Gentle, insistent pressure roused Jessica from sleep, and breath warmed her ear before someone’s lips closed around the lobe. A hand eased between her bare thighs; she spread them without thought. She sucked in a breath as the caress of kisses fell to her cheek and an unseen tongue painted a molten path to the corner of her mouth. Jessica turned towards the sensation and parted her lips, even as the fingers between her legs parted those. Smooth skin slid over her as one of her lovers pressed in close. She didn’t know which one, and didn’t care.
A feminine murmur made its way through the fog. “Jess. Put on your strap-on.”
She had several, but she knew instinctively which one was meant: the double-ended toy in the nightstand drawer. Jessica fumbled to obey. It was Sanneke on top of her: her Belgian wife, over ten years’ Jessica’s senior. Sanneke was the only woman in the household who could get away with such a demanding seduction, with ordering rather than begging. It was San’s confidence and fire that made her so attractive, and gave Jessica such sadistic joy in putting her back in her place.
Sanneke pressed something into the younger woman’s palm as Jess tried to stretch across the mattress towards the nightstand. It was long, smooth, and cylindrical; gently curved and with a flared, bulbous head.
“I’ll get the harness.” The brunette withdrew her fingers from where they’d caressed Jessica’s mound, and pressed them to her mouth instead. They were heavy with scent and touched with slickness. Jessica’s tongue slipped out to taste herself, and Sanneke’s tongue met it around a damp fingertip. “I love you,” she whispered, before pulling away.
The Belgian slipped off the bed and went to pull open the closet doors, while Jessica stayed wrapped in the sheets. Still groggy and lust-fogged, she fumbled with the silicone phallus under the linen. Its cool head slid over her slit and through her damp folds; she sucked in a breath of protest and continued. It would warm up.
Sanneke’s weight shifted the mattress. Jessica opened her eyes. Her disheveled wife straddled her with the grace of long practice and cleared the brown waves of hair from her face with a toss of her head. In one hand she held a mass of black leather and steel that jingled as she moved.
They didn’t need to talk. San leaned down to steal a fiery kiss before setting to work with the harness. Jess needed do nothing more than lift her hips. Within a minute the tangle of straps had transformed into a loose but supportive web, with one end of the dildo standing upright through the O-ring hole.
Jessica knew the routine. She opened her eyes and met Sanneke’s with defiant expectation. She was the Dominant in the relationship, younger or not, and Sanneke existed to serve her. San would do it and do it well, unless she wanted to provoke a hair-trigger temper and a violent reprimand. Sometimes, that was part of the game.
Tonight, Sanneke was eager to please. The wide attentiveness of her eyes; the sensual way she parted her lips. There was an energy to her that Jess recognized: love that bordered on devotion, thick with wanton lust. Her hand wrapped around the shaft of the phallus and stroked it as she held Jessica’s gaze. All the way up the eight inch length; twisting near the tip; firmly back down. She exhaled on the downstroke, sharing the breath with her soulmate, and pressed the lower end of the toy up against Jessica’s entrance. Jess bared her teeth in response and thrust her hips up to meet it. Patience had never been one of her virtues.
The flared head stretched her open; the grimace became an audible snarl. Discomfort yielded to pleasure the violet shaft sank into her sex. Sanneke’s eyes stayed wide and bright, but a victorious smile tugged at her lips. One hand moved over the exposed length as her other slid down and pressed the toy deeper into her young lover. Jessica squirmed and pushed herself onto her elbows for a better view. The art of it, the passion that her wife put into the play, made it feel all the more real.
A few more firm strokes lodged the shorter, thicker end of the toy deep inside Jessica’s pussy. Sanneke’s open-mouthed smile spread to the other side as well as she leaned down, tilted her head, and let her lips brush along the purple phallus Jess now sported. Her hands sought out the buckles of the harness and cinched them tight. A sharp yank on each strap ensured they were firmly anchored. They had to be, with how rough Jess liked to fuck.
Now that the strap-on was set, Sanneke took both hands to her wife’s tool. One hand started at the tip, encircled it, and slid down the shaft. As soon as it reached the base, the other hand repeated the motion. Each tug and push jostled the end inside the other woman, conducting a simulacrum of sensation deep into her core.
“I was thinking,” Sanneke murmured.
“What ab- about it?”
A knowing smirk curled her lips at the hitch in Jessica’s breath. She switched directions, running her palm and curled fingers from base to tip. The other hand dipped low to cup non-existent balls; her fingers splayed across the black leather plate of the harness and teased the bare, milk-white thighs on either side. Jess hissed in answer, jerking under the sensation. Their shared love of imagination made a potent cocktail.
“That you’d bend me over,” Sanneke reminded her, with low molten heat. “That you’d whore me out to everyone you pleased. That you’d fuck me, every single day.”
“You’d like it,” Jess spit. She ran her hands up San’s legs where they straddled her, then drug them back down with her fingers curled into claws. Faint red lines blossomed across tan flesh, and above her San arched and whimpered. “You’d beg for it.”
“Yes,” she promised huskily. Both hands wrapped around the violet shaft, and she began working it up and down in time to the pulse of her hips. Her eyes closed; her lips parted. There was a moment of silence as Sanneke summoned back the persona she’d played. The shift was subtle, but Jessica knew her wife inside — deep inside — and out.
When her eyes opened again they were want-dazed slivers of ocean blue. “Fuck me, Miss Vanderbilt,” she whispered. “Please fuck me.” Her hands continued their steady, firm strokes, turning and twisting as they travelled over the veined silicone. The rock of her body matched it, and each circuit was matched with a grind of her sex against Jessica’s upper thighs. The smear of her arousal painted Jessica’s skin. “I need it.”
Jessica’s hand gripped and squeezed a bare, lovely breast. Sanneke’s nipples were already taut, visible as dark pebbles in the dimness. “Slut,” she accused.
San drew in a sharp breath as the nails dug into her skin, but her rhythm never faltered. Her palm swirled around the tip of the strap-on, coaxing it with as much adoration as she would a flesh and blood member. “Your slut. Your whore.”
“Mine.” New lines of angry skin came to life as she raked her nails over her wife’s stomach. She arched her hips up with each tug and push of the dildo. Each time she did, it shifted inside her and added to the fantasy. “Say it!”
“Yours. I’m yours.” Her hands left the toy and moved to either side of Jessica’s head, pressing into the lush pillow. Jessica’s raven hair spilled across the sheets like flowing ink. Sanneke lifted herself and crawled forward until her spread thighs and wet sex hovered above the tip of her lover’s shaft. “Yours for anything,” she murmured, tilting her hips to let the purple toy slide over her slit. “… may I ride you? Please, Ma’am?”
Jessica’s sibilant permission accompanied her palms pressing to Sanneke’s hips. She didn’t pull, despite the temptation; instead she watched, her breath coming in short and shallow pants, as the older woman slowly lowered herself down. Jess could see the bulbous head spread open her wife’s nether lips. Up again; the tip glistened. Sanneke stared in rapt attention as she rolled her hips. The ritual was part of their lovemaking: watching each other at the moment of union, when taking and giving combined.
Inch by inch the Belgian woman worked herself down on the toy. Each small shift and pulse of her core eased it in further. She watched Jessica with unashamed want, and smiled when the emotion was reflected back at her. The strap-on sank into her, deeper and deeper, until she felt the familiar texture of leather meet her folds. She let out the breath she’d unconsciously been holding now that she was properly impaled. Her hands finally left the pillow and found a new home on Jessica’s barely-there breasts. They cupped and squeezed with rhythmic adulation.
“Thank you, Miss Vanderbilt,” she whispered.
Now Jessica urged at her, pulling Sanneke down with each rock of their bodies. Her teeth were still bared in a mute and unconscious snarl. Each sinuous roll was assisted with a push of her leather-strapped hips, pressing up and in when Sanneke’s motion reached its nadir. Each thrust forced a breath from their chests; thin crescents of pain bit into skin. Neither cared if they bled; if they did, so much the better.
“I’m never letting you go,” Jessica warned the brunette atop her. “My personal fuckslave, every day of your life.”
San nodded, back arching as she slid down the shaft, breathing through parted lips.
“I’ll use you like the cheap tramp you are.”
“Yes, Miss Vanderbilt.”
“I’ll whore you out and watch you take it, any fucking time, any fucking where, any fucking one I want, do you hear me, Sanneke? It’s all you’re good for.”
Their rhythm quickened by the second, both women driven by the sharp heat of lust. Jessica yanked San down onto her cock as she speared up to meet her, forcing it in as deep and hard as her supine position allowed. Sanneke’s graceful rock transformed into a desperate bounce astride her wife’s hips. The smack of wet flesh against black leather echoed off the bedroom walls. The strap-on stabbed into her in a punishing rhythm; she forced herself down on it over and over. The kiss of pain added to the steadily building crest.
One hand darted between her thighs and sought out the nub of her clit to add another bolt of sensation. “Yes! Yes, Miss Vanderbilt, please! Anyone, anywhere; fuck me!”
“Your ass is mine!”
The claim was punctuated with a stinging slap to Sanneke’s bouncing breasts and a vicious twist of a rock-hard nipple. Sanneke mewled and moaned, her head falling forward as every conscious thought focused on the phallus inside her and the woman wielding it.
Her ass. The thought hit Jessica’s mind like a thunderclap. After five years together and three years of marriage, there was still one part of Sanneke that Jessica hadn’t claimed: her ass. Jess had certain… hang-ups about it. How degrading it was; how taboo. As she stared up at her writhing wife, lust made the decision for her. Half-snarling, Jessica was up, barking commands and licking her lips. “Hands and knees,” she ordered, delivering another smack. “Now! Hands and knees!”
Sanneke nodded rapidly. She was trembling and breathless as she pulled herself off the violet rod; it slid out of her coated in slippery nectar. She went to all fours where she was, next to where her wife lay. Jessica hauled herself upright, clawed her black waves out of her face, and panted with hunger as she shuffled to kneel behind Sanneke’s rear.
“Mine,” she mumbled, gripping the strap-on with one hand. She steadied and guided the swollen tip as she dragged it through her wife’s glistening folds. Strands of sticky arousal clung to it. “You’re mine.”
“Yes,” Sanneke agreed, her head still hung where she braced on hands and knees. Her hair fell in a chestnut curtain over her face. She instinctively parted her thighs and hollowed her back, pressing back into the sensation.
“All mine.” The mushroom tip of the toy slid back from clit to hole, then retreated further still. She laid her other hand on Sanneke’s rump and spread her cheeks apart. “All. Mine.”
Sanneke caught her breath and tensed as she realized Jessica’s aim. It left again in a rush; she licked her lips and mentally urged herself to relax. The smooth silicone pressed against her pucker, testing her resistance. “Yours,” she whispered. “Every part of me.”
The tip was easy. All that pressure and then release, as it finally squeezed past her ring. Jessica watched with fascination. Her hands shook where they held onto her wife, and her heart thundered in her chest. She didn’t pause. Stopping, even for a moment, was no longer an option. It was everything she could do to keep this first stroke slow and steady when her mind screamed fuck her! The toy advanced inch by inexorable inch, and soon Sanneke was squirming in discomfort.
Her fingers curled into the blankets as she tried to keep her body lax. The toy was nearly half-way up her ass before the building ache made her risk speech. “Ma’am. Ma’am, could you–”
“Shut up. You don’t fucking talk, Sanneke,” Jessica hissed. “You don’t exist. You’re a cock-sleeve, so shut your goddamn mouth!”
Sanneke nodded, biting her lip and dropping her chin. She went back to focusing on her breathing and keeping herself calm. It didn’t hurt, but the toy’s length wasn’t meant for this. And she was out of practice.
“Better,” Jessica muttered after a moment. Her cock stopped its advance with several inches still protruding from her wife’s ass. She urged it on with greater force. A feral grin slashed across her lips when Sanneke’s entire body twitched with a muted whimper, and the toy managed one inch more. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah that’s better.”
She held it there a moment, then pulled back with the same slow and deliberate motion. She could feel Sanneke relax again as the pressure eased. Jessica pulled the strap-on completely out… and then repeated the entire process. The head pressed against Sanneke’s asshole and steadily spread it open; inch after inch of the violet rod disappeared inside. She hit that soft stop again a little over half-way, and again forced Sanneke to take just a little bit more.
The third pump of her hips started to pick up speed as Jessica’s lips drew back and bared her teeth. Maybe she’d train San to be a proper ass-slut after this. She’d teach that whore how to bottom out with a cock up her ass. Maybe she’d start now.
“You like that, don’t you?” she accused. Her hand slid from Sanneke’s rump and up over her spine, seeking out a handful of dark hair when it reached her head. It was the perfect handle to bow her back and force her pretty little face towards the ceiling. “Answer.”
She gasped as Jessica’s grip tightened. “It– it’s– been a while, Ma’am.”
“You like it,” she insisted. A familiar furious heat simmered in her heart and between her legs. It egged her on: the urge to claim and fuck and hurt, and make perfectly clear who’s pleasure really mattered. She drove the dildo into San’s ass faster and harder each time. The sight of it pulling and pushing at San’s hole hit her like a battering ram, and her half-hearted facade of patience crumbled.
“You like it,” she repeated. “Say it!”
Sanneke’s answer rushed out between gasps for breath. “I like it.”
“You want me ramming your ass.”
“Y-yes, Ma’am. I want it.”
It was so tight. San’s body needed to be stretched, punished, and hurt, and Jessica was more than willing to provide.
“Fucking slut,” she hissed, wrapping her wife’s hair around her fist like a leash. She gripped the woman’s hip with her other hand and pistoned into her with rising fury. “This is what you get. Every hole you have is mine, you gutter trash whore. You hear me? Every. God. Damn. Hole.”
The words stoked the flames of lust-love-hate. Soon she was bent over Sanneke, holding on with all her strength, and pounded her wife from behind with single-minded purpose. Sanneke mewled and moaned with ecstatic pain. It barely registered in Jessica’s ears over the thunder of rushing blood.
“Shut up! You’re going to take it! Take every goddamn fucking inch right up your ass, you worthless, filthy cunt!”
Jessica’s climax was as sharp and violent as her lust. Her eyes went wide and she spasmed against Sanneke’s rear; her hips jerked in simulacrum of the ejaculation she so vividly imagined taking place. She shuddered and groaned, pulling hard on the brunette waves. Pulse after pulse of degradation-fueled orgasm ripped through muscle and nerves.
She deflated like a balloon once she was spent. Jessica’s stamina had never held a candle to her viciousness. She fought to catch her breath, and to keep herself upright. Only after the tsunami finally ebbed away did she realize that Sanneke was still impaled on the purple dildo, and had half-collapsed onto her elbows on the bed.
Jessica swallowed. Rising shame colored her cheeks, replacing the blush of depraved lust. She tentatively laid her palm on the small of Sanneke’s back. The older woman was breathing hard and quivering.
“You– You, uh, okay?”
It took a moment, but the back of Sanneke’s head bobbed affirmative. “Yes, Ma’am. I think so,” she whispered.
“I’ll…. I’ll pull out.”
“Gentle,” Sanneke interjected swiftly. “Gentle, please.”
Jessica bit her lower lip and placed both hands on Sanneke’s rear. As she eased the strap-on out of her wife’s ass, she could see smears of bright red on the silicone. It almost matched the angry hue of her abused flesh.
Sanneke stiffened as she felt the head of the toy tug at her ring, and then sucked in a breath as it popped free. Even then, she didn’t move. She laid her cheek against the bedsheets and listened to her heartbeat as it gradually slowed. Everything below her waist felt like it was fire and dipped in molten metal.
Jessica hesitated. Part of her wanted to apologize for being so rough, especially when Sanneke was obviously hurting from it. Guilt stung her, as it often did, at the words that replayed themselves in her head, and the fact that she didn’t feel as bad about them as she ‘should’. She chewed the inside of her cheek, and after a moment made a decision that straightened her spine and shoved the self-doubt aside. She was still Sanneke’s Dominant, and if there was one thing Jessica prided herself on as a Dominant, it was her attention to aftercare.
“Don’t move. I’ll get you some Tylenol and some water. And some cream.”
Jessica retreated off the bed, discarding the harness and the toy at its foot. Still naked, she padded out of the room, guilt trailing behind. She rifled through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen for the drink, and took the opportunity to pour and toss back a shot of Johnny Walker for herself. By the time she made it back to the bedroom, Sanneke had re-arranged herself into a more comfortable position: laying on her side, tucked back under the covers, a pillow under her head. She favored Jess with a smile when the younger woman returned.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Sanneke swallowed the caplets with a long drink, then handed it back over. She eyed her wife for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. “… I’m going to be sore for the rest of the week, and you had better pamper me.”
“You know I will,” Jessica answered, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. A ghost of a smirk curved the edge of her lips before fading away again. “Sorry if I got carried away; that was intense.”
Sanneke reached out a hand; Jessica slid her fingers betwixt her lover’s and squeezed. “Everything you do is intense,” the Belgian murmured in fond response.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Well. I mean. You know: I did.” She waved her free hand dismissively.
Sanneke laughed and pulled Jessica’s hand to her lips. “I know. But you owe me so many romantic candle-lit baths.”
Jess wrinkled her nose. “Romantic?”
“Do I have to?”
The question was answered by twin eyebrows arching up in challenge.
“Fine, fine. Romance. Got it.” Jessica stole her hand back, pulling San’s with it, and returned the kiss to her fingers. “The things I fucking do for you, San.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
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