The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 5 (51 page)

Then Cass, the strap in hand, will ride Tatiana’s tongue again as I slide my aching want into the pink Russian wet-walled vault of Cassandra’s gentle lover, seeking to pleasure Tatiana’s pussy. I close my eyes, and pretend once more that I am fucking
her.

“A gimp?” Richard was a sex slave? Could it be possible? I swallowed, breathed deep and tried to make sense of what Tom had just told me. “But what does it mean . . .?” I looked up at him, spluttering the words out. “I mean, I know what it means . . . I just don’t know what he means by it, by approaching us.”

Tom rested his hand reassuringly on my shoulder. There was a look of deep concern in his eyes and he was watching me carefully for my reactions. Oh, how I loved this man; when he had said he had something “a bit heavy” to talk to me about, I thought the worst was about to happen, that he was going to say there was another woman, that he was leaving me. The last thing I expected was for him to reveal this, Richard’s secret. Richard’s darkest secret.

I had actually known Richard longer than I had Tom. He had been working in the international trade department when I was transferred to the London branch, about six years earlier. Admittedly he was the dark horse in the department, and the office gossips plagued him with questions about his private life, all of which he managed to avoid and dismiss without being in the least bit offensive.

To me Richard was just a shy, reclusive guy; a small man, and very attractive in an understated way – nicely packaged, dark hair and vivid blue eyes. I just assumed he was comfortable around me because I was the only one who didn’t quiz him about his private life. That was also how I had learned more about him than the tenacious office gossips. He lived alone in an apartment overlooking the Thames and enjoyed a number of extreme sports, like acute and prolonged bouts of mountain biking, martial arts and kick boxing. I supposed that was what gave him his good packaging – the guy worked out, you know – but none of that seemed to go with his shy, understated image. Neither did this fetishistic sexuality that I had just learned about, but then . . . maybe it did kind of make sense?

I had kept the personal information he gave me to myself, which is why he liked me, I assumed; he appreciated that kind of respect. Now that I reflected on it, I guessed he had been even friendlier to me since Tom had arrived on the work scene and moved in with me two years ago; but shy single men often feel more comfortable around women who are attached. Little did I know he was observing Tom and me with this kind of proposal in mind. He wanted to be our sex slave, our gimp. My heart rate went up several notches and my body was hot, almost uncomfortably hot. I fanned myself with a magazine while trying to come to terms with the conundrum, and the rather extreme effect it was having on me – I had to admit it the idea made me horny as hell.

“Suzie, I can see you are interested, my love.” Tom folded his arms. He was standing in front of me and nodded down at my breasts, where my nipples were swollen and crushed beneath the surface of my silk blouse. There was no hiding it. My sex was clenching, my body was on fire.

“Yes, I can’t deny it. . . the idea of it makes me hot, but you know . . . I want
us
to be okay.” I eyed his long, lean body, the fall of his dark blond hair on his neck. I couldn’t bear to lose this man . . . hell, I could hardly get through a day without wanting us to meld our bodies together and fuck each other senseless.

“It won’t affect anything between us, it’s just an adventure.” He began to stroke my face, pushing back my hair where it was sticking to the damp heat of my neck. “He said he will be transferring soon, so there wouldn’t be any awkwardness at work, it would just be a one-off.” My, he had thought of everything, and he’d obviously been planning the whole thing for quite a while, too. Tom lifted my chin with one finger, his thumb stroking gently over my lower lip. “He said it would be up to us, he said we could do what we wanted with him.” There was a dark, suggestive look in Tom’s eyes.

“I see . . .” I mumbled, not sure if I did.

“One thing I’d like to see . . .” His voice was hoarse. He ran a finger down the collar of my blouse and into my cleavage. He slipped one finger inside, pulling the blouse open, looking at the shadow between my breasts. His other hand lifted mine and led it to his groin, where his cock was already hard inside his jeans.

“What. . .?” I wanted to know. The blood was rushing in my ears; the magazine in my hand fell to the floor.

“I’d like to watch him going down on you.” His eyes were filled with lust. I groaned, my hips beginning to shift as I rocked back and forth on the hard kitchen stool, my sex hungry for action. He leaned forward and kissed me, his tongue plunging into my mouth. My fingers fumbled with his fly buttons, and then I was bringing his heavy cock out and stroking it with my whole hand. He pushed me back, over the breakfast bar. He was going to fuck me, right there and then, and I was ready; sweet Jesus was I ready. I hoisted my skirt up around my hips. He dragged my knickers off and pushed my thighs apart with rough, demanding movements. He stroked my inflamed clit, growling when he saw the juices dribbling from my blushing slit. Then he fucked me while I perched on the kitchen stool, pivoting on its hard surface with everything on display.

“Get your tits out,” he whispered as he thrust his cock deep inside me, his body crouched over me. I pulled my blouse open, my hands shaking as they shoved my breasts together, kneading them and tweaking the nipples, sending vibrant shivers through my core. I was whimpering, jamming myself down on his thrusting cock as hard as I could. Tom watched with hungry eyes as my hands crushed my breasts. I suddenly remembered Richard blushing when I had caught him looking at me over his monitor, just the other day. Was he aroused then? Had his cock gotten hard as he thought about me and Tom? He had glanced away, furtively, his color high. Dear God, the man had been thinking about us doing this; maybe even thinking about doing this
with
us. He had told Tom his dark secret, and Tom was now rutting in me like a wild man. I was on fire. I whimpered, my hands suddenly clutching at Tom’s shoulders. I was about to come. I had never come so bloody fast in my entire life.

“You look very beautiful, Suzie,” Richard said. My fingers fidgeted with my neckline, nervously. “I always thought you looked like Audrey Hepburn with your hair up like that.” He smiled; he seemed quite calm now, and he was leading the situation even though he was going to be the slave. We were nervous, but then we were the novices; presumably he had done this many times before. I glanced at Tom. He had chatted happily about work while we made our way through several glasses of wine, until now – until Richard had moved the conversation on to a personal note. Now Tom had grown silent and watchful.

“Thank you,” I replied, swigging another mouthful of wine. Both men were staring at me; the sexual tension had risen dramatically. “It’s the little black dress,” I added, with a smile. That morning I had told myself that I wasn’t dressed any differently; I always wore stockings, garters and high heels to the office. The little black dress underneath my jacket was the new addition. It was very soft and clingy, and now that I had abandoned the jacket I felt good in it. Besides, what does one wear when one is about to take on a sex slave?

“You want to know what I’ve got in the briefcase, don’t you?” He’d seen me looking at his black leather briefcase when we left the office that evening, the three of us headed to Tom’s and my place for drinks. Yes, I had been curious. I nodded. “I like to wear a mask,” he said. “I’ve brought it with me and I’d like you to put it on for me.”

My sex twitched. The combination of power and deviance he had suggested in that simple comment hit my libido like a narcotic entering the bloodstream.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” I replied, as nonchalantly as I could manage.

Richard stood up, taking off his immaculate suit jacket as he did so, and placing it over the arm of the sofa. He picked up the briefcase and carried it over to the breakfast bar, where he set it down, flicked the combination lock and opened it. Tom and I both watched with bated breath. Richard undid his tie, rolling it slowly and tucking it into a section in the top of the briefcase. Then he lifted something out of the case and turned back to us, leaving the briefcase sitting open on the breakfast bar. As he walked back to me, I stood up.

“It’s perfectly safe,” he said, allaying any concerns we might have in advance. “It was handmade, for me.” He passed the soft, black leather mask into my hand. I turned it, feeling it with my fingers. It was cool to the touch and incredibly soft, molded, with laces down the back and breathing holes for the nose, a closed zip over the mouth. A powerful jolt went through me when I realized that there were no eye holes; Richard would not be able to see what we were doing once he had the mask on. My eyes flitted quickly to Tom and I saw that he had noticed that too. Richard undid his shirt, revealing well-muscled shoulders and torso. He dropped it on the sofa and stood in his black pants, looking from one to the other of us, for our consent.

“Turn around, and I’ll put it on.” Even as I heard my own voice another wave of empowerment roared over me. Richard smiled slightly and inclined his head.

Tom suddenly stood up. “I think you should take that dress off, first,” he instructed. The mask dangled from my hand. Richard’s eyelids fell as he looked at the floor, hanging his head, but I could see that he was smiling to himself. The atmosphere positively hummed with sexual tension. Tom’s instruction had completed the dynamics of the triangle. This was it; the scene was set for action.

I put the mask down on the coffee table and pulled the soft jersey dress up and over my head.

“You can take one look at her, before she puts your mask on.” Tom’s eyes glittered. Richard’s head moved as he looked back over to my stiletto-heeled shoes, up to my stockings and the scrap of fine French lace barely covering my crotch, then up and on to the matching balconette bra that confined my breasts. I knew I looked statuesque and glamorous in this, my most expensive underwear, and I could see that he approved.

“Thank you,” he said, his gaze sinking to the floor again. Before he turned his back he passed something else into Tom’s hands. It was a set of intricately carved manacles. As Tom looked down at the object, Richard turned his back, bent his head and put his wrists behind his back – awaiting both the mask and the manacles. Not only would he not be able to see, he wouldn’t be able to touch. Tom looked at me, his eyebrows lifting, a wicked smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

Tom came forward and enclosed Richard’s strong wrists in the manacles. Then it was my turn to take action and I moved over, heart pounding, and began to ease the mask over his head. It pulled easily into place and I gently tightened the laces, gauging my way until the mask was molded tight and secure over his face. When the knot was done Richard slowly descended to the floor and squatted down on his knees, eyes unseeing, his head cocked, as if awaiting instructions.

We circled him, taking in the look of this creature, as he had now become, kneeling between us in the center of our personal space. I had prepared the room well, with the furniture pushed back and subdued lighting. He knelt between us with his masked head lifted up and back, his strong arms manacled behind him, his cock a discernible hard outline in his pants. With Tom towering over him, Richard presented an image I would never forget.

Tom nodded at me, pushed an armchair forward and indicated that I sit down.

“Do you remember what I said?” He kissed me, then pulled my knickers down the length of my legs and up, over my heels, stroking my ankles as he did so. I nodded. “Good.” He smiled – it was devastating, wicked – and then he grabbed our slave around the back of the neck and urged him forward. “Your mistress is one horny bitch. I want you to go down on her, and make sure you do the job properly. I’ll be watching.” With that, he unzipped the mouth on the mask and slowly lowered Richard’s head into the heat between my thighs.

I couldn’t believe this was happening – Tom was so dominant, so strong and commanding. I was getting wetter by the second. I couldn’t look down at the man between my thighs; I felt a sudden rush of embarrassment and strangeness as he crouched there, unseeing and yet so sexual. My eyes followed Tom as he moved away. He was looking into the briefcase that had been left open on the breakfast bar. What was in the briefcase? I wondered, again. Then I felt the surface of the mask, cold against my thighs as Richard moved his head along them, feeling his way toward the hot niche at their juncture. The tip of his tongue stuck out and I felt its blissful touch in the sticky, cloying heat of my slit. He used his tongue like a digit, exploring the territory of my sex, before he began mouthing me, his tongue lapping against my swollen lips and over the jutting flesh of my clit. It felt so good; my embarrassment was quickly replaced by something else: sheer rampant lust. I tried to stay calm and take my time; I had to resist the urge to gyrate on the edge of the seat and push myself into his obedient face.

After a moment I became aware of Tom’s presence again and looked up, gasping for breath. He had stripped off his shirt, his leanly muscled chest bared for my eager eyes. I purred; he blew me a kiss, and then grinned.

“Stop now.” At the sound of the order Richard’s head lifted, cocking to one side again. “I’ve found some of your other toys and I intend to use them. Do you understand?” Richard nodded. My fingers clutched at my clit, replacing the tongue, keeping myself on the edge while I tried to see what Tom was holding in his hands.

He pocketed a shiny blue condom packet, and gestured at Richard with a stiff leather cock harness. Tom looked dangerous now. He always had a certain edginess about him during sex, but I’d never seen him quite this intense before.

“You really are a deviant one, aren’t you?” He gave a deep chuckle. Richard hung his head in shame. “Oh, but there’s no need to be so embarrassed, we can both see you’ve got a stiffy, Richard.” With that he crouched down on the floor and grabbed at Richard’s belt. He opened the buckle, the button and zipper in the blink of eye and, yes, Richard did have a stiffy – a major stiffy.