More Free Erotica!

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I don’t have enough free smut on my site. Well, I’m going to fix that starting now.

I’m taking an old story that is out of print and posting it in three parts now and on the following two Thursdays.

It’s time for part one of “The Tiger.”

“In the hearts of many, whether master, dominant, or sadist, there dwells a wish. It is almost never discussed, but its absence is a presence, like a shadow.”

Gena was a tall woman of spectacularly mixed heritage. Her eyes were almost green, and her hair had that color of red that only comes from African ancestors. I had thought her beautiful back in college, but we were roommates then, with our sexual identities changing almost daily. G knew her greatest joy in discovering exactly what someone wanted, whether lover or friend. If you stayed with Gena long enough, you might find your dreams coming true.

She continued. “The wish is this: to take one who is truly unwilling. To do so would be a grievous betrayal of our Art.” She said the last word so that I could hear the capital letter. “Or so it is declared by the newly politically correct Scene. But still, some people will dream about a helpless slave, trembling like a candle flame between their cupped hands, who will cry like a child when hurt, and who has no safeword.

Why, to admit these secret dreams is to endure censure, withdrawn invitations, a permanent label of mental illness. Just think–no one will ask you to appear on a talk shows!”

Gena had a dream of her own when we were in school. She told it to me one night after we had given a visiting prospective student the time of his life, and he had fallen asleep, exhausted. “If my hormones aren’t supposed to peak until I’m thirty-five,” she had said, “I’ll need to keep a matched pair of twenty-year-old men on retainer when I grow up.” She said she would pick them out of the brightest and most attractive college students, and train them exactly to her taste. “Look me up then and I’ll share them with you.”

Her two pets were sitting on the floor between us now. One was blond and the other black-haired, both with wide eyes almost the same shade of blue. The fair one had a pierced ear. They both were wearing jeans, just snug enough to set off the hard ripples and interlocking muscles of their legs. The dark one wore a white T-shirt, and the blond one wore black. Their hair was very long, and as I watched them the dark one was brushing the blond. Gena always did prefer men, and these two were like great predator cats grooming each other, seemingly oblivious to my stares.

“Do you like them?” Gena asked.

“Oh yes.”

Her pets glanced at me under their lashes. The dark one handed the brush to the blond, and they switched positions.

Under my skirt things my cunt was starting to twitch.

“I know what you mean, about wanting to go beyond top,” I said. “The converse of your idea, though, is the submissive who wants to be taken. There are always some who beg to be true submissives, owned, bereft of choices, hurt for the pleasure of another. In my experience, though, anyone who says the want this is naïve. It’s all for them. Disappointing.”

I paused, distracted by the scene before me.

“There is a crucial paradox,” Gena prompted, her smile growing wider. “A master can’t just walk up to someone and ask them if they want to be enslaved. If you do ask, could he answer? If he does, aren’t there always conditions, limits, strings attached? You must gaze in those wide, beautiful eyes and say, ‘No, you are not the one.’” She went silent and watched her pets with a look like hunger.

“If you don’t ask,” I mused, “would you be able to live with yourself and the thought that you might have raped someone?”

The blond set down the brush. Both of them looked up to Gena.

“Amuse each other,” Gena said.

They turned upon the carpeted floor and with measured eagerness began to touch. Light hair and dark tumbled together. I watched their hands meet and clasp, then slide into an embrace. They kissed with open lips, without haste.

My own mouth watered.

Gena said, “One of them is truly that submissive.”

I swallowed.

The two men shivered ever so slightly and then resumed their lovemaking with, if anything, even greater fervor.

“Which one?” I asked.

Gena smiled. “Which of them would you like?”

“I’d have to think about that.”

They were both lovely, so the choice of the dark or the fair one, was no choice at all. Gena had offered me the chance to hurt someone. Once awakened, that appetite had a soul of its own. I could no more deny it than one bound and tied could evade a blow.

“Shall I choose for you?” Gena asked.

“Yes.”

The two men broke their kiss and turned towards her again, still kneeling, holding hands, pack animals who feared separation more than anything else. I wondered which one wanted this more, and if she would, indeed, give that one to me.

Gena said, “Daniel.”

The dark one stood hastily and faced her with head bowed. She pointed to me. Daniel turned on one bare foot and went to kneel beside my feet. He leaned his head against my leg and let his hair cascade down so that I could not see his face.

“You may do exactly as you will with him, as long as it is safe. I trust that you know what is safe.”

I nodded.

“Know that Daniel’s safeword is my name. He is permitted to use it. Therefore we request that you not gag him.”

I reached down and stroked Daniel’s back. He arched against my hand, sighing. My fingers touched the skin of his neck. A wave of heat and then of chill traveled up my arm. I brought my fingers to my lips and tasted the bitterness of masculine sweat.

“No, I won’t gag him. I want to hear him sing.”

Gena pointed once more, to a door off the living room. “That room is made up for you. I’m sure you’ll find everything you need there. You are a guest, but Daniel may not leave that room until tomorrow morning.”