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  Amanda tugs on the leash, and my mind bounces back into the present. There is no place to hide. I can’t move my head to escape her hot, brown stare, so I close my eyes. I am conscious of myself inside my body and of each passing second. The moment becomes very long, and I silently beg her to resolve it for me.

  “I won’t be the fall guy for you, girl. You’ll say it. Watch.” Amanda gets up and leads me to the window, keeping the leash short and tight. We look out over the roofs, onto streets bustling with Sunday, Chinatown commerce. “Who are you afraid of? Them? You afraid of what they’d say? Or is it your friends, hmm? Afraid they wouldn’t approve of your politics?” Amanda is stroking my hair. I feel her warm breath in my ear as she whispers to me. She hasn’t let go of the leash. It’s beginning to get dark, and lights go on in the building across the alley. I can see my neighbors watching TV and preparing dinner. I stand naked, collared, peering through the thin curtains.

  “Amanda, the neighbors...they’ll see.” I hear myself. I sound ridiculous. Amanda begins to laugh. She sounds delighted. She swings me around to face her; the look on her face is pure evil. She reaches over, flicks on a lamp, and yanks on the curtain. The flimsy rod falls easily out of the brackets. We stand framed in a pool of light over Canal Street. Amanda holds the leash and collar tight in her left hand as her right hand snakes around me and begins stroking my clit. Her teeth tease at my ear. My knees get weak, and suddenly I don’t care about my goddamned neighbors, the women at the karate school, or anyone else for that matter. I want her to fuck me, and I don’t care if the whole damned world knows or what anyone thinks about the way I want to be fucked.

  “Make me come. I want you...to...please.” I’m having trouble with words but I am speaking, after a fashion. She’s laughing, loving this. Her hands are getting rougher, her teeth biting down on my neck, leaving red marks on my skin. I can see our reflection in the window and wonder who is looking up. I imagine the shoppers glancing up and noticing the glint of light off the thick, shiny collar, suddenly realizing what they are seeing. I imagine them going home hot and bothered, thinking about us later with husbands or girlfriends or maybe jerking off in the dark, alone. “I want them to see you fuck me. Fuck me.” I am screaming it to her. At this rate they won’t have to look up, they’ll hear me.

  “Stay here. Touch yourself. And don’t turn around.” Amanda unties my hands and kisses me, practically sucking the breath out of my mouth before she leaves. Her footsteps pad across the floor, and I hear her rustling around in that bag of hers. I lean against the window frame, put one foot up on the sill, and begin to stroke myself. I can feel the leash hanging down my back, gently swaying. I feel it brush over my ass, and I rub harder as I look out the window.

  Amanda is suddenly back at my side grabbing at the leash and twisting my nipples. I can feel something hard and rubbery pushing at my ass. She has fastened the dildo on with a harness. A harness. Oh god, do women really use those things? I’ve seen one before but it was hanging on the wall at the Ye Olde Local Sex Shoppe, not on a lover. I want to see it but she won’t let me turn around. She has one hand on the leash and the other across my chest as she forces me back against her. Her hips are powerful and thrust the rubber cock deep inside me. I feel myself scream as I ram into her. She staggers backward, regains her balance, then pushes me up against the window. I lean forward, holding tight to the frame. The glass feels cold on my breasts, and I feel her breasts soft against my shoulder blades as she fucks me with deep, hard strokes. The sensation is deliciously perverse. Her long, sensitive fingers stroke my clit, and I feel my legs begin to shake. Heat spreads out from my belly and I can no longer stand. Her strong arms hold me up as I scream and tremble in front of that window. We fall to the floor and lie in a sweating, quivering heap. I put my head on her shoulder and let her soothe me to sleep.

  It’s early evening and she has gone hours ago; I am out walking in the world. I can still smell her spicy aroma rising off my body. The breeze blowing my hair across my face carries the perfume of her sweat, unchecked by Secret for Women. Her smells are so loud in my nostrils, I can’t imagine that anyone talking to me doesn’t notice. They don’t. Each waft of scent triggers visceral memory. People see and hear me from so far away; I feel like I’m in a bubble waiting to land. My smile is full of secrets as I turn the corner for home.

  LESSONS LEARNED

  AJ Bray

  She looked up at him from her chair and leaned back, throwing an eyeful of cleavage in his general direction. He only paused in his tirade for a minute as he took in her lewd tableau.

  “Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” he hollered, “Is everything just a game to you?”

  “You’re overreacting, as usual, dear. I was just talking to her. Just common politesse—nothing you’d know about.” Her tongue darted out to lick her berry-glossed lips, and she finally lost the internal struggle, letting her eyes gleam with mirth. They seemed to have the same fight every two weeks, just before his shot. His testosterone-induced mood swings were worse than any PMS he’d ever had as a woman, and they were starting to wear on her nerves. In fact, it had reached the point of amusing her, and that’s always a bad sign. Whether or not she’d been flirting with the salesgirl was totally irrelevant, anyway. Hadn’t she gotten a hefty discount on those four-hundred-dollar shoes? He should be thanking her.

  He seemed to read her thoughts. “Oh, you think I won’t mind, because you flirted and teased your way to getting her to knock off a few bucks, is that it? Well, you’re wrong! I do mind, and for that matter…”

  Her mind strayed as she deliciously licked the wounds he sliced on her ego. A few bucks? One flash of the same cleavage he had brushed off a second ago had reduced that salesgirl to a puddle of blubbering mush. Without her shameless displays of skin and lashes, they would never have “found” that 80 percent off “sale.” Her reverie was interrupted as one of his words cut like an icy dagger.

  “…whore!”

  She leapt to her feet, all humor and pouting forgotten. He seemed to realize his mistake, because he took two steps back and raised his hands in defense, but it was too late. Her open palm connected with his face with such force, her entire arm stung from the slap. He stumbled backwards into the wall, his visage a mask of shock and pain, his hand pressed to his injured jaw. She stood her ground, arms akimbo, her tiny hands drawn up into tight fists. Her eyes burned with pure scorn.

  “You fucking bitch! You hit me! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  His shock was wearing off, with rage close on its heels. She knew she should apologize, but the words wouldn’t get past her burning throat. Instead, she drew herself to her full height, which was only a few inches shorter than his six feet, her body pulsing with indignation. “How dare you!” she shouted, “You have no fucking right to call me a whore, you prick! Or should I say no-prick, because we all know you’ll never be a real man!” The instant the words fell from her mouth, she cursed herself for saying them. She only wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her, but she knew she couldn’t take it back. She could never take it back. She closed her eyes in a silent prayer to long-forgotten gods, only to find herself alone in the room when she opened them again. “Shit,” she thought, “now I’ve done it,” and she headed straight for the bedroom.

  Her guess was all too accurate. He was tearing clothes out of the closet and wadding them into a duffel bag. Just for a second, her mind left the situation, and she focused on his huge, muscular arms tensing and flexing with anger. She wanted to stroke them, stroke him, be safe in those arms, be safe from the pain she was feeling right now. She crashed back to reality with the realization that she had caused the anger pumping through those muscles. In a too-late attempt, she bowed her head. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it. I was just trying to get you like you got me,” she said softly.

  She heard the flurry of activity cease, and she raised her eyes to his, but what she saw there made her choke. Where she’d expected to
see rage, tears glistened like innocent rain. His shoulders slumped, his hands opened of their own accord, and his favorite shirt fell to the ground. They both looked down at the lump of soft material on the floor, minds clicking on the same memory.

  When he first told her he wanted to become a man several years ago, she’d left him standing there, open and exposed. She returned that night to find him sitting in the dark, crying.

  “I did some thinking,” she’d said, “and I came to a realization.”

  “Yes?” he said, sounding small and afraid.

  “I came to the realization that every man needs one nice shirt, and all you have are grungy old T-shirts. So I went and bought you this one. I thought you’d like it.” They had made love all night after that, right there on the living room floor.

  Now, in the bedroom, they had come to another juncture. Their eyes met once more, and locked with the same passion they had felt a moment before, but this time there were no angry words to throw. She bounded blindly to the strong arms she’d briefly thought lost, and they tumbled to the bed unceremoniously. He was kissing her wildly and ripping at the frail, filmy material that clung to her needy breasts. It tore easily, and she grabbed his hair, forcing his head down between them. He licked and sucked his way to her throbbing nipples, paying homage first to one, then the other. Her body thrashed wildly as adrenaline and lust concocted a powerful cocktail in her veins. He replaced his hot mouth with palms that thudded with his hammering pulse. His hands pawed and kneaded her elastic globes, and their mouths joined—he kissing tenderly, she ravenously. His hips moved between hers, still fully clothed, and pounded her with such authority, she squealed like the little brat she truly was. A smile spread over his soul, something secret, diabolical, and all too rare. He hid it with his ever-present compassion and stroked her flushed cheeks.

  “Ohhh, gorgeous,” he purred. “Why don’t we have a little fun?” He nuzzled her neck, his hot breath making her sigh and bite her lip to restrain her moans. “I think you’d look soooo pretty tied up and fucked senseless.” Inwardly, he congratulated himself on a timely bow to her vanity. His gamble won the jackpot.

  “Oh, please!” she breathed gloriously, her entire countenance a show of preened sexual perfection.

  He regarded her with internal annoyance as she writhed perfectly for his inspection. She never used to be so…so perfect, he thought. With mission in hand, he set off to find instruments of her imminent imperfection.

  All the regular equipment was resurrected from well-placed hiding spots. He secured his favorite dildo and tucked the monstrous hard-on into his briefs. He opted for the leather, industrial-looking restraints in lieu of frivolous fuzzy cuffs and scarves. He chuckled as he returned to the bedside of his goddess, armaments at hand. He began to sprinkle soft, pretty words on her as his hands went to work securing her to the bed by wrists and ankles. His verbal finery did well to occupy her, and before she had time to pout, she was drawn, quartered, and completely nude.

  He mounted the bed deftly and quickly began his ministrations on her voluptuous body. He traced the curves of her full breasts with his tongue, his fingers creeping over the swells of her soft stomach toward her neatly trimmed and waxed mons. He stoked every inch of flesh in his path, inciting squirms and moans from his victim. As his kisses neared her throat, she stretched her neck as either an invitation or a command, he was not sure. His hand had reached her sculptured mound and was sliding in and out of her slit, just touching her button enough to frustrate. Her pussy lips were just as pouty and glossed as the ones his mouth kissed with unsheltered passion. He ground his dick into her hip, only the thin, blue-ribbed material of his briefs keeping her from the sanity she craved.

  He finally slid a solitary finger into her hungry pussy. He played her like a perfect flute, making her climb the scales of pleasure, only to bring her back down sans crescendo. She was losing all hopes of composure, tears pouring down her face, her mouth begging and blubbering incoherently. She pulled frantically at her restraints, her body arching off the bed. Finally, he climbed between her legs and unsheathed himself with tortuous grace. She eagerly pushed her hips at him and licked her lips anxiously. He reached inside her without ceremony and stole her wetness. He slid his lubed hand over his shaft, making the base of it rub his smaller, testosterone-engorged dick. He stopped jerking his cock and looked into her eyes, his usual softness replaced with the anger of earlier.

  “So, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  She blinked up at him in confusion. “Wha-?”

  “I said, you fucking little bitch, what do you have to say for yourself? How does it feel to be played? I’m sick of being the one who always feels stupid. I’m sick of…”

  “What the fuck?!” she stammered, trying in vain to calm the throbbing frenzy in her sex. “You have no right! You… you…please!” she begged in exasperation.

  “So that’s all you can think about? Good. Now listen closely to me, and I may just give you what you want.” He punctuated his words with strokes of his cock. “No more comments about my manhood. Period. I’ve had enough shit to deal with in regard to my gender, and I won’t take any more from you. Next, T is not the reason I get so pissed at you. I get pissed because you’re a conceited little bitch of questionable fidelity. No more flirting. Ever. Not with men or women. I don’t care how old they are or what they can offer in exchange for a glimpse of boobs. Grow up, and I mean fast, or else you’ll have to go find some butch-dyke sugar daddy who’ll put up with your ass. Now,” he said, crawling up her body, his cock just bobbing out of her tongue’s reach, “suck my dick, if you can, whore. Oh, yeah, that reminds me. I never called you a whore earlier, bitch. I said no one’s gonna think they can offer my woman shoes for a glimpse of her tits like a whore. If you had been listening, you might not have behaved like an idiot. Now, suck!”

  She craned her neck, tears freely flowing in humiliation, trying to lick the precious manhood of her lover. She begged for him, for forgiveness, for anything she could think of at that moment. She had fucked up, and she knew it, and despite the fact he could see her remorse, the lesson wasn’t over. He laughed openly and stroked his cock in her face. The pressure in his gland under the dildo was building rapidly, accelerated by the look of want still shining in his woman’s eyes. Suddenly, with a startled roar, he exploded in an unexpected orgasm that rocked through him. He came on her tear-stained face, depriving her of her noblest task.

  When his heart slowed enough for him to think rationally, he looked down at his deeply disappointed lover. He now had two choices. He could reach down and caress her face, showing her that all was well. He could then remove the restraints and make love to her, bringing her to the same wondrous climax he had just experienced. He could even cum inside her, bringing them together as one perfect being. He could. He could do anything.

  He got up off the bed without looking back, leaving her strapped down and stuttering a steady flow of shocked interrogations. He would take a nice hot shower, maybe catch the last period of the hockey game on TV.

  This time, she would learn her lesson.

  THE BREAK

  Cheryl B.

  My ex-girlfriend Kate invited me over for dinner. The minute she opened the door I was immediately reminded of what attracted me to her from the beginning: the blue eyes, dark spiky hair, small sturdy body, and the perfectly round bottom covered in baggy jeans. I wanted to turn her around and smack her ass, but we hadn’t seen each other in over two months and had more pressing things to get over first.

  After the awkward “Hello” hug, we sat down at her kitchen table for the lasagna, which she had baked to perfection and served with a crisp salad and warm bread. I’d almost forgotten what a good cook she was. Almost forgotten that on our first date, Kate had described herself as a domestic butch.

  “I like to cook,” she had said.

  “And I like to eat,” I answered before pushing her down on the bed.

  When we were finished with t
he lasagna, we moved into the living room where we sat on separate parts of her sectional couch to watch the DVD. It doesn’t matter what the movie was, and I can’t remember it one bit. But I found myself trying to figure out a way to smoothly move myself onto her section of the couch. Maybe if I stretched out far enough, I would touch her leg. I tried this several times but couldn’t completely work it. The last time I sat on this couch with her, she lay across my knee as I smacked her fleshy cheeks with a paddle. I’d worked it into a good rhythm, moving from one red-welted cheek to another with an intensity that almost scared me.

  “Baby, I don’t think I can take anymore,” Kate cried.

  “Oh, you’re going to take it.” I picked up the rhythm.

  “It feels so good,” she acquiesced.

  “I bet it does.” I continued smacking.

  But that night I kept my distance as she didn’t seem too interested in crossing over onto my area of the couch.

  Following the movie, we stood in her doorway for the good-bye.

  “It’s late,” I said, looking at the clock on the wall.

  “What do you mean by that?” she asked cautiously.

  I reached out and touched her hand—I couldn’t help myself. When she touched me back, it was obvious we were both under the spell of the familiar.

  “I mean it’s past midnight,” I offered.

  “Does that mean you want to stay over?” Kate asked.

  “Do you want me to.”

  “If you want to.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, it’s too late. The bus is weird now.”