From Top to Bottom Read online

  “You disappoint me.” Her tone is all hues of black promise.

  Oh, now here’s a talent that lay undiscovered, babe.

  Shay turns to me and takes the reprimand out on my stomach with her fist. “Allow us to make it up to you, Mistress.”

  I was tense and ready for it. She didn’t get the response she wanted, so she hits me again, before her palm connects with my face and hammers my head against the post. I see a smattering of stars.

  “Lanza.” She addresses the fourth stranger tersely.

  “Yes, Mistress.” Lanza steps forward and bows her head.

  I’m amused to see someone submit to the woman who kneels for me, but I have to concede she seems to possess a natural talent for this particular position.

  “Come to me, on your knees.” Lanza does as instructed, and crawls faultlessly to her Mistress. She pulls Lanza’s head between her legs and closes her eyes for a moment as the woman’s tongue connects with her clit. She looks at Shay with hard, indecent eyes. “So make it up to me.”

  Shay nods and turns to me. “Who the fuck do you think you are, you English punk? Treating our Mistress as you have? Pretending to be a Master—when you’re clearly a boi.”

  Ah, there it is. The word that has the power to melt me. Everyone in the room sees it in my eyes. The ones holding me must surely feel me soften in their grip.

  “Now you get to find out what our Mistress lets us do to bois like you.”

  Shay nods to the two holding me and I’m shoved to my knees. She unzips her jeans and pulls out a dildo. I’m thankful it’s nowhere near the size I used earlier.

  “Fuck if you think you’re sticking that thing in my mouth.”

  She laughs and I can feel the sharp tip of a knife under my chin. In my peripheral vision, I see the Mistress’ eyes fixed on me while Lanza does her best to service her. Am I going to be jealous when she makes her come?

  Shay slaps me hard to bring my attention back to her and the dildo she’s proudly produced.

  “I’ll cut your mouth open if you don’t let me in willingly.”

  Shay’s got an aggressive energy about her that makes me think that, although right now we’re playing, maybe she’s done that to someone before me. I hesitate and she presses the knifepoint a little harder. My lips part, she grabs my chin and rams her cock into my mouth. I choke, and try to pull away, but my head hits the wooden post again, and I feel a little dizzy. I can’t breathe around it, and saliva’s oozing unattractively out of the corners of my mouth as my tongue struggles to make room for the brutish face-fucking she’s forcing on me.

  I can still see her, with Lanza stationed between her legs, and she’s smiling cruelly, clearly enjoying the show. I wonder if she’ll ever be able to look at me the same again. Will this change how you view your Master? This wasn’t what you signed up for when you put pen to paper on our contract.

  Shay pulls out and I’m hauled to my feet. She puts her left hand on my shoulder, and digs her thumb hard into my collarbone. She pounds her right fist into my gut, giving me just enough time to inhale and tense before each blow forces the breath right out of me. I count ten before my head’s hanging just a little and I’m hoping for a break.

  “Enough. Bring her to me.”

  Shay looks a tad disappointed, but releases her grip and the two others drag me over to the bed.

  She pushes Lanza away, seizes a fistful of my hair and draws me close to the intoxicating smell of her delicious cunt. “Do you want to taste me… boi?”

  I’m instantly a mess. To hear Shay say it was hot enough, but for her… is she my Mistress now? For the word to emanate from her mouth, in that slow, seductive and certain tone, that’s just not fair. Don’t answer. If I allow myself to speak, I’ll be at her feet, worshipping the ornately stencilled leather boots I so admired earlier this evening.

  She slaps me and my head snaps to the side. She’s got a solid hit for such a delicate frame.

  “If you’re reluctant to serve me, boi, I’ll just have to beat you until you drop to your knees.” She caresses my face before slapping me again. “Strip her down.”

  I flash a warning look at her. We discussed this. I like to be beaten with my clothes on. I’m not that kind of pain-whore. Her hand fixes around my throat as she sees my attempt to communicate with her.

  “You’re not paying for this, so you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  Another firm slap before my jacket’s pulled from me and my t-shirt is torn off. Her mouth opens slightly. Despite being in role, she can’t help it. She loves my body. She’s always wanted a muscular woman, and never had one. I’m being pulled around and everything is strained as I writhe in my captor’s clutches. Most of it, I’m just tensing for show to please her. “String her up.”

  Whoever these friends are, they know what they’re doing with rope. I’m tied facing the same wooden post, my hands pulled high and fastened tight. My feet are just touching the floor. I feel her breath on the back of my neck and her warm, familiar touch on my hips. She bites down hard and I pointlessly try to squirm away, even though I know there’s nowhere to go. Even though there’s nowhere I want to go.

  “You can scream, boi. No one will hear you through these old stone walls.”

  “You won’t hear me screaming, lady.”

  She laughs softly against my shoulders. “You will scream for me, boi. I guarantee it.”

  Her voice and the words she speaks send a chill up my spine. “No one’s made me scream before.”

  She whispers into my ear so her friends can’t hear, “No one had made you come from fucking you before, but that happened.”

  I can’t resist a smile. The lady has a point. There’s been lots of ‘never befores’ in the past half year.

  She moves away and I miss her instantly. The first strike of the cat surprises me and pitches me forward. She doesn’t pace them, just delivers swing after swing that assaults my bare back, and sends me higher than I’ve ever been on drugs in my twenties. The cat thuds into my muscles and nestles there comfortably, before she strips it away only to bring it down again. I’m oblivious to anything else in the room now. Could be, my lady’s friends have left already. Nothing else exists, nothing but the exacting embrace of the leather around my body, wielded so expertly by my novice Mistress. Some things you just can’t teach, some things are simply natural talents.

  I count 129 before she stops. I know she’s high like me, high from the power she feels in her hands, hot from watching how my skin reddens and welts under her labours. As the lashes hit, I heard the lusty breaths escape from her mouth. I’ve recently discovered there’s nothing on earth like it, the first time you beat the one you love. Not just a bottom, not merely a submissive or a slave for the night, or the length of a contract, but the one you can see forever with. The one who really sees you, all your dark and your light, and embraces it. Welcomes it. Reflects you like a mirror.

  “Turn her around.”

  Her friends must still be here. And I don’t fight now. The fight has left the building on the tail of the hot air currents produced from my Mistress’s whip. I can stand but my body feels incorporeal, and yet so deeply and viscerally connected to my mind. She’s done that for me. No one’s ever done that for me.

  My hands are secured above my head, my chest and stomach muscles pulled taut. Her hands caress me, follow the curves and rips. I ache to feel her inside me, but I can see she’s not sated. She’s nowhere near done with that whip. I know that yearning, it lives and breathes inside me every day.

  “Look at me.”

  Oh God, there’s nowhere I’d rather look, babe. That’s the look I’ve been searching my entire existence for. It’s the same look I know is in my eyes when I beat her. And those light blue eyes, accented as they are with black liner, scream sex at me, and promise the wild, obscene intimacy I’ve craved my whole life. I don’t think I can adequately verbalise how weightless she makes me feel when she looks at me that way.

  She star
ts again with the whip, and I know immediately that it won’t be long before she draws the scream she demands. The beatings I’ve had in the past have been concentrated on my back, con clothes. I’ve never been beaten naked before, and never on my breasts. Is this what being scared feels like? Am I scared I can’t take what she has to give? Will she be disappointed in me if I can’t? Will she think less of me as her Master?

  The lashes pull me back into the room, back to her, back to her eyes. We connect the way we do when I bring us to the core, the truth of what we are together, as Master and slave. It was risky disclosing this fantasy to her, it could change everything, but she can’t fake that look in her eyes. She’s discovering something within herself she never knew existed. I can tell she’s a little unsure about what she’s doing, but she’s obviously enjoying herself nonetheless.

  Every lash is a stroke of profound, unconditional love and they rip right through me, tearing the screams from my lungs. She’s smiling, all smug and self-satisfied that she got what she wanted, something I’d never given anyone else. We came together in our fourth decade on this planet, when the ‘firsts’ are not as exciting as they were in our twenties. The first cervical screening. The first cholesterol test. The first time someone in their twenties tells you they see you as their mom instead of their sister, or a potential love interest. We’ve had the first kiss, the first fuck, the first ‘I love you.’ It’s a time of my life when I thought there was nothing I could say that I hadn’t said before. But I was so wrong. This is a new forever, with plenty of firsts. And here we are, in my first multi-player situation as a boi, and I’m screaming for my Mistress. Another first.

  Her lips are on mine and it’s my lover’s kiss, but it’s rougher, harder, dominant. She forces her tongue inside my mouth. It’s a violent violation, and it takes my breath away. She’s never kissed me like this before, with such a power-soaked intensity. She drapes the cat around my neck and pulls me closer.

  “What were you saying about your screams, boi?” There’s a self-congratulatory tone in her voice that’s so damn sexy. I try to look away but she takes hold of my chin and makes me face her. “You are like the Cascate del Serio down here, are you not?” Her other hand presses against my hot mess of a pussy through my jeans.

  Yeah, you’re right. You’ve made me soak like a waterfall down there.

  “Women like you are all the same, always in control and yet, secretly wanting to be controlled, taken against their will, subjugated.”

  She unbuckles my belt and her graceful hands open my jeans, seductively slowly, and I can’t help but watch. She knows I love to watch her undress me. I love to observe her delicately handling me. She nods to the side and there are other hands on me. My boots and jeans are discarded.

  She comments on my lack of underwear. “Filthy whore.”

  Shay and Lanza pull my legs wide apart, straining my body from my bound wrists, and I can feel their hot breath close to my sodden lips. She presses her fingers to my vulnerable and completely exposed hole and laughs as she slips three inside me a little too easily for me to look convincingly affronted and abused. I look down as she pulls out, and sticks her fingers into Lanza’s open, waiting mouth. Her other hand fills me, before pulling out and doing the same to Shay. She keeps her eyes fixed on me while she fucks their faces with a mix of her hands and my slick juices.

  I’m desperate for her to be back inside me, and she knows it. She loves fucking me, another first for her, pillow queen that she used to be. She’s like a kid in a candy store, a very grown-up kid, playing grown-up games, in a filthy candy store for deviants. I know she won’t be able to resist much longer. I think she can see my arrogance and maybe she considers denying me for a moment. But it’s a fleeting moment, one of those ‘cut your nose off to spite your face’ kind of thoughts that don’t last all that long. She’s back and fucking me hard, crushing my body between her and the unforgiving wooden post. Her hand doesn’t feel quite so small now it’s inside me, and she’s straight into the rhythm that we recently discovered makes me come like a fire hose. Yeah, another first. She’s got me swearing and grinding down on her hand unashamedly. Fuck the scene right now, my body has no choice but to respond to her. Her other hand fists in my hair and drives my head back against the post. Her mouth is all over me, nibbling and biting at my breasts, my abs, my shoulders. I mark easily and the more she sees that, the more she wants to see. She’s acting like a wolf marking her territory, and I’m glad she’s using her teeth. I can feel there are other tongues, teeth and hands on my lower body, but they barely register. It almost feels like she owns them all and she’s all over me. No one else figures.

  “Come for me, boi.”

  I wouldn’t have asked for permission. I’m not that kind of boi. And yet, her words, her voice, add the extra that’s been missing in the years before her, though those memories are fading fast and it already feels like we’ve been together for years.

  My orgasm escapes me in a rush of curses and come. I thrash in my bondage with the welcome release. She holds me tight to her as my body submits entirely to her will. Slowly, she pulls her hand from me and I can hear Shay savouring her Mistress’s hard earned prize.

  My Mistress’s cohorts carefully take me down from the post, carry me to the bed, lay me down, and drape a silk blanket over my body. I hear the door open and close, and know we’re finally alone.

  My lover crawls under the blanket and snuggles in beside me.

  “Tell me another one…”

  Taking the Lead

  Lauren Jade

  I stood at the vanity in our bathroom and rolled the snug, slinky fabric of my dress down over my hips and adjusted the hem to lay right above my knees. The dress was Steph’s favorite—sleek, low cut, and jet-black. Turning to check my profile in the mirror, I admired how the dress hugged my curves and pushed my breasts up and together, making them look a good cup size larger than they actually were. Some call it false advertisement. I call it being ingenious. My silhouette was smooth—nothing out of the ordinary to see here. I adjusted the silicone cock that was pressed against my inner thigh under my smoothing, suck-it-in, no-panty-line underwear. After swiping on a fiery red lipstick my mother would not have approved of, I gave my long black hair one last brush, flipped off the bathroom light, and closed the door behind me.

  Trotting down the stairs, black stilettos in hand, I saw Steph standing in front of our large foyer mirror adjusting her bowtie. We’d been together almost four years—since just after I graduated from college. I still couldn’t control my smirk and the flurry of butterflies in my stomach when I saw her. She turned to face me when my weight made the floorboards squeak, running her hand through her short blonde hair.

  “You look nice,” I said, smiling and sitting down on the bottom step to strap on my shoes, careful not to let my dress ride up and reveal what else I was strapping on. She was incredibly handsome. In a white button-down dress shirt, grey slacks, and dusty blue suspenders and bowtie she was the sexy tomboy that I knew could always make me go weak in the knees. Her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing the bottom portion of the colorful Japanese-themed tattoo sleeve on her left arm. She tucked her hands into her pockets, and I wondered if she did it on purpose because as she stretched the fabric over her pelvis, I noticed a faint bulge. She was packing as well. I felt my face flame and turned my focus to the buckle of my shoe. I could have sworn I caught her grin out of the corner of my eye.

  I stood, smoothing my dress back down over my thighs.

  “I love this dress on you,” she said, smirking and swaggering over to me. She grabbed my waist in her hands and slid them down over my hips.

  “I know,” I quipped, running my pointer finger up and down underneath one of her suspenders.

  She grabbed my wrist and pinned it behind my back, leaning in close to me. “I love it more when it’s on the ground,” she whispered. Her hot breath on my neck shot a tingle down my spine. Her other hand moved from my hip across my
thigh. I quickly grabbed it and put it back by her side, safely away from my secret. She took a step back looking shocked, eyed me and released my wrist.

  I was abruptly nervous. She could take me right then for batting her hand away, and I knew I would let her. I wanted to keep this secret I wore under my dress, and to see how this fantasy of mine was going to play out, but cat and mouse was not a game frequently acted out in our house. I bit my lip and played coy, brushing past her and picking up my black clutch from the entry table. “We wouldn’t want to be late,” I said in my best sultry voice.

  Her cutting glance turned soft and she smirked at me, pulling the car keys from her pocket and walking toward me. “You’ll regret that later,” she growled as she ran her hand roughly across my ass. She opened the door and started down the stoop stairs, clicking the car unlocked.

  I breathed a sigh of relief—my secret was safe for now—and I followed her out, locking the door behind me.

  We were headed to a wedding. Our friends Alicia and Sam had been planning their elegant affair at a South Nashville music venue for more than a year. Even though Steph always asserted that she wasn’t the marrying type, I could’ve sworn I saw her tear up just a little bit during the vows when she reached over to squeeze my hand.

  “Marriage is both parties giving one hundred percent,” the robed pastor was saying into a microphone. “It’s an equal partnership of two people working together, neither one dominating the other.”

  “Unless you’re into that,” Steph whispered, glancing in my direction. I kept my eyes on the couple at the front, but my stomach did a somersault thinking about the relationship Steph and I had behind closed doors. Usually our sessions left my wrists raw and my ass striped pink. I got off on having my power taken from me, and Steph got off on putting me in my place. I shifted in my seat and crossed my legs, enjoying the pressure the dildo was putting on me.

  The reception was dimly lit and smelled like cocktails. We sat at a round table with two other couples. Wedding food is never stellar, and I pushed my asparagus around my plate while I sipped a glass of white wine.