Frisson, Guest Post by Kathleen Delaney-Adams

Content: this post contains a gang bang, possessive language, name calling, sex, whips, and a public scene.

Wrists and ankles trussed together, Delilah fought to stay on her feet. Her arms and legs ached from effort, her exposed pussy slick with hunger. She moaned softly, struggling not to wiggle her ass in the air like she was begging for it. She heard murmurs of approval at her position, felt the stares of strangers raking over her flesh. God help her, she was begging for it. But she had been ordered to wait, to hold herself upright and still. She waited.

An hour earlier, Delilah had wandered the club, somewhat disenchanted, definitely bored. The scenes that night were lukewarm at best, amateurish to her seasoned experience. She played hard, she played long, and she was not the sort to bow down to any old Top in the room. The crew tonight seemed to expect that of her, and she kept her distance. Choosing to bide her time and keep her eyes peeled for potential in the midst of greenness, she circled the outskirts of the room.

When she spotted Von across the sea of inexperience, her heart leapt into her throat. A salt and pepper butch with volumes of confidence and expertise, Von was the sort to make a girl want to roll over onto her back and spread her legs as soon as she swaggered into the room. Damn, but Delilah was hot for her. She had observed Von’s skills at many a party, had even enjoyed a choking and gagging blow job with her in the back seat of her car on one memorable occasion. She had grown to respect and admire Von, and considered her a friend. Taking care to swish her ass provocatively as she crossed the room, Delilah greeted her warmly when she arrived at her side.

Von tossed an arm casually around her shoulders as Delilah sparkled up at her.

“You look gorgeous,” Von murmured appreciatively, and Delilah all but purred.

After several moments of small talk, Von perused the room thoughtfully, then turned her attention back to Delilah.

“Up for it tonight?” She queried.

“Yes!” Delilah’s immediate and enthusiastic answer drew a laugh.

Their negotiations were brief, thorough, and easy with the understanding of some shared history.

“I will take care of you for the evening, and in return I expect that you will be completely honest with me if I cross a line or go too far. Other than that, you are entirely mine for the rest of the night and will do all I ask. Do you understand?”

Delilah nodded, trusting both Von and her own limits.

Von shook her head. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I understand,” Delilah’s face was open, an invitation. And with those few words she placed herself into Von’s capable hands.

Von undressed her slowly, her eyes never leaving Delilah’s face. Sliding the straps of her slip from her shoulders, Von kissed her skin with a tenderness that surprised her.  She shivered deliciously as the slip dropped to her ankles. Von lifted her legs one at a time, and kicked the slip aside. She crouched down to trace the lace edge of Delilah’s stocking with one finger until she was quivering.

“Mmm. These are nice. You may keep them on.” Von winked.

She cupped Delilah’s tits in her hands, working them over gently. Her nipples became erect the moment Von put her hands on them, and Delilah arched her back, granting Von greater access to her. When Von lowered her head to Delilah’s nipple, her mouth was greedy, sucking and tugging on her tit until she was gasping for breath. When she suddenly used her teeth to tear into Delilah’s tender breast, she cried out in pain.

Von lifted her head and slapped Delilah’s face. Hard. Delilah bit her lip to keep from crying out again.

“Did I say you could make a sound?” Von growled.

She shook her head.

“Answer me when I ask a question.” Von’s tone brooked no argument.

“N-no. No.” Delilah felt a twinge of her first real fear.

“Then keep quiet. You may do nothing until I tell you to. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good.” Von nodded, apparently satisfied for now, and Delilah felt herself relax again.

Von removed a coil of hemp rope from her bag.

“Bend over. Grab your ankles.” She commanded, and Delilah complied. It was that easy.

Von positioned Delilah’s legs slightly apart, stabilizing her on her spiked heels before working the rope between her legs and around her wrists. The hemp was abrasive and smelled like damp earth, and her head swam with longing.

Von tugged on the knots, running her fingers under the rope to ensure it wasn’t too tight. When she judged all to her standards, she straightened and placed her hands on Delilah’s waist. Her touch was a light caress, just enough to drive her mad. Von’s hands explored her, sampling her round bottom, opening her pussy and rubbing her clit teasingly, kneading her thighs. Tears of desire coursed down Delilah’s cheeks at this inspection, her thighs sticky with her juice. Von’s hand was in her cunt now, pumping slowly in and out of her until her hips rocked in response. Just as she was driven to an edge she felt she could not bear to cross, Von abruptly withdrew her hand.

“Oh.” It was barely a breath, but when Von heard her utter it she smiled to herself. She had Delilah where she wanted her.

“Tell me you are mine,” she hissed. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I am yours,” Delilah breathed, her voice thick with desire for it. For Von to belong to her. Yes. She meant it with her entire being. For this scene, for tonight, for the next 20 years — at this moment in time, Delilah wanted it all.

“Tell me you are my whore.”

Delilah stammered. “I am your whore.”

“Tell me you would do anything for me.”

“Anything. Anything.” The word reverberated in the air between them.

Von snapped her fingers. Delilah felt it before she glimpsed out of the corner of her eye a small crowd moving in closer around them, a crowd she had not even been aware of until that moment. A handful of queers now leering at her lithe, naked body, their desire for her obvious and disconcerting. A ripple of wolf whistles and catcalls pierced the otherwise all too quiet room. Were all these people with Von?

Delilah’s fear was back, her body trembling with anticipation and a twinge of anxiety.

“Von?” It wasn’t so much a question as a searching for something, perhaps comfort. Delilah wasn’t entirely certain, her nerves fraught.

“Shh. Close your eyes.” It was a command, not a request, but spoken kindly. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited.

The waiting was the worst. Moments, hours, she had no concept of time. Her limbs strained with the effort of holding still, of staying upright on her now wobbly legs. And yet, more than her fear, more than her pain, more than anything else she wanted to please Von. As she realized that, took it in and allowed herself to relish it, her pussy ached with need. She gave herself over to that need, embraced it, and with that, began to thoroughly enjoy herself and the attention she knew was focused on her.

When she felt hands roving over her skin, she shuddered as much from revulsion as from excitement. Although she had been expecting it, she felt completely unprepared for the vulnerability of so many strangers pawing at her flesh. It was exhilarating, terrifying, and oh so powerful. Basking in that power, Delilah raised her ass higher, opening herself up and giving her audience a better view. Her subtle move was met with a round of applause, and a deep chuckle from Von.

“Enjoying yourself, are you? Such a whore.” Von slapped her ass hard enough to leave an instant red welt. Delilah lifted her ass even higher, seeking more.

The first lash of the whip struck her in the tender spot between her firm cheek and the top of her thigh, just above her stocking. She rocked on her heels before collecting herself for more. After that initial, almost flirtatious lick of leather, the blows of the whip came fast and strong. Delilah writhed beneath the lashing, a mix of pain and pleasure. She was on fire, both her cunt and her cherry red bottom a fury of liquid heat. It was delicious, the whip her favorite instrument of torture. Did Von know this? Her mind struggled to remember if Von had witnessed her submit to whip play in the past, or if this was merely one of the many implements with which she was so skilled. No matter, Delilah relinquished all thoughts and embraced the physical sensations assailing her. Pain, arousal, surrender, the deepest desire and pleasure — she succumbed entirely. Her pussy and thighs were soaked with juices. Delilah felt sure she could come at any moment from the intensity of this experience alone.

Jolted out of her state of pure feeling by the cessation of the lashings, Delilah moaned softly. Her tender flesh hurt, her legs and arms in agony from holding her position for so long. As if she could read Delilah’s mind, Von reached down to untie the rope that bound her. She loosened the knots, untangling the rope and letting it fall to the ground. She gently massaged the blood flow back into Delilah’s ankles and wrists, then wrapped her arms around Delilah and pulled her to her chest. She melted into the strength she found there, and closed her eyes, resting. Her respite was brief, however, as moments later Von straightened her and held her at arm’s length.

“I’m not done with you yet, whore. Can you take more?”

Delilah nodded immediately, then recalling earlier instructions, answered, “Yes.”

“I’ll allow you to stand for this, give you a bit of a break. But you must not open your eyes. If you do, we will be done with you. Eyes stay closed, arms stay out to your sides. Ready?”

Delilah assumed the position, her arms held out in a way that left her feeling completely exposed to the room. Again, the hands of strangers grabbed at her, pinching and caressing her skin simultaneously. It was almost too much, and she was dimly aware of the tears on her cheeks. Her breasts were handled roughly, twisted and pulled at until she felt raw and bruised. Her nipple was sucked into someone’s mouth, teeth nibbling at it mercilessly.

Someone’s hands grabbed her thighs, prying her legs open even wider. The cold air on her heated pussy rendered her weak with lust, and she wiggled her cunt despite her best intentions of holding absolutely still. She was rewarded with a hard slap to her sex, but the torment of her captors continued without interruption.

The sudden thrust of a rubber cock into her ass was so startling she screamed. She was pinned for a moment, immobilized by pain. Then whoever was inside her began to move, thrusting herself in to her base and out again, ripping her ass open. Pumping hard into her, grunting in her ear, her hands a steel vice on Delilah’s waist holding her on her feet while she claimed her. It was brutal and beautiful agony, being fucked like that by god knew whom, and she began to thrust back in time with the rhythm, squatting a bit lower so she could better take it.

She pulled out of Delilah before she came, so abruptly Delilah nearly toppled over. Delilah’s hair was twisted in strong fingers, and her head jerked back. Someone — Von? — hissed in her ear.

“I’ll have every hole before I am done with you.”

“Please.” Delilah had only that word. “Please.” Uttered again and again. She needed to come. She was terrified Von would not let her.

A large hand slid inside her cunt to the wrist. Delilah opened easily, ready for it, and moved against it, trying to rub her engorged clit on it. Someone laughed cruelly, the hand withdrew, and Delilah splashed onto her own legs and the floor. Her arms were lowered and pulled behind her back, thrusting her tits upright. They were slapped with increasing force as Delilah squirmed, with hands or a paddle she could not be sure and dared not peek. She did not want this to end, and would not risk the displeasure of her tormentors.

Again, that cruel laughter.

Delilah was hoisted into the air in strong arms, her legs wrapped around someone’s waist. She heard the sound of a zipper, a sound she considered the utmost in foreplay, and the tearing of a condom wrapper. Her thighs and stomach were slapped and battered by another rubber cock. It was demeaning. It was divine. She arched her back, moving her pussy closer.

“Oh, I’ll give you more, whore. You are going to take every inch of me.” She recognized Von’s voice and cheered inwardly, craving her inside her cunt.

Anticipating the cock that pierced her pussy did not take away from the thrill when it happened in the least. The contrary. Long and swollen with hunger for her, Von’s cock took her slowly at first, with a languid thrust that left her feeling she would die without more.

“Please.”

Again, that one word. Delilah was rewarded instantly, the cock ramming her, tearing into her with thrust after jackhammer thrust. Riding that cock, she begged for more, begged to come, shouting nonsense beseechingly, her pussy keening with need.

“Yes. Come, whore. Come now.”

And she did, her desire spilling over, her body wild with it, jerking and flailing against the people who held her down. She sagged briefly, panting, then came again with no less force.

Completely and utterly spent, satiated, Delilah could barely move as Von finished herself off before pulling out. Delilah felt empty immediately.

She was laid on the floor gently. Someone brought a pillow, lifted her head to slide it under her. One of the women stroked her hair tenderly, another held her hand and kissed it. She was soaked with sweat and sex, and thoroughly exhausted. Her eyes still closed, she felt rather than saw that the crowd was thinning. It must be over. Both relieved and disappointed, she focused on regaining her breath. Although the hands stroking her were soothing, she shivered, her muscles still contracting.

“Open your eyes.”

She did, to find Von standing over her, her cock still in her hand. She stroked it casually, a sexy smile on her face. Delilah could not help but smile back in return. God, she wanted Von all over again, even now.

Delilah’s eyes widened when Von unrolled a fresh condom and covered her cock with it in one smooth motion.

“I said I intended to take every hole, remember? I will own you, whore.”

Delilah gasped and attempted to raise herself up on her elbows.

Von gently put her boot in the center of Delilah’s chest and nudged her back down.

“Stay where you are. Don’t move. And open that pretty little mouth for me.”

Delilah traced her tongue over her lips to moisten them, unaware that the simple gesture caused Von to swell all the more. She knelt over Delilah and slid the tip into her mouth, just enough for her to suck at the head. Delilah lapped and licked at it, surprised to once more be incredibly aroused. How could she be this greedy for yet more? But she was, and she drew Von in to the base of her throat, gagging on the girth. Von moved slowly, relishing every flick of Delilah’s tongue, every pull of her lips, allowing her need to build with Delilah’s.

Von fucked Delilah’s mouth deeply, savoring her, and she choked on her cock, tears in her eyes, aching to come once more. As if Von could again sense her thoughts, she reached one hand back and ran her fingers lightly over Delilah’s clit. Delilah spread her thighs open for Von, and she worked her back up to the edge. She exploded against Von’s hand, crying out as she came, never breaking the momentum of what she hoped was the blow job of Von’s lifetime.

Delilah could smell herself on Von when she grabbed her face in both her hands and held her still. Von stopped sliding herself in and out of Delilah’s mouth, stopped moving altogether. Pinned beneath Von, unable to move, Delilah raised her eyes to meet hers. Von smiled down at her as she came. Delilah wanted to drink it in, take it inside her, and although it caused her to choke all the more, she laughed with pure joy.

Von sagged for a moment, gasping. Her cock dangled in the air above Delilah’s face. Emboldened by the obvious thrill she just gave Von, Delilah kissed the tip of her dick lightly. Von opened her eyes, raising her brows at Delilah’s daring move. When Von winked at her, Delilah relaxed visibly.

“You were a good girl.” Von smiled at her as she pushed herself to her feet. Delilah had the grace to blush.

Delilah remained on the floor, limp with exhaustion, while Von conferred with the handful of observers left. Just as she began to slip into sleep, she felt hands behind her back raising her to her feet. She stood, blinking in the suddenly glaring light at the faces smiling at her.

“You may thank everyone now.” Von nudged her forward with a firm hand on the flat of her back.

Head bowed in deference, Delilah moved from person to person, kissing a hand if it were held out to her, accepting the generous embraces a couple of folks offered. She was surprised to discover that she was not merely acting out a scene anymore. She felt profoundly grateful to have been used by strangers, gorgeous even, like a work of art the group had created. She could not recall ever having felt so moved by a public scene.

When Delilah came to Von, she knelt gracefully before her, tears in her eyes. It was a presentation of sorts, an offering. She held her breath, praying she would be accepted, petrified of disapproval, rejection. The events of the last two hours had shifted something inside her, and she knew instinctively there was no going back. She felt decidedly sure she was ruined for anyone else.

Von’s hands reached for Delilah’s face, lifting her head. She brushed her mouth tenderly with her own and smiled.

“Yes.” One simple word from Von. It was that easy. Delilah’s heart soared.

Lying Down, Guest Post by Kathleen Delaney-Adams

Excerpt from Dirty Dates edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, published by Cleis Press. Reprinted with permission

She presents her back to me, unadorned and shivering in the early morning air. I know she loathes to being naked, the humility and vulnerability of it, so the fact that she’s offered it to me has moved me greatly, made me rock hard. She is spectacular, standing in the middle of the living room, her eyes blinking sleepily, her body already melting in anticipation.

I have surprised her with this, barely allowing her to finish her first cup of coffee before ordering her to take off her clothes and give me her flesh. Although this is our ritual, a Sunday morning play-date we rarely, if ever, miss, I am usually gentle with her. I allow her to wake slowly and warm up to the day, serve her coffee in bed, warm up to the day. The ways in which we arouse each other during these weekly assignations are myriad indeed, sometimes kinky, always juicy. This morning I want kink, demanded it of her. Although this is unexpected, she has scurried to please me, collecting my whips, the lube, the condoms, arranging them within easy reach on the coffee table before she stands before me and offered herself up. She is eager for my instructions, always. I run my hand down the skin of her creamy back and murmur, “That’s a good girl.”

She quivers in response and raises her eyes to mine.

“I didn’t say you could look at me, girl,” I hiss, and we are on.

She knows the drill, eyes now downcast as she slips into her submission. There is a smirk of pleasure and excitement playing about her lips. I should punish her for her sass, but her morning face is so pretty that I decide to allow it. For now.

The first licks of my galley whip are a tease, a flirt of leather on her skin. Kisses promise more to come and render her shaking with desire and a bit of fear.

I like the fear. I let it build slowly, increasing the intensity of the lashes she is receiving until she moves her body in expectation of them, a slight shifting toward the whip. I laugh and hit her pussy, not gently. She moans and spreads her legs open for me, for more.

“Ooh, you liked that, didn’t you, you whore?”

“Yes. Yes, Daddy.” Her voice is breathy.

I hit her pussy again, harder, first with the tails then the handle of the whip. She is moaning louder now, gasping. She blinks back the first sign of real tears—tears of pain or need, I’m not sure—but I give her more nonetheless.

When I stop abruptly her body jerks in response, stiffening, then softening and leaning back toward me. She sniffles, and I flick the whip gently through her hair, letting it caress her long red curls as if it were my fingers touching her.

She has told me it makes her feel cherished, when I beat and whip her flesh, when I fuck her hard and without lube, when I make demands of her. But I want to remind her she is also cherished now, in between the pain—that my whip can be both a brutal weapon and a tender one.

I reach around with my hands and squeeze her tits, rubbing my thumbs over her nipples, tugging them. I slide slowly down her belly, my fingers finding her slick wet pussy. She cries out and stumbles, losing her balance, when I shove three fingers inside her.

“Mmm, nice and wet for me, just the way I like you.”

Just as quickly I pull my hand away. My cock grows even stiffer when she cries out again and there is no mistaking her hunger.

I begin to whip her in earnest now, letting it build, slicing the whip into her skin with enough force to leave marks. That tender spot just under her ass is my favorite, the blood rising to the surface almost immediately in a sweet red welt.

She is fighting to stand still, moaning and sobbing, her entire body quaking. I land a series of intense blows on her back, and she sobs harder, in pain.

“Turn around,” I growl, and she obeys immediately.

Her teary eyes meet mine, her mouth swollen and quivering, and I want to tear into it, bite it, draw blood. I can see juice on her thighs, her pussy glistening. Her eyes are pleading. I know she wants more. She doesn’t have to beg—I’m not done yet—but I decide to make her anyway.

“Have you had enough, girl?” I ask. She starts to shake her head, than catches herself; she knows I prefer she answer me when I ask a question.

“N-no. No.”

“Do you want more then? Tell me you want more.”

“Yes. Yes, please. Please.” Her begging is not part of our play. I know she means it, and I am so stiff for her I might explode.

“Lift your arms for me.”

I demand full access to that delicate flesh. I want to devour her. Instead, I settle for my whip’s access, the ferocity of my own need barely restrained as I slice the tender skin of her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. Her nipples are hard, her breath rasping, her lips trembling. She bites her lower lip to keep from crying but she can’t stop the flow of tears, the sobs. When I lash out at her pussy, she again opens her legs for me, rocking her hips forward so I can better reach her clit, moving back and forth in time with the leather. This is a dance we have perfected over time, a dance not just of desire but of devotion.

I can’t wait a moment longer to enter that tight pussy, and I lay down the whip and grab her, pressing her against me. She collapses in my arms, simply melting, and I feel her wet cheeks buried in my neck.

Read the rest of the story in the anthology Dirty Dates edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, published by Cleis Press. Get more information about the Dirty Dates anthology here. Thanks for letting me reprint part of it!