WARNING: The stories on this page are about the love between two women and may contain explicit love scenes. If you are not 21, or are offended by this type of love - do not go any further. By continuing you are consenting that you are of legal age to read further.
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The setting sun was almost below the water's edge as Kyle pulled off the curving road onto the overlook. She brought the cycle to a halt along the shoulder, well away from the few cars stopped to watch the sunset. She turned the engine off, a long leg down on either side of the heavy machine for support, and pulled her helmet off. Absently, she ran a hand through her dark, wavy hair as she stared out over the ocean. The waves created a soothing, steady rhythm as they crashed and broke on the rocks below. She loved to ride this stretch of coastal highway, even though it was often crowded with tourists who slowed her progress. The road was demanding and she could lose herself for miles in the steady drone of the engine and the hypnotic ribbon of macadam sliding beneath her headlights. While her conscious mind was occupied with the mechanics of driving, her unconscious thoughts would surface, often illuminating some problem that was plaguing her. She didn't question the process; she rarely questioned the workings of her own mind.
Tonight was different. She was aware of a simmering unrest, which had not been dissipated by the twenty-mile drive on the tight, tortuous turns. She wondered how long it would take to identify the source of her unease. She knew from experience that these feelings usually meant something in her life was awry, but she had learned to be patient until the pieces fell together. Being most comfortable with action, she found introspection unsatisfying and frustrating.
Sighing slightly, she reached a hand into the left inside pocket of her leather jacket and found her cigarettes. She fingered one out of the pack, holding it lightly between her lips while she fished the black and gold lighter from the right hand pocket of her tight black leather pants. The tiny flare of flame lit her features for an instant as she touched it to the tip of the cigarette. A chiseled profile, squared chin, and straight, slightly high nose were highlighted briefly in the glow. As the lighter snapped shut, the image disappeared, and her figure became a silhouette against the deepening sky. Kyle hunched her shoulders slightly against the cold wind streaming in from the sea and focused her gaze on the plumes of white spray, which wafted up from a large clump of rocks just offshore. In the silence around her, she could hear her own questioning thoughts.
Why are you out here tonight? Where are you headed?
It had been many weeks since she last made a Friday night journey into the city, seeking the comfort of women together in one bar or another. More often than not, she returned home alone in the quiet hours before dawn, her soul strangely soothed by the memory of others like herself that clung to her all the long ride home. Sometimes she unlocked the second helmet she always carried on the side of her Harley and brought home a woman to fill the emptiness in her body as well as her spirit.
Tonight it was more than just her usual urge for company. She had been unsettled and short-tempered for the last few days, and she knew as she thought about it that she hadn't been herself for weeks. It wasn't the solitude of her life—she was used to that after seven years. She had several good friends, which was more than most people could say, and work that she enjoyed. Her sexual life, if not constant, was fulfilling, and she could have had more if she cared to. She didn't. Recently she was aware of a disquieting sense of frustration that threatened to disrupt the comfortable routine of her life. She hadn't intended to go out tonight, but as if by pre-arrangement, she had set about getting ready as soon as she came into the house from her shop. Without conscious thought, she had showered and donned a crisply ironed white shirt and her leather pants. She tucked a slim leather wallet, contoured to her form from years of use, into her right rear pocket with her license and enough cash to last the weekend. A fresh pack of cigarettes went into the left inside pocket of her favorite leather jacket and the lighter into her pants. She pulled on the jacket and zipped it partway up as she headed through the kitchen. It was as she set the timer, which controlled the floodlights subtly tucked under the eaves of the house, and carport that she realized she was setting out for the city. Still, she had driven twenty miles before she had allowed herself to think about why.
Kyle took a last drag from her cigarette and dropped the butt near the toe of her boot. Carefully she dug a little hole in the gravel of the turnoff and pushed the bit of trash into it. With her heavy black boot, she meticulously covered it with a small mound of stones. She pulled her left leg up to rest on the black tank of her cycle and rested her chin on her knee.
As she had been sitting there, the water sounds gradually surrounded her and separated her in the darkness from the cars steadily streaming along behind on the highway. The pieces had inextricably begun to fall into place. It had started with the newspaper. Not long ago, she had been to the women's bookstore looking for recent novels from her favorite women's press. Disappointed to discover she had all of the newest books, she picked up a few newspapers rather than return home empty-handed. Once at home, stretched out in front of the fireplace with a brandy, she looked through the things she had purchased. The second magazine she picked up was one she didn't recognize by name, but the subtitle, "Woman-to-Woman Encounters," had caught her attention. She quickly discovered that the short stories, articles and poems inside contained some of the most graphic erotica she had ever read in the women's press. It was more than that which surprised her, however. The entire publication was oriented toward issues involving sexual power. Kyle read the magazine cover to cover, and a few days later she went back to the bookstore and picked up the two previous issues.
Looking up at the dark, star-filled sky, Kyle suddenly realized the sun had set without her notice. She also realized something else. She had carefully taken note of the exact address of the bar, which advertised in every issue of the newspaper she had read with such interest. As she started the powerful engine and pushed the bike around to face the highway, she repeated the address to herself one more time.
As Kyle drove through the city, the streets were almost empty, which was unusual for a Friday night. She was used to the crowded avenues and alleys from the years that she had been a city dweller. Even now, many years after she had moved north where the air was cleaner and the stars could be seen at night, she was at ease on the fast-moving streets. She found the address she was looking for in an area mostly frequented by men, but she was sure that the advertisement had specifically said "women." And it was too late now to turn back. Looking up, she saw the sign she had been seeking. In faded letters the logo was clear, "Leathers." Kyle pulled her bike into line with the others already parked there and switched off the ignition. She took a deep breath and made her decision. This was what she had come for, and she was not turning back.
Her footsteps echoed hollowly on the empty pavement as she approached the door. She looked in vain for the sight of a familiar face. No one approached. The door to the bar was slightly ajar and music wafted out into the street. It was a song she recognized from the popular music station. At least she wouldn't feel completely out of place. She took a quick breath as she shouldered through the door into the darkness beyond.
Kyle was not a stranger to new surroundings. She moved through the small crowd near the door as she had so many times before in other strange bars. The room was long, with a bar down the right side and scattered tables off to the left. There was a small dance floor in the center of the room made smaller by people standing about and chairs pushed askew. She walked directly but unhurriedly toward the bar and found a free space. Women leaned against the scarred but polished surface and moved about in the shadows opposite her. At first glance, it looked much like any other lesbian bar on a Friday night.
It wasn't until she caught the bartender's eye and ordered a beer that she looked more carefully around the bar, casually surveying the crowd. With an elbow against the bar and her legs stretched out in front of her, her eyes traveled as she took her first sip. Her vision had adjusted to the semi-darkness of the bar, and as she looked out across the dance floor through the softly wafting curls of cigarette smoke, she focused on the figures before her. Initially it seemed there was a strange sameness about everyone. Then she realized it was because everyone was clothed in some form of leather or denim. Leather jackets, vests and tight jeans abounded. She smiled slightly to herself, realizing that she had unconsciously chosen exactly the right thing to wear. Knowing that outwardly she appeared to be like everyone else made her feel more comfortable, even though she felt anything but confident in this new theater. Nevertheless, the sight of women standing about in groups talking or simply watching each other as she was doing, brought the usual thrill of excitement she always associated with the bars. This was the stage where anything might happen, or anyone might become a player.
After she finished her first beer and started on her second, she began to relax. In a detached, almost objective way, she picked out the women who were attractive to her. One woman in particular stood out from all the rest. She was across the room near the jukebox, standing with several others. About Kyle's age but slightly taller than Kyle's five feet seven inches, she was slender, with an athletic body accentuated by tight blue jeans and a denim shirt open between her breasts. Her blonde hair was medium length, brushed back over her ears, and falling to her collar in the back. Her sleeves were rolled up, exposing a thin leather band encircling her left wrist. As she talked she moved her hands, and Kyle imagined the strength in her well-muscled forearms. The strangers gaze flickered about the room, but she seemed to take little note of the women around her. Her eyes glanced over Kyle's face without stopping.
Kyle felt strangely inhibited. Under other circumstances, she would not have hesitated to introduce herself to someone she found attractive, but tonight she felt uneasy about making the first move. She had a feeling there were rules here she didn't understand. As the evening wore on, she began to see a pattern emerging. When one woman approached another, a distinct polarity developed which was unfamiliar to Kyle. While one woman was clearly the aggressor, the other appeared passive. Yet Kyle, watching with the objectivity of an observer, soon saw that the interplay was not completely one-sided. Often the woman who had initiated contact would leave, apparently her overtures rejected. Obviously, roles existed, but they were not nearly as clear-cut as they first appeared. Kyle had been there for over an hour before her first experience with this ritual occurred.
A woman materialized from the shadows by Kyle's side. There was an almost imperceptible pressure against her left thigh as the woman spoke softly to her.
"Are you just looking tonight, or are you playing?" the voice said in her ear.
Startled, Kyle turned toward the woman beside her and replied, "I'm not sure I know what the game is."
The woman laughed in surprise. "You'd never know that from looking at you."
"Actually, this is the first time that I've been here," Kyle said, turning slightly to study her companion more carefully. She was an inch shorter than Kyle, with curly dark hair and warm, dark eyes. She was dressed in the requisite leather vest and blue denim shirt.
The woman gave Kyle an obvious once-over, extending her right hand casually. "My name is Chris."
Chris shook Kyle's hand warmly before turning her back to the bar to face out across the dance floor. "There's a pretty good crowd for a Friday night, better than I would've expected."
Kyle replied, "I'm not sure what I expected."
"Are you here by yourself, then?"
"Well, from the looks of you, probably not for long."
Kyle laughed. "I think for tonight I'm just watching."
Chris shrugged. "Will you have another beer?" When Kyle nodded her assent, Chris ordered two and took a long pull on hers before speaking again. Finally, she said, "I'm not much on initiations, but I'll tell you anything I can."
Kyle nodded slowly as she sipped at her beer. "Well, I think I get the general idea, but I'm not real sure what the ground rules are."
"It's not much different than any other bar," Chris replied. "It's just that most of the women here have a certain kind of interest, if you know what I mean."
"I think I understand that," Kyle said. "A certain sexual interest."
Chris continued rather hesitantly. "Well, I guess because of that, things kind of work out in a...a certain way," she began. "If someone is interested in you, they're not likely to come up and say, 'Would you like to dance?’ More likely than not they're going to stand next to you and maybe not say anything at all. Maybe they're trying to find out how much you know about what's going on."
Kyle shook her head and said, "I don't think I know exactly what you mean."
Chris tried again. "Some of the women here will feel most comfortable if they take the lead and you follow. Others prefer it if they are told exactly what to do."
"How do you know who wants to do what, then?" Kyle asked, genuinely unclear as to what Chris was trying to tell her.
Chris laughed a little and continued. "After a while it's easy to tell what people are interested in. If you remember what it was like ten or fifteen years ago, it's not all that different now. You probably remember what it was like when the 'butches' always asked the 'femmes' to dance. Even if the femmes did turn out to be butches in bed, they never let on in public."
Kyle smiled as she recalled those times, not unfondly. There had been a certain security in knowing what was expected of you.
"Sure I remember, but it seems that things have changed in the last few years. After all, haven't we been trying to get away from those old roles?"
"Well, things never change that much, " Chris replied. "The sort of thing that goes on in the leather scene doesn't really have a lot to do with the old butch and femme roles, but it does have a lot to do with what these women want to express physically. It's all more up front here."
Okay," Kyle said, definitely interested, "That's clear enough. How do you tell someone else exactly what you're in to?"
Chris surveyed the crowd before them, and said, "Look at that woman leaning against the pole over there."
Kyle followed Chris direction and noticed a woman dressed predominantly in leather -leather pants with a wide, studded belt, heavy black motorcycle boots and a leather jacket covered with zippers. She appeared to be alone and yet she looked at no one.
Chris said, "Well, what do you think?"
"She looks pretty butch to me—like she'd be the one to call the shots," Kyle replied.
"But she isn't," Chris said. "If you look more carefully, there's a few things that tell you just what she's looking for. For instance, her keys are on the right and she's wearing a leather bracelet on her right wrist."
Kyle nodded in agreement, as Chris continued. "She's a bottom, not a top. That means she wants someone to approach her and to tell her exactly what they would like her to do. She wants someone else to take charge."
"Does that mean she's passive, then?" Kyle asked, with surprise in her voice.
"Not necessarily. It just means that in the beginning, at least, she's willing to let someone else determine how things happen. You’d be surprised how often the bottom actually calls the entire scene."
"What if someone approaches her that she's not interested in?" Kyle asked. "Does that mean she has to go anyway?"
"No, not at all. She doesn't reply with the correct answers or she just says, 'No'."
"So she does have something to say about it then?"
Chris appeared startled for a second. "Of course--if she doesn't agree, nothing can happen."
Kyle thought about it and then said, "What if I see someone I like and I want to go talk to her?"
"It depends on how you go about it, " Chris answered. "It could mean you just want to get to know them, or you might be letting them know you’re interested in them sexually. It’s all in how you present yourself."
Kyle reached for a cigarette, slightly daunted. "Certainly seems like a complicated way to get to know people," she said.
Chris nodded. "It seems strange at first, but I think you'll find out it's just another way of saying how you feel." She finished her beer and turned to face Kyle. "I can’t stay, but I hope you do. Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for.
Is that why I’m here? Am I looking for something?
Kyle returned her gaze intently. "I'll be staying."
As the night grew later, Kyle could more easily recognize the subtle signals passing between those around her. She was so involved in watching the others that she failed to notice the woman approaching until her vision was suddenly blocked by the figure before her.
Kyle was startled by the feeling of another body so close to hers. With a sharp intake of breath, she recognized the woman she had seen earlier at the jukebox. So close to her now, Kyle could see that her hair was indeed blond and her eyes a deep blue. Kyle found she had to look up at the woman, who was several inches taller. The stranger looked back at her intently, her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her jeans, her long legs nearly straddling Kyle's. Kyle was at once uneasy and intrigued. When she glanced upward into the woman's eyes she was amazed to see the insolent confidence there. Unaccountably, Kyle dropped her eyes. In that second, she fully realized that she did not know what to expect next.
"Have you figured it all out yet?" a cool voice questioned.
Kyle's head snapped up, heat rising to her face. "I'm not a tourist!" she replied angrily. She might be out of her element here, but she certainly wasn't a sightseer!
"Oh my! Touch a sore spot, did I?"
Kyle started to turn her back—she couldn't believe this woman. Who did she think she was, coming up uninvited and giving Kyle a hard time? She would have told her to "fuck off," but she had learned a little patience over the years and she knew it wasn't worth it.
A hand closed firmly on her upper arm.
"Wait a minute! We're still talking." There was just a hint of laughter in the voice, as if at a private joke that Kyle had missed.
"I don't think we have anything to say. Do you?" Kyle answered, reaching for a cigarette. She felt a little cornered, with her back to the bar, and she needed the ritual of lighting a cigarette to give herself time to think. As she pushed her hand into her pocket for her lighter, a match flared before her.
"That's up to you, isn't it?" the woman said softly, cupping the flame in her long tapering fingers.
Kyle frowned slightly as she pulled on her cigarette, drawing the smoke deeply into her chest. She exhaled slowly, searching the perfectly sculpted, perfectly remote face. "Somehow I thought you were the one calling the shots."
The blond nodded, touching the match to her own cigarette. "Very good - but only if you want me to. Only if you let me—understand?"
Kyle sighed, looking directly into the blue eyes that were calmly searching her face. "I'm afraid that I'm going to disappoint you."
Suddenly the woman smiled, a flickering luminescence that dispelled the aura of aloofness surrounding her until now. Just as quickly, it was gone. "I don't think so."
Kyle felt foolish. This was a woman like her, a woman in a bar filled with other women, all of them linked by a single common bond. What had she been expecting, she wondered, that these women would be so different from all the other lesbians she had known? She had been so caught up in the mystique of the dress and the attitude of these leather-clad figures that she failed to recognize the women beneath the costumes. Her body relaxed as her old confidence returned.
"My name is Kyle," she said.
Kyle raised her eyebrows slightly.
"Chris informed me."
"I'm slow tonight," Kyle said, shaking her head.
The woman was standing only inches away from Kyle, and her next words were spoken so softly only Kyle could hear them. "I'm not rushing you." She had not changed her stance, still standing boldly in Kyle’s view. Kyle realized that this stranger was presenting herself to her, a gesture at once arrogant and vulnerable.
Kyle took advantage of the moment and appraised the figure before her. She had the lean look of a runner as opposed to her own more muscular build. The blond hair which had first caught Kyle's eye was subtly layered and fell naturally back from her forehead, outlining the clean lines of her face. Her cheekbones were sharply sculpted, accentuating her nearly perfect features. Her blue eyes returned Kyle's gaze with penetrating directness.
Kyle forced herself to continue her slow survey, despite her natural urge to look away when she found the stranger watching her. The woman's slim torso was covered in faded denim, her collar and the first several buttons opened to reveal her upper chest. The merest suggestion of breasts pushed against the worn fabric. The shirt molded to her slim waist and her jeans outlined her hips and slender thighs. A well-worn black leather belt rode low over her pelvis. Kyle took note of the few keys hanging from a leather strap on her left hip and a leather band buckled around her left wrist. Kyle's study was interrupted by the woman's steady voice.
"Like what you see?" Her voice was low, intense, intimate.
"Yes," Kyle answered honestly.
"Come dance with me then." It was not a request.
The room came sharply into focus as a low, pulsating beat filled the air. This is it, Kyle. Do you really want to do this?
Without a word, she followed the woman onto the dance floor. There were other couples there, but they quickly faded from Kyle’s awareness as the stranger stepped close, taking Kyle firmly into her arms. As they moved easily together in the crowded space, Kyle felt for the first time the strength contained in her companion's deceptively lithe body. The sheer physicalness of the other woman's embrace awakened her desire. The hand in the curve of her back held her confidently while the woman insinuated one tight thigh securely between Kyle's own. As they danced, the woman's breasts molded to hers, the nipples hard beneath the fabric of her shirt. Kyle’s nipples stiffened in response, painfully taut and aching. The hand on her spine pressed Kyle’s hips rhythmically against that slow-moving thigh, seemingly focusing all the heat of their two bodies into one point between Kyle’s legs. She moaned without meaning to. Kyle could almost feel those long fingers on her skin. Never had she responded so quickly nor so certainly to another's touch. Her mind lost contact with the sounds and forms around her as their bodies sought to fuse, pulsating inwardly to the beat of the music. As Kyle slid her hands down to the woman's hips, striving to pull her closer, hoping to ease the aching pressure, the woman's voice penetrated her swirling thoughts.
"You don't get it for free," the denim-clad stranger whispered. Her breath was hot against Kyle’s ear.
"Tell me the price then," Kyle responded instantly, wanting only for the exquisite torment not to end.
"Later," came the reply. The woman reached one hand up into the hair at Kyle's neck and spread her fingers in the soft curls there. "Come home with me. Now."
For an instant reality intruded. Kyle knew nothing of this woman except the sensations her presence instilled in her body. The blond slipped a hand between them, grasping Kyle’s nipple, sending a flood of arousal directly to her clitoris. Oh, Jesus, god! Kyle’s eyes nearly closed with the sweet torture. The demands of her body obliterated any thought of caution, and she answered to it.
Kyle allowed herself to be led from the bar by the woman's touch on her back. She followed her out into the night on shaky legs.
"What about my bike?" Kyle asked hoarsely as they reached the street.
"We'll take it. I'll tell you where to go," the woman said.
Kyle took a deep breath of the cool night air, hoping to clear her head for the drive. She was uncomfortably swollen inside her tight leather pants. She unlocked both helmets and handed one to the woman.
"What's your name, " Kyle asked quietly.
The woman stared at her for an instant, and for a moment, Kyle thought she wouldn’t answer. "Dane."
Kyle nodded wordlessly as she straddled her motorcycle. She kickstarted the engine and felt Dane climb on behind her.
"Do you know where Church is?" Dane asked, her voice cool once again.
Kyle nodded in acknowledgment.
Dane reached around Kyle's waist and placed both hands in the angle formed by Kyle's thighs and pelvis, commanding, "Drive."
As Kyle maneuvered her bike quickly through the nearly empty streets, she was aware only of the engine throbbing rhythmically beneath her and the pressure of Dane's hands. By the time they reached Church Street and Dane signaled for her to pull over, she was trembling. She needed Dane's hands against her naked flesh, unencumbered by the barrier of leather and denim.
She followed Dane into the vestibule of one of the buildings, scarcely taking note of her whereabouts. Dane led her up a flight of stairs and into a darkened apartment. Once inside the door, Dane said, "Wait here."
Kyle was aware of lights being turned on in other rooms and the sound of soft music. She stood and waited, not thinking at all. When at last she heard Dane's sure footsteps approaching, she body stirred in anticipation. The effect this woman had on her was inexplicable, and in the moment, she didn't try to understand. She was responding purely with her senses, and she liked it. She didn’t want to think.
Dane took her hand, saying, "This way."
Kyle moved behind her into a bedroom lit solely by a soft blue light in a recessed ceiling track. She could make out a small table next to a large rectangular bed which dominated the otherwise bare room. When Dane turned suddenly to face her, Kyle stood absolutely still.
Wordlessly Dane reached for the buttons on Kyle's shirt and began to slowly unbutton them. She was careful not to touch the skin laid bare by her motions. She pulled the shirt out of Kyle's pants and stripped it off her arms.
"Your boots," she said. She stepped back to give Kyle room to bend over. Kyle hesitated only for a second, and then she unbuckled each of her heavy black boots and pulled them off. Naked except for her leather pants, she stood before Dane, waiting. Dane reached out a slender hand and traced the muscles in Kyle's shoulders and arms with a finger. She placed both palms flat against Kyle's chest and pressed, softly massaging the muscles beneath the smooth skin. Her hands moved down to Kyle's abdomen, carefully avoiding her breasts, until she stood with her thumbs together in the middle of Kyle's firm body, her fingers splayed out against Kyle's sides.
The slow, wordless survey of Kyle's body rekindled the fire simmering in her belly. Kyle felt herself swell and flow in response. Her chest was covered with a thin film of sweat. Still, she waited silently.
"Lie down on the bed," Dane instructed, her voice perfectly controlled. "Face me."
When Kyle complied, Dane came to stand at the foot of the bed, her eyes traveling from Kyle's leather-bound crotch slowly up to her face. Her eyes locked onto Kyle's, and she could read the wanting there.
"You can say anything you want to me right now," Dane said, "but after this, no more. I won’t hurt you, but I won’t stop until I’m done."
Kyle looked back at her steadily, searching for a clue as to who this woman was. Dane’s face was clear and strong, and Kyle sensed only honesty.
"I'm all right."
Dane nodded once and then moved purposefully to the side of the bed. She reached somewhere beneath the frame and pulled out soft padded leather shackles attached to short chains. She deftly bound Kyle's left hand and ankle, and then moved to the other side, repeating her actions. When she was done, Kyle was securely but not painfully bound with her arms and legs spread.
Dane stood once again at the foot of the bed between Kyle's outstretched legs. With her gaze fixed on Kyle's face she unbuttoned her own shirt, slowly baring her upper body. Small high breasts accentuated the finely muscled torso, and a pulse beat close to the surface in her throat. Silence enclosed them in the cone of blue light.
Kyle was bombarded with conflicting sensations. The feeling of being helplessly bound was at once frightening and exhilarating. She wanted this woman on top of her, she wanted her inside of her, she wanted more than she could put words to. Her inability to actually seek her own release made her even more acutely aware of her desires. Her clitoris strained against the seam of her pants, threatening to explode just from the constant contact as her hips rocked back and forth. She stifled a groan as she stared transfixed at Dane's body, so close to her and yet so completely untouchable.
After what seemed like hours to Kyle, who had lost all sense of real measure, Dane moved to the head of the bed. From there Kyle was totally exposed to her view but she, in turn, could barely see Dane. Dane placed her hands firmly on either side of Kyle's face with her fingers curled around Kyle's lower jaw. She moved her fingers not ungently over the flesh and bones of Kyle's face, imprinting the physical sense of her in her mind. With one hand under Kyle's chin she pulled her head back, exposing Kyle's neck to its fullest.
"Keep your eyes closed," Dane said tersely when she saw Kyle's eyes searching her face. With her hand still firmly controlling Kyle's head, Dane traced the vulnerable structures of Kyle's throat, feeling Kyle's breath flow in the fragile windpipe and her blood ripple through the pulsating arteries just below the skin. With her fingers pressing the muscles on either side of Kyle's neck, Dane leaned closer to Kyle's face. She ran her tongue lightly from Kyle’s collarbone to her ear. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.
"I don't want you to move. Just keep remembering my hands around your throat while I’m making you come."
Kyle’s hips jerked at her words. She bit her lip to stifle a cry. She had never felt so physically vulnerable in her life. The restraints on her arms and legs were barely perceptible and yet she was totally immobilized. Now, with her throat exposed, locked in darkness, she felt as if she had lost control of her very life. Despite the helplessness of her position, she was powerfully excited. The merest touch was going to set her off.
Dimly, in the last part of her thinking mind, she knew she could break the spell of her own bondage by a word to Dane. But she didn't want to. She wanted to feel what Dane aroused in her. She wanted to know how far into her physical self Dane could take her.
A slight motion near her feet told her that Dane had moved onto the bed. She sensed that Dane was close to her, but she did not open her eyes. Suddenly a sharp sensation centered in each nipple as Dane's hands caught her breasts, squeezing the erect nipples sharply. Kyle gasped at this sudden contact, her back arching, pressing more of herself into Dane’s hands.
Still Dane held back, forcing Kyle to focus all her sexual energy in the two points beneath her fingers, kneading and massaging until she brought a moan from Kyle's parted lips. Only then did she trail her fingers ever so lightly down Kyle's abdomen, watching the tense muscles contract at her touch. Deftly she pulled the snap at Kyle's waist and slid the zipper down on her leather pants. Leaving Kyle for an instant, she released the buckles on the ankle restraints to free Kyle’s legs and remove the last vestige of her clothing. Just as quickly, she re-secured her ankles. Now Kyle lay bound and completely naked before her. The dark triangle of soft hair between Kyle’s legs was glistening with pearly fluid. Dane could almost taste her.
Kyle waited for the next contact from Dane, the entire surface of her body sensitized with need. Where was she?
What Kyle could not sense in the heady mist of her own desire was the control that Dane now exercised on her own raging senses. The image of Kyle lying helpless before her, ripe with readiness, was powerfully erotic. Her clit had been twitching urgently since she first restrained her. Dane ignored her own rising passion so that she could concentrate on bringing Kyle to the razor's edge of ecstasy, and the restraint it required of her was enormous. Dane longed to press herself full-length against Kyle's naked body and feel her move beneath her. She held back, knowing it was not yet time. Soon.
Kneeling upright between Kyle's spread legs, Dane slipped the leather belt from around her waist. She placed it vertically down the length of Kyle's body so that the soft tongue of it rested in the moist fold between Kyle's legs. With the thin barrier of leather between them, she rested her body fully upon Kyle for the first time, her hands pulling Kyle's hips up to meet her own as her tongue sought Kyle’s mouth.
The weight of Dane's body pressed the edges of the belt against Kyle’s distended clitoris, and the roughness against the sensitive tip pushed her close to orgasm. She pulled against her restraints for the first time, wanting desperately to feel Dane with her own hands. Her mouth opened to pull Dane inside and still she could not get enough. She wrenched her head away from Dane's seeking lips.
"Please, no more," she groaned against the sweat-covered skin of Dane's neck. "Please, let me come."
"I'll decide," Dane whispered harshly into her ear, thrusting her denim-clad hips tantalizingly against Kyle's body.
Kyle sobbed deep in her chest and turned her face once again to Dane, claiming her lips.
As their mouths found each other and their tongues met in a probing duel, Dane lifted her body slightly and slipped one hand between their bodies. Her fingers slipped into Kyle's wetness, and Kyle moaned into her mouth. Then she was inside of her, and Kyle's muscles contracted around her hand. Slowly Dane pressed further, feeling the flesh open beneath her. With her thumb she beat an insistent rhythm against Kyle’s clitoris. She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her jaw, determined to resist her own rising need. Kyle, however, would not be denied. Kyle's body arched and bucked as her inner self closed down on Dane's hand, ripples of sensation flooding into her thighs, coiling through her belly. A strangled cry escaped her lips as the pounding in her head fused with that of her body in one tidal wave of unbound fury. Dane gripped her firmly, riding out the raging storm as time hung suspended.
Kyle's body had barely begun to relax from the paroxysms of pleasure when Dane reached up and released the restraints on her arms and then her ankles. Kyle was dimly aware of Dane gently massaging her wrists and then rolling her over onto her stomach. She was drifting on the edge of consciousness when Dane straddled her hips from behind.
Suddenly Kyle was jolted back to the moment by the pressure of Dane's body moving against her and Dane's ragged breath in her ear. Kyle pushed her hips upward to meet Dane's downward thrusts, reaching an arm back to encircle Dane’s neck, pulling her close. All of her energy immediately focused on bringing Dane the same pleasure she had just experienced. Dane’s hips jerked erratically as her fingers clenched Kyle’s upper arms. There would be bruises. When Dane stiffened against her, moaning uncontrollably, Kyle closed her eyes, triumphant.
Continue on to Part 2
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