Best Lesbian Bondage Erotica Read online

  “I can sleep on the couch.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Kate handed me my favorite red flannel pajamas. The ones I’d always worn when I stayed over during our two year relationship. They were soft and warm and as soon as they were in my hands, I realized how much I’d missed them. Or perhaps I’d just missed her. I went into the bathroom to change. Just a few months prior, I would have disrobed right in the middle of the living room, but since we were broken up I felt self-conscious. I was surprised that she had even kept the pajamas; I was even more surprised to find my pink toothbrush waiting for me in her medicine cabinet in the same spot I had always kept it. But then her toothbrush was still in my cabinet, too. I didn’t want to throw it out. “Lesbian couples never really break up,” someone said to me years ago, “they just find new ways to be co-dependent.” I never thought that was true. I’m not one of those people who could be friends with my exes, so this was new territory for me.

  Kate’s new girl made her presence known in the bathroom as well. There was an unfamiliar hair product sitting out on the sink next to expensive loose powder. On the shelf above were two tacky hair accessories with long strands of blonde hair still attached. I picked up one of the barrettes and studied the specimen. I could tell by the way the hair caught the light that the other girl was a natural blonde. Kate always told me she didn’t like blondes, she only liked brunettes, like me. My ex-boyfriend told me he didn’t like women with large breasts, he only liked women with smaller chests, like me. You can imagine where that went when we broke up.

  By the time I got ready, Kate was already in bed, tucked up to her chin, journal in hand. I didn’t know what to expect. Was this really just a friendly sleepover? Were we going to get it on? Even worse, I didn’t know what I wanted to have happen. I got into the bed and she stopped writing, ending the entry with an exaggerated flourish of her pen. She put the journal on her nightstand, and I realized that I’d never seen her write in a journal before. Was this a new thing? So much can happen in two months, I thought as I ducked down under the covers.

  She shut off the light and moved closer to me, placing her arm around my waist. I didn’t know whether to burst out crying or kiss her desperately. Either way, the weight of our separation was apparent, and we melted into each other as if nothing had happened, as if we’d never broken up.

  I rolled on top of her and held down her arms. She was my prisoner.

  “I’m your prisoner,” Kate said playfully.

  “Oh, yes you are.” I reached over the side of her bed and felt around for her wrist restraints. They were still attached to the bed frame, one on each side. It was nice to see my girl hadn’t lost her lust for pervery. I turned her around, belly down, bottom up and tightly fastened each wrist.

  “Stick your pretty ass in the air,” I whispered in her ear.

  She did as I told her, pushing her ass out in exaggeration. I pulled her satin blindfold off the bedpost, fastened it around her head.

  “Oh no!” she cried.

  I opened the bottom drawer of her night stand, where she kept the supplies and felt around for her riding crop. It was at the bottom. Did this mean she hadn’t used it in a while? Was blondie not into spanking?

  I spread her knees farther apart and fastened each ankle in its restraint.

  “Don’t move,” I told her and smacked her ass hard with my hand just to emphasize the seriousness of the situation.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” she answered. This was all part of our game, and I was ecstatic to hear that she hadn’t forgotten the dialogue. Then I picked up the riding crop, got off the bed, and walked a few feet back to regard the situation; my little domestic butch prisoner was waving her ample ass in the air just waiting for it. No one else had ever done this to me—turned me into such a dirty foul-mouthed bitch with a bad attitude and a steady, sadistic hand. Before Kate I was not particularly interested in much outside the typical fucking and sucking that had been part of my existence as a bisexual woman. But something about her just brought out my femme top.

  She was really begging for it now, waving her bottom in the air.

  “You better smack my ass soon, or else,” she implored, barely able to move any part of her body except her ass which was thrusting wildly. I could see her pussy slick and glistening from behind.

  “Or else what?” I laughed, my own juices bubbling over inside my panties. “What are you going to do to me; you’re all tied up.”

  “I’ll smack your ass,” she said defiantly. She knew that was never going to happen.

  “You’re going to smack my ass?”

  “Yes, I’m going to smack your ass if you don’t start smacking mine. Please, please don’t make me wait any longer.”

  I stepped closer to the bed. She whimpered in anticipation. I ran my implement across her cheeks, down her crack, and separated her soaking wet lips with the tip of the riding crop. She began to tremble all over, practically falling over on one side, her ass falling toward the bed.

  “Get up. Put your ass back in the air,” I said, lightly smacking her bottom with the palm of my hand.

  “Yes, Ma’am!” she said. She was shaking but she got back up and once again assumed the position.

  I continued to play with her pussy lips and rub her clit with the riding crop. The black leather skated easily over the deep red folds of wet flesh. I wanted to reach down and taste her but managed to focus on the task at hand. I backed away, raised my arm over my head, and brought the riding crop down on the fleshy bosom of her left butt cheek. She gasped, then moaned.

  I watched as the skin rose, forming a perfect red welt. I raised my arm even further above and came down on the right side. I thought about the blonde, leaving her hair all over the place and staking her claim in the bathroom. I imagined her paws all over Kate; the bitch had probably even worn my pajamas! My favorite pajamas! I bore down on Kate’s ass with a fierce velocity.

  With each break on her ass, I thought about “The Break” we had taken in our relationship. What a brilliant idea that was! I thought. “Breaks” never work out; they’re just ways to belabor the “Breaking Up” process, throw another wrench into the already gut-wrenching mix, which then just spins around and hits you in the head. I noticed a long blond hair on the sheet by Kate’s knee. I thought about the guy I’d been with since “The Break”—as bland as a bowl of vanilla ice cream and even less satisfying—no one will ever bring out his inner pervert.

  He has no inner pervert; some people are just like that and you have to accept it. But I keep going back because I don’t know what else to do. It’s hard to meet people in this city, and I’ve never been one to be alone.

  I’d heard from a good friend that Kate was crazy about the blonde and as I stood there, lovingly beating her ass to a fuschia-tinted pulp, I was filled with an incredible sadness. And I somehow knew, that no matter how much we wanted each other that night, we would never be together again. When Kate yelled for me to stop, I collapsed on top of her, both of us crying like we did when we first fell in love. Her ass was warm against the front of my flannel pajamas, and we both fell face down on a bed that could no longer contain us.

  NEVER SAY NEVER

  Rachel Kramer Bussel

  I can only come when my legs are spread apart as wide as possible. It doesn’t matter what else is going on at the time; if my legs are spread, I come so hard I feel like a rocket about to be zoomed into space, wild and breathing fire and out of control. I like the way my legs stretch and pull apart and cause all sorts of divine sensations in my cunt. Even the tiniest movements make my insides quiver and quake; sometimes I feel on the verge of tears, the sensations are that intense. Nothing else can compare. All of my partners have been more than happy to oblige. It’s really the only thing that works with me. At least, that’s what I thought.

  Until Jesse.
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  One night, I was at a play party, a pretty quiet and slow one, which was fine with me. I decided to attend because it was the only game in town and I didn’t really want to be home all alone, but I wasn’t in the most sociable mood. I was sitting alone, eating chips and gazing off into space, physically present—but mentally off in my own dream world.

  “What are you into?”

  Someone had just invaded my quiet little area, barging right up to me in such an aggressive way I had to look around to make sure we were at the same staid party that happens every month. We were, even though I almost never see women act so boldly there. They usually eye each other all night and make suggestive comments and then at the very last minute quickly ask if the other one wants to play, knowing that there’s only time for the shortest of scenes.

  I was impressed with her audacity. I knew her name, Jesse, because everyone knew her name. I’d never spoken to her and she’d never so much as glanced at me before that I could tell, but I guess she’d noticed me lurking around. Maybe she was more observant than I’d given her credit for. She didn’t ask me first whether I was into her or wanted to play. I guess that was implied by the way I slouched against the wall, without trying to slink away or avert my eyes. Or maybe she was just one of those women filled with so much self-confidence that the idea of someone not wanting to play with her is completely foreign. In my case, her hunch was correct, but I didn’t want to make myself seem that easy. I stood there staring coolly back at her. The body language of consent was all she was going to get.

  “I said, what are you into?” she repeated, this time with an edge to her voice. I hadn’t answered yet because I don’t have a set answer, a one-size-fits-all play requirement; for me it really depends on the person, the setting, the context. It’s an odd question to me, too; how will I know what will work with her until I try it? So I gave her a broad but definite response.

  “I don’t know if this is what you’re looking for, but I really like to come with my legs spread as far apart as they can be. That always works for me.”

  I didn’t tell her it was the only thing that worked for me, didn’t think I had to. She just looked at me; I couldn’t read her gaze. She seemed slightly unpleased, but she just took my hand and led me into a room. She closed the door; I didn’t look to see if she locked it, only half caring. I like my privacy, too, even at a public play party.

  “So I’m not quite sure I understand what you mean. Why don’t you show me this fabulous way you like to come with your legs spread?”

  I was sweating and my heart was pounding. She was acting friendly but I still felt intimidated, waiting for the other shoe to drop and her secretly nefarious intentions to be revealed. I was used to tops telling me what to do, not asking for things from me. Maybe in this case she was doing both. I liked her and was turned-on but wasn’t sure if I could follow her instructions. It’s one thing to come alone, twisting and turning into all sorts of bizarre contortions to reach that pinnacle of pleasure, but doing it in front of another person, especially one who’s demanding it, was going to be a bit daunting.

  I quietly asked if she had a vibrator. She handed me a small but powerful black plug-in one. I gripped it tightly, noting the controls, then closed my eyes, afraid seeing her would affect me too much. I lay down on my back, spreading my legs widely. Then I turned it to the highest speed possible, the sound drowning out her breathing, and pressed it against myself. I felt my clit light up, straining for more contact, and spread my legs wider. I love how flexible I get when I’m aroused. I had my legs as wide apart as I could get them, when she came over toward me. She leaned over me, put her hands on my feet and pressed hard. Now I was totally split apart, the pain streaking down my thighs, twisting my pussy and making the vibrations that much more intense. I was having trouble breathing, but I didn’t mind. She kept pushing, staring down at me like some devious X-rated aerobics instructor. I could imagine her saying “Feel the burn,” as she kept bearing down on me, my cunt utterly exposed to her powerful eyes. I started to rock back and forth slightly, really getting into it, knowing that she was safely holding me, when the power stopped. She’d unplugged it somehow; I was so lost in my thighs and clit that I didn’t notice until it all came to a grinding halt. I stared up at her beseechingly. She couldn’t be making me stop now, she just couldn’t.

  “That’s enough of that for now; I just wanted to see what you like. Very good. Now we’re going to try something new,” she said briskly, like she was my boss giving me a challenging new assignment.

  I wanted to protest, but there was no time. She pulled me up and had me stand with my hands over my head. My heart was still beating fast, and I had no idea what was about to happen. She shackled my wrists above my head, and while they didn’t feel uncomfortable, I found myself starting to squirm. She pushed me toward the wall, facing it, and didn’t have to tell me to stay there. I was turned-on but there was very little I could do about it besides pressing my cunt against the wall.

  Then I felt her start to bind my ankles. I opened my mouth but just held it open for a minute. What could I say? She obviously knew what she was doing and had a plan for me. It felt kind of good actually, the soft rope pressing into my taut ankles, yet I couldn’t help wanting to spread my legs, even a little. All I could do at that point was rise up and down on my toes and wiggle fruitlessly against the ropes. When I tried that, she looked up at me with a severe expression, daring me to protest. When she’d finished with the last knot, she told me, “I think you’ll change your mind, sweetheart, just wait and see.” I had little choice on the waiting since I was now at her mercy.

  I could feel myself getting wet, a liquid refutation of my wiggling protests. She leaned into my ear. “I’m going to spank you and whip you now, and you’re going to like it, I can tell. I’ve heard about you, you little slut, acting all quiet and shy, but I know what you really want. And it’ll be all the better because I’m gonna make you come with those pretty legs pressed together as tight as can be. I know you want to show off, you want everyone to see your nice, wet pussy, and how far you can spread those legs. You’re good at that, I already told you. But I’m not gonna let you show off that pussy or move those thighs, not this time.”

  With that, she surprised me yet again, leaning me over a padded bar that reminded me of the kind I used to leap over during gymnastics class. With my head leaning forward, I could open my eyes, but the view wasn’t all that spectacular: the dusty beige floor tiles were about all I could make out. In the silence, I listened for clues, sweating and breathing rapidly. I felt a movement behind me and then her hand coming down hard on my ass. I jolted, pressing myself more tightly against the padded surface. She spanked me again, and continued, keeping a rapid rhythm that was getting me wetter and wetter. At some point I felt something new. I knew that it was no longer her hand but something much stronger making contact with me. The pain was a rush but I knew that it alone wouldn’t be enough for me.

  The rope cut into my ankles as I pressed them as far apart as they would go, which wasn’t very far at all. I could only rock back and forth, stick my ass out further, but my legs wouldn’t stretch in the way that I love them to. I felt torn between enjoying the delicious sensations my ass was receiving and wanting to move my legs apart. I wanted her to see and feel just how wet I really was. And then I heard a knock at the door. I sighed, not wanting to stop. She left my side to answer the door, and I heard a whispered conversation that I couldn’t make out.

  She returned with someone else, a stranger. I didn’t get to hear her introduce herself either. Jesse did the speaking for both of them. “M is going to take over now, because I have something else I need to do.” She didn’t ask me, just stated it simply. Her tone was totally calm, verging on disinterested, and it made me want to show off for her, impress her. Jesse lifted me up, then moved the bench away. I wanted that bench, wanted to have something to lean on, something to help me keep my composure, to prevent me from free-falling, literally
and figuratively. But I had to trust that Jesse knew what she was doing; she certainly seemed to as she had me stand up straight, my ankles still bound, my wrists hanging together in front of me.

  She placed herself in front of me, her hand covering my pussy. I pressed against her, wanting to feel more contact. I was relaxing into this new sensation when I felt the first smack. It came much harder than Jesse’s, pressing me into Jesse’s hand and sending its vibrations through my whole body. I opened my eyes and looked up at Jesse, pleadingly. With her hand on my cunt, I wanted to spread my legs and slide her hot fingers into me, but of course that was impossible. Her fingers started working my clit, as the beatings continued. I let out a little scream, wanting to move. “Oh, so you think you’re going to come, do you? Is that possible, just from me playing with your nice juicy clit here, and M spanking you? Is it possible for you to come with those legs pressed so tightly together that it looks like you’re trying to hold in your pee? I want you to press them even more tightly together, that’s right.” And with that she took her hand away and moved behind me. “Now, my dear, you are in for a little treat.” I heard her open the door and let in our audience. I didn’t mind, thinking maybe she’d undo my legs for this. But she had something else in mind.

  “Now, my friends, here is Miss ‘I-can-only-come-with-my-legs-spread-far-apart. ’ She prefers them spread all the way out, flung as far as they can go, so her pretty little cunt is on display and she’s taking up as much room as possible. She told me that’s the only way she can come, but she agreed to let me play a little game to see if that’s really true. You can place your bets with each other but I’m warning you now—I’m a sure thing.” And then she sauntered back to me. “And just to make extra sure those legs stay put, I’m going to tie her up a bit more securely.” And with that she slipped another piece of rope around me and tied me yet again, this time at the thighs. The rope pressed into that fleshy area, and I could barely stand it. Now I really couldn’t move my legs and it was driving me mad. I wished she could at least tie me up with something between my legs to relieve some of this pressure she’d created.