“You are standing on my—”
“You’re a slave to my energy, right?”
“Yes, I said that. What—?”
“Quiet!” Sabela pointed a manicured fingernail in my face. “You’ve been luring, taunting, even coercing me into your life, into your bed. You will learn now that I only let you think you were in control of the game.”
“It was not a game. I really—”
“You will only speak with permission!” She punctuated “permission” by pushing her fingertip into my forehead. The ferocity of it infused me with new lust.
“Yes, ma’am.” Heat gathered between my legs.
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me! You will not think, act, or breathe without my sayso. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
I was dazed by the craving this game provoked. She freed my hand and helped me up.
“Now get over here and serve me.”
On command, I harnessed my curved black dildo to my waist. Sabela pressed her bare body against the sliding glass door in the den. Told me to enter her from behind. We rocked slowly at first and then built momentum until each stroke caused a sloshing, slapping sound. Sabela clutched the cold metal locks for balance as her breasts flopped against the pane. By force of habit I slid two fingers over the cushy place where her clit used to reside. Her sharp fingernails cut deep into my wrist to chastise me. Even in pain I knew I couldn’t stop thrusting.
“Not without permission,” she reminded me. “Now back off me,” she ordered.
I slid the dildo out of her wetness. She spread her sleek body across the long, rectangular coffee table.
“Take that off and get that book you were telling me about yesterday,” Sabela demanded.
I retrieved Woman, Thou Art Loosed from the shelf. My clit throbbed as I watched the book’s rounded edges glide through her pussy lips. Against her un-clit. Back and forth. She glossed it with her juices.
“Are you ready for real knowledge?” she asked, tossing the book aside. “Speak.”
“Yes.”
She directed me to drape myself over her, 69-style. Her open legs dangled over the corners of the table. With delicate determination, my tongue danced inside her. She gripped my open thighs and sucked my clit in what felt like slow motion.
“Use your teeth,” she instructed.
I raked my teeth over her sacred secret. Her hips jerked and my waves rose with her. Felt like I was floating toward my climax. Back and forth. She raised her hips and I dipped as far inside her as my tongue would reach. Wanted to take her with me. It worked. She clamped her thighs tightly around my neck and I tried to swallow every sweet drop of her. Her tongue tapped wildly inside me, pulling me under. Suddenly I was submerged in orgasm. Suffocating and ejaculating. Pushed to the peak of pleasure, I exploded into a million electric sparks.
That’s when she took me to the next level: she bit me. There. Stinging ecstasy shot through me in every direction. My entire body spasmed as she held me entangled. That shocking bite, the soft insistent sucking that followed, and her slick, swollen pussy gyrating in my mouth sent me into sensory overload. Ripples of orgasms drained me until I collapsed. Game over.
“Was that my initiation?” I asked later.
“No, silly.” She laughed. “That was the erasure of every woman before me and the measure for any after. Still, don’t ever disclose the secret of my body. One slip and we’re done.”
Yeah, I know what’s at stake. But I had to give you my side of things.
Born and raised in Texas, Raquel Moore is currently a graduate student in Florida. When she is not writing her dissertation, she nurtures her soul with hot sex, the company of friends, or a good book. She thanks the ancestors, especially Audre Lorde and James Baldwin, for showing us how to turn suffering and pleasure into equally powerful weapons of resistance. You continue to move us all toward liberation. She also thanks the S.I. for their very special contributions to this story. It belongs to all of us.
Sensei ni Rei
Tigress Healy
F rankie screeched into the parking lot, jerked the car to a stop, and rushed inside to try to explain her lateness again. At this hour, there were no sparring children to avoid, no sneakers to trip over, and worst of all, no students left but her son.
“Darryl,” she called through the one-story building. “Darryl, honey, I’m—”