginning.”

  She thrust it into me, and I came again, screaming for her, and it was still there, relentless, so intense that I began to cry.

  “That’s my slut. Cry for me. That’s my good slut. Look up and see.”

  I did. There he was, the sexy man I had seen earlier with the vampire teeth. He growled in my ear and I came again, moaning. He had metal claws on his fingers and they traced over my skin. My eyes locked on his as he played me with them, watching me tremble. The baton slid out of my cunt and I whimpered as he moved towards my feet. His claws traced my thighs, ripped my fishnets, my cunt spasming, empty. Sir was at my ear, her hand stroking my hair.

  “Tell him,” she said.

  I couldn’t. I shook my head, my eyes closed, trembling at the sensations his claws were invoking. His teeth sunk into my thigh, and I came, screaming.

  “Tell him, or he won’t fuck you,” she said.

  I choked on shame as I met his eyes. They looked even more predatory. I felt so naked. I took a deep breath. He took out his cock, and it was beautiful. He put on a condom. I could do this.

  “I am a slut. Please fuck me,” I said softly.

  He rammed into me. His cock was large and pulsing and so alive. My cunt clamped down and he groaned in response. He bent over and drove his teeth into my neck as he shoved into me. I was cumming in waves; it was one big circuit between his teeth and my cunt, building bigger and bigger. He lifted up and glided his teeth down to worry my nipple. I came hard, milking him as he growled. It went on forever it seemed until he raised his head and slipped out of me.

  He moved to stand on my side next to Sir and I felt a slick finger teasing my ass. I looked up and the bear was grinning at me. He was sliding fingerfuls of lube into me and stretching my ass with two fingers.

  “Are you going to say it for me, hmm?” he said, his voice lilting. “Are you an ass slut? I bet you are.”

  He winked at me as his delicious fingers enticed me. I could see his boy stroking him, keeping his dick hard. It suddenly didn’t seem so serious. I looked up at Sir and she was smiling. The butch-femme couple approached, big grins on their faces. I was surrounded by smiling people, all delighted for the opportunity to fuck me. A weight lifted and the words came easily.

  “I am an ass slut. Please fuck me,” I said.

  “I thought you might be,” he quipped, and they all chuckled.

  He gripped my hips, and eased into my ass. He felt amazing. The vampire leaned in and nipped at my neck. The femme stroked my thigh as her boy took my nipple in her mouth. The bear’s boy fondled my other thigh. Sir leaned in and kissed me. I was surrounded by joy as I came. It rippled through me as the bear fucked my ass, and I could feel it gather in my stomach as it ramped up. He pulled out and gestured to his boy, as he moved up, taking off the condom and putting on a fresh one that smelled like mint. He slipped into my mouth at the same moment his boy entered my ass. He held my head still and they fucked me together. I came, screaming and gagging around his cock as it rammed into my throat. My nipples were pinched, hands stroked my skin. I was covered in sex, dripping with it, on display for all. I joyously thrust back against the cock reaming my ass. I felt so lucky. The orgasm washed over me as it built and built and I began to fly, weightless, soaring on pleasure.

  The bear pulled out of my mouth and I could feel myself begin to laugh as my cunt closed on air and my ass clamped down on his boy’s dick. I was surrounded by laughter, we were all laughing as we fucked and kissed and stroked. Everyone was touching and I was the conduit for all that energy, all that connection. Across gender, across orientation, we were sharing pleasure and joy and love.

  “I am a slut! Please fuck me!” I shouted gladly for the whole room to hear as the bear’s boy slipped out of my ass.

  The femme pulled off her nails and slid on a glove, lubing it up. She stroked the edges of my cunt, teasing me with a grin, and then pushed three fingers right in. She leaned in and blew air right onto my clit, smiling as she felt me contract around her fingers. Her thumb reached up to stroke me and I came right there, moaning loudly.

  “Yes!” I yelled.

  She eased four fingers in, no problem now. That insistent rubbing built, concentrating around my sacrum, as she twisted her fingers, spreading them. She tucked her thumb in, working with me to slide her whole hand into my cunt. Her boy stroked my clit as she entered me. My breath stopped. I held Sir’s eyes and melted into them, feeling the energy whirl between my breasts. She was reaching right into me, and it felt like Sir reached down to hold her hand inside me, right there at my sternum.

  Sir smiled, and said, “That’s my good slut.”

  I came, grabbing that fist, screaming, tears streaming out my eyes into my ears. Hands held me, I was cradled and safe and so so full. I looked up and the femme was kissing her boy. The vampire was smiling at me and stroking his cock. The trans-boy was licking the bear’s nipples. Sir smiled proudly down at me and said, “I am so lucky to have you as my slut.”

  Her hand began to move inside me and the intensity grew in my chest. I could feel her pulsing, moving so big inside me. It was suddenly too much, and my leg started cramping. She eased out and I was taken down slowly, allowed to stretch. They took me to a nearby futon. The femme’s boy was sitting there, her cock out, waiting. They seated me upon it, facing the room. She was packing a long thick dick and it reached into me, pressing insistently against my cervix as I squirmed on it. Her hands reached around to pinch my nipples and her mouth licked and bit at my neck. I writhed on her dick. It was so long, so relentlessly there. My muscles were exhausted, I was too tired to lift up, just stuck there, impaled on her cock.

  Sir pulled out her dick and teased my mouth. I wanted her inside me more than anything.

  “Say it for me,” she said.

  “Please fuck me, Sir. I am your slut, Sir. Oh god please, Sir. Please fuck my mouth, Sir. I’m your cocksucking slut, Sir. Please Sir. I am your slut, Sir.”

  She slapped my cheek with her cock.

  “Tell me that again.”

  “I am your slut, Sir.”

  “Tell me that you are proud to be my slut,” she insisted.

  I came, riding the boy’s cock, squirming, moaning. Her hands began lifting my hips, thrusting me onto her, moving me as she growled.

  “I am proud to be your slut, Sir. Please fuck your slut, Sir,” I moaned.

  Sir grabbed me by the hair and rammed her cock into my mouth. I gagged, and she kept fucking me, smiling down at me, telling me to choke on her cock. Helpless, I was filled, my mouth moved by Sir for her pleasure, the boy moving my cunt to please herself. I flew higher, holes filled, senses overwhelmed, proud to be exactly who I am. Her slut.

  Later, my mouth on her boot, belly on the floor, surrounded and stroked by those who helped her fuck me, I tasted my own cum on the leather and was certain that I got exactly what I asked for, precisely what I wanted. I lifted my head and smiled up at her.

  “That’s my good slut,” she said gruffly, and stroked my cheek.


  I am so lucky to be hers.

  Halloween

  By

  Cecilia Tan

  You wouldn’t believe the stuff they do around here in the name of Halloween. Actually it isn’t even Halloween. It’s anytime. You walk into The Strand for their supposed goth night any Wednesday and you’ll find stupid shit like fake cobwebs hanging above the bar and a lame little fog machine trying to make it “spooky.” Spooky is a good name for a dog, not the atmosphere for goths. Or maybe it’s just me. Twenty-one years old and jaded as fuck. Maybe I’m like those super-pious Christians, for whom Christmas is ruined by overcommercialism and hokey dumb crap for kids. Same thing, right? Halloween should be the goth Christmas, except who cares anyway?

  So it was that on Halloween night I was at The Strand, sneering at a bunch of the newcomers who were slumming with the Halloween theme. Let’s go hang out with the spooky vampire chicks. Fuck off. Go play pool or watch a ballgame or something. I was all in white to confuse the fuck out of them – the dress looked like a little girl’s first communion dress, not like a wedding gown. Simpler, smaller. I wore a white wig. Some tourist asked me what I was supposed to be and I was going to tell him “a goth, fuckface” but for some reason I decided to take the high road, and told him I was Cathy from Wuthering Heights. He replied he’d never seen that show and I wanted to beat him over the head with a book. Any book would do, but how about a nice fat one like a leatherbound edition of Moby Dick? Yeah, so I have weird fantasies, get used to it.

  Micah was there that night, and Jeana, and Ash. All people I was desperately tired of. I resolved to spend most of the night on the dance floor where idiots wouldn’t talk to me and I wouldn’t have to listen to Ash mooning over some girl he’d never touch. But I ended up at the bar on the far side of the floor instead, nursing a Grand Marnier and pushing some stupid plastic spiders around on the bartop.