Happy Lupercalia, loves! I didn’t want a holiday that involves whipping and knives to pass without at least giving a nod to such play (spoiler alert: I went with the latter) so here’s an excerpt (or a few excerpts because I’m feeling generous) from my story, “In Her Sights,” published in Alison Tyler’s Bound for Trouble: BDSM Erotica for Women.
I once watched an artist painting a portrait of his lover. Witnessed the lascivious nature of his brush dipping into the pigment, the amative blending of colors just so on the palette, before he ever touched tip to canvas. Working assiduously to infuse his lover’s very soul into the eyes; languidly lingering on the lips, introducing sex to the mouth. He studied his subject’s face so intently, so intimately, his lover shackled under the weight of his regard.
I’ve seen that artist’s look in Lux’s eyes, una mirada muy particular, sensed that fixed stare effusive and sumptuous against my surface, and then felt her go deeper. Entering my fleshy sex with her fist, farther still with her gaze.
My clit skips a beat.
I can’t get past the way she’s caught me and holds me captive with that gaze—knowing and profoundly intense. She twists her wrist one last time and my cunt clamps down as I submit to the waves rippling, then ripping, through me. “Mmmmmmm…that’s my good girl.” And then she’s gone. Pulls out of me with not the slightest warning and I cry out, suck in and am left wanting. So painfully wanting. My shyness begging to break away and cast my eyes downward, to bring my hand to my face and deflect at least a small portion of it all. Me muero de la timidez—I might just be the first case known to femmekind who succumbs to shyness. But just as this thought flashes hot across my flesh, her control seeps into my abyss and I’m hooked. Inescapably. Tethered up in her resolve.
* * *
She’s shaking her head back and forth. Slowly. Ever so slowly. Staring into me with eyes that say, Fuck, yes to every last turn my body takes, todas las curvas de mi cuerpo. Something about it—an action that traditionally reads as no when she really means just the opposite—consumes me with desire. She devours me with that look. Captivating in every sense of the word—I am her captive. After our first several days spent together, I felt like watching her do that was so imprinted on my clit that I could come just from having her shake her head at me from across the room. And at the very least, it made my knees give out. It always does.
Lucky for me, she likes me on them.
Lux is detail orientated, as am I; her focus makes it abundantly clear that none of my efforts while down there are lost on her. She relishes the sensuousness of the senses—the wet, lustrous noises of the head of her cock hitting the back of my throat; the sight of me thrusting enthusiastically against the shaft, crimson red lips wrapped around the length of her; the pressure of me fucking her back while she fucks my face; the essence of my ravenous cunt wafting up. She opens her mouth to breathe in every last note, tasting metallic.
* * *
What gets her off more than how I deliciously pique her senses is her ability to pierce me with that gaze. Lecherously peering, Lux pries into the depths of me, the heart of me, her dick growing harder at the discovery of something so depraved and pure. Her orgasm mounting hastily at my naive nescience in letting her in. As she pierces me farther, the metallic flavor wraps around her tongue and spills down her throat, filling her up.
I want so badly to watch her watching me, to see the story her eyes tell of how pleased she is with everything happening below, to witness how she possesses me so thoroughly with just a look. But I can’t. My eyelids refuse to open when I’m choking so on su verga tan larga that I can hardly suck in any air while I suck her down. I suppose it’s a question of bodily physics and mine adhere to the shut-eyed-cock-choking phenomenon. I pull her out just momentarily to steal a peek and witness the glorious look of dominating satisfaction carved into Lux’s face.
“Well done, baby girl.” Warmth and pride on her breath. “Now get up.” I long to dig my nails deeper into her luscious cheeks, clutch at the meat of that divine ass while I’m swallowing her whole; but knowing better than to argue with that tone, I rise. Markedly laconic, her words are sparse at times like these but always poignant. Pointed. As sharp as her stare and steel. “Facedown on the bed,” she instructs. Later the words will pour off of her tongue and spill all over me. Flood my mind and my senses. This moment exists almost entirely in the unspoken desire that blazes from her eyes; she descends farther, filling me with more than I thought possible. I’m voluntarily enslaved.
Words cannot circumnavigate these waters.
* * *
She regards me with such intensity I feel desperately vulnerable and still somehow safe enough to let her in. Though she needs no invitation. Lux fully knows this is hers for the taking. So she takes it and I accept my role as willing sacrifice, laying my body down before her. I allow her to forge away at her own pace; accept whatever is left when she is done. Her eyes taste every last curve.
She takes her time and drags the stainless steel slowly across my skin, trailing where her gaze left off, the tip occasionally digging into the plumpness of my thighs, my ass, testing their give. And, oh, do I give. The cold, keen edge gives rise to a chill blushing across my surface and I feel her lust tear into me, shredding any last lingering defenses. I only wish her blade could penetrate me so deeply. Before I can finish wishing and just as I gasp loudly enough for the neighbors to hear, my remaining lingerie hits the floor in pieces and I wonder if I didn’t perhaps wish too hard. Lux’s knife is too sharp for this kind of play, too near to breaking flesh. And if I don’t take control of my involuntary shaking, she will.