Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica - FF by Sinclair Sexsmith

Author:Sinclair Sexsmith [Sexsmith, Sinclair]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1573447854
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2012-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

GENTLEMAN CALLER

Sossity Chiricuzio

You’ve got a job interview today and have traded in your skinny jeans for well-pressed slacks, with all the accompanying bits in place: button-down shirt, tie, and narrow belt—the subtle wingtip details on your shoes the only obvious nod to your fag sensibilities. I’m looking at you, all proper and focused, and I can’t stop thinking about how I want to sit on your lap and muss your hair while murmuring dirty suggestions into the sensitive hollow of your ear. It feels so odd to be drawn by this business drag, until I realize it’s because your gender makes it queer; your brain, perverse. You catch me out, eyeing you, and I refuse to answer your unspoken question until you promise to wear it for me later. Eyes narrowed, you nod, and I say that you look like someone who can afford some…expensive…company. Your grip on my arm, and the quirk of my grin, are all the negotiation we need.

Evening has finally come, after hours of forced productivity and delightful anticipation, and I’m waiting in your room for you to come home. Our love of the game makes the simple gesture of your knock on the door the key to a different reality—one where you are indeed that businessman with a pocket full of cash and pent-up lust, ending a hard day’s work with a stop at your favorite house of ill repute. There’s a rumor of a new girl, and breaking them in is your especial pleasure. We stand on either side of one inch of wood and feel the energy building, crackling, until I almost expect a spark from the doorknob when I finally let you in.

I set the stage with a pink nightie so pale it’s just this side of virginal white, and so thin it’s more naked than skin, flowing over my creamyfat curves. My hair is down, and so is my gaze—it’s apparent this is the first time I’ve ever entertained a client and that I’m both anxious to please and reluctant to start. A perfect mix for your cruel gentleman’s tastes, and you’re obviously controlling yourself as you take in my appearance. There are only two places to sit in the room—the bed, and an easy chair. I opt for the chair as less of a commitment and try to lead you to it, only to be brought up short by your hand at the back of my head, swinging me around and forcing me to look up.

You look deep, searching for my weak spots, and a sign of my desire, and I feel myself slip fully into character—softening for you, scared, but only of getting what I want, or disappointing you. Riding the edge of eager and terrified. Your hand moves up, into my hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging, gently, down, until kneeling is the only option.

“Do you know what to do?” you ask, and my nod is not acceptable—another tug, harder, and I say, “Yes, sir,” and slowly reach for your belt buckle.

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