Big Boy had a good reason for caging my arousal. Things were getting out of control. I work from home, but I wasn’t getting anything done. I couldn’t keep my hands out of my pants! That’s why my strong, sexy Dom caged me. Now I’m completely under Big Boy’s control. My body is his. I’m locked up and he holds the only key.
Gay BDSM Erotica
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
“So, how is this going to work? Will this be a threesome?”
“Gosh, no, Melanie. Gordon detests Michael. The cuckolded husband and all that. Gordon will be out of town most of that weekend. We worked it out. He’ll meet you at a bar Sunday afternoon. He’ll buy you a drink. I can comfortably predict he’ll seduce you. If it makes you more comfortable, you can take him to my place. Michael will be there. That should up the comfort level for you.”
“What about you?”
Junie’s faced turned quizzical. “Me?”
“Don’t you want to be there? To watch your black lover, you know, stretch me?”
“Heavens no, dear. Why would I want to do that? Anyway, I’ll be away that weekend.”
Lunch arrived, and the women’s conversation turned to politics. Earlier that day, the Supreme Court had ruled that gay marriage is legal in every state.
“It makes me so happy to see lesbians walking down the street hand-in-hand, smooching in bars, dancing in clubs,” Junie said as the table was cleared.
“I know two couples who are getting ready to tie the knot.”
“It’s made me think about our weekend.”
“If you get Michael for a weekend, it’s only fair that I get you for a weekend, right?”
“Sure. What are your plans?”
“Gay marriage is in the air. Can’t you smell it?” Junie grinned.
“What in the world are you leading up to?”
“You’re going to be my wife, Melanie. For two whole glorious days. We’re going to go on our honeymoon. We’re going to parade around town, arm in arm, holding each other tight, smooching and cooing.”
Melanie stiffened. “I am not a lesbian.”
“No! Neither am I! We’ll pretend! It’ll be fun.”
“Junie, I can’t strut around Boston…”
“I didn’t say here.”
“In D.C. I’ll be at a conference at the Library of Congress that ends Friday at five. I’ll pick you up at Union Station at six forty-five. I’ve got reservations at a great little boutique hotel just off Dupont Circle.”
“Think of it. Two hot chicks dressed to kill, hanging off each other. D.C. is so straight-laced and self-important. We’ll stand out, but in a nice way. We’ll make a splash wherever we go. People will nudge each other and say, Look at those hot lesbians! On Saturday, I’ve got tickets for the ballet at the Kennedy Center. I’ll buy you a drink at intermission. Well, actually, the whole weekend is on me.”
“Then back to our room for the main event?”
Junie smiled. “One of the main events. You don’t know this about me, but I need sex every day. If I don’t have a man, I have to … you know. My sex drive just doesn’t let up. If I go more than twelve hours without an orgasm, I get snappish and moody.” Her eyes lit up. “I want to find out if sleeping a woman will be as satisfying as sleeping with a man. I think so, but I want to know for sure. Think about it, Melanie. After a weekend of sleeping with Michael, topped off by an afternoon with my bull, wouldn’t you like to find out if sleeping with me is enough? Melanie?”Melanie had closed her eyes. Tendrils of arousal blossomed in the pit of her belly.
Wade Johnson is the golden boy jock at our school, the star quarterback-- and a total jerk. He started calling me a “queer” back in ninth grade, and he and his football goons have been hassling me every day since.
But now I’ve got something to keep Wade in line-- a video that could destroy his social life and end his football playing days for good.
You’d think Wade would keep that in mind, and try to stay on my good side. Play nice. Keep the other jocks from messing with me. But Wade’s not that smart.
At school, he’s still the same homophobic bully he’s always been. So after school, he has to make it up to me.
It’s almost like that guy wants to be punished.
“She’s climbing,” Professor Slutz said, her eyes glued to the monitor. “Approaching seven hundred Kinseys.”
“Let me know the moment she stabilizes,” Professor Balzac said as he humped inside Remy. One hand gripped Remy’s hip, while the thumb of his other hand gently massaged her.
“Six-eighty-five, six-ninety, six-ninety, six-ninety….”
“Dammit, woman, I said tell me …”
“She’s steady at six-ninety-five. What next?”
“We don’t have a case unless she climbs to seven fifty,” Professor Balzac muttered. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he quickened his pace. “Let’s go into full deposition mode.”
After a nod from Professor Slutz, the interns jabbed buttons and threw switches. The lights came up, and the large conference table lowered into the floor. The ceiling panels drew back, revealing a sea of faces in a circular balcony surrounding the room.
The conference room had transformed into a large, high-tech surgical theater filled with students peering down at Remy, strapped into her chair, and Professor Balzac humping maniacally. Below, nearly a dozen interns, lawyers and technicians milled about the operating theater.