The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica (2 page)

THE GODDESS WITHIN 2007 by Catherine Lundoff. Printed by permission of the author.

HANGING IN SUSPENSE © 2007 by Shaunda Randleman. Printed by permission of the author.

IF THE SHOE FITS © 2007 by Susan Wallace. Printed by permission of the author.

NEW BEGINNING © 2006 by Melissa Fawcett. Printed by permission of the author.

THE COLLEGE GRIND © 2007 by Courtney Bee. First appeared on
phaze.com
Printed by permission of the author

Introduction

Barbara Cardy

Not one for long-winded intros as I know you want to get on with reading the book . . . It has been a great privilege to put this collection of stories together. To sum it up,
this book is a sizzling collection of compulsively readable sexy short stories with a lesbian theme. A book that will appeal not only to the lesbian community, but also to straight women and men
– think “Girl on Girl” meets Bridget Jones!

The exceptionally high quality writers have their characters involved in all manner of sticky situations and the plots throughout are absolutely superb and original – aspects very often
neglected within the field of erotica.

Frequently humorous, sometimes deeply touching, but always highly erotic! So let me now pass the pleasure over to you.

(“Google” your favourite writers to find more of their stories in other books and on various websites too.)

A Taste for Pain

Sarah Veitch

Aha! Kay Reid sat up straighter in her chair as she heard the floorboards on the stairway creaking. Someone was obviously sneaking downstairs. Experience told her they’d
be making their surreptitious way towards the kitchen, a kitchen which was out of bounds to everyone except the chef. For days now he’d been complaining that food was going missing.
She’d been right to stay awake and on guard.

Leisurely, Kay stretched out her tennis-toned arms then tiptoed towards her bedroom door, the mirror showing her five-foot-eight frame in her favourite khaki shirt and matching army surplus
trousers. Heart starting to beat harder, she flexed her firm, right spanking palm. As owner of Trim Camp, she’d found that keeping discipline sometimes involved more than an inspirational
lecture. A sly slap to the back of some eighteen-year-old’s thighs was usually enough to take the overeater’s mind away from pasta. A shaming spank to a jean-clad rump usually shocked a
young woman into more sensible snacking, the option being going to college in the Fall still looking fat.

Kay was there to see that they got slim. That’s why they’d enrolled at Trim Camp, paid thousands of dollars to live on this campus near Los Angeles. Kay talked to them, watched over
them and weighed them, was the British slimming leader who’d gotten first class results here in the States.

And would continue to do so
. Kicking open the kitchen door and turning on the light in one co-ordinated move, she inhaled hard and got ready to shout at her failing teenage slimmer. Felt
her mouth slacken as she saw who the culprit was. “Lynette!” Lynette, a fellow Brit, was her recently-appointed Junior Diet Lecturer. She’d already ticked the girl off for
weighing more than she should have on Weigh-In Day.

Kay stared at her trainee, who stood clutching three thick slices of imported Scottish cheddar, meant to be doled out in small squares to successful slimmers. The large multi-grain loaf, pound
of butter and jar of pickles on the kitchen worktop told of her plans.

“Sorry – sudden snack attack,” she muttered, reddening.

“According to the chef, you’ve been having them every night.”

“I’ve . . .” The girl rubbed one bare foot behind an equally bare suntanned leg. Her thigh-length nightie rose at the awkward movement, showing the lower half of her chubby
buttocks. “Well, the dinners have been small recently.”

“And I’ve told you to make a second trip to the Salad Bar,” Kay reminded her. “What am I always telling the girls? Choose fibre over fat.”

“Sorry, Miss Reid. I am – really.” The girl turned to put the dairy products away.

“No – leave them out. I want you to look at them while you’re being punished.” She let the younger woman dwell for long seconds on the humiliating words. They
reverberated around her own head, giving her an unmistakable frisson. This would be the first time she’d disciplined a staff member aged twenty-two . . .

She stared at the blonde girl’s slightly rounded tummy and made her voice especially hard. “What happens if you get plump?”

The younger woman swallowed. “I . . . get sent home, Miss.”

“So perhaps you should think about packing?” That image should make her think twice.

“But I don’t want to go home!”

“Then what do you think we should do with you?”

“You could . . .” The girl played convulsively with her long hair, winding it around her right hand in nervous tendrils. “I won’t do it again.”

“But stealing and stealth still deserve chastisement.”

“I know.” The diet lecturer dipped her head.

“What you need is a good spanking,” Kay added. She held her breath, watched the hot shame redden the girl’s face and neck and stay there. Young women who were completely
uninterested in punishment or in femme2femme always told her to go to hell or threatened to take her to a tribunal at this stage. But Lynette merely stood there, blushing, waiting for further
instruction.
It was time to go for it.

Kay took hold of the wooden armless chair and pulled it out into the centre of the room. She sat down and patted her lap with obvious inference. “Now get that over-indulgent little bum
over my knee.”

Lynette blushed some more, moved from the ball of one bare foot to the other: “But what . . . what if another Camp member comes in?”

“The kitchen’s out of bounds, so they’d be transgressing. I suppose I’d have to spank you both, or even make you take turns spanking each other. I’d quite like to
watch – and direct – for a change.”

“You mean you’ve done this before?” Lynette’s eyes were wide and fixed and slightly glassy. She resembled a somewhat chunky Barbie doll, someone who wanted to be
conventionally pretty but was unwilling to exercise or eat healthily to get in shape.

“Mmm, frequently. More often than I’d have liked.”

That last sentence was a lie. Kay loved to feel a young, firm female bottom under her hands, adored making the flesh jerk and redden. Ached with desire as she found her rhythm and caused the
owner of the bum to emit little squeals and louder cries. Enjoyed everything from the first moment when she pulled down their panties and told them what she was going to do to their silky-soft
hemispheres, to the last seconds when she let them slide, whimpering, from her knee.

“I think I’ll use the wooden spoon on you for taking so long to acquiesce to your punishment,” Kay said, her vulva twitching at the thought of baring Lynette’s
nightdress-covered bottom, “That’s after your spanking for breaking our kitchen rules, of course.” She made eye contact with the younger girl. “If you don’t come over
here now I’ll have to fetch you, and that equals an even sorer bum.”

“If you’d lock the door?”

“No, bad girls have to take their chances.” She patted her lap again. “All this procrastination is earning you the hottest arse.”

Lynette glanced at the door. She stared at the food she’d removed from the fridge then reread the notice on the wall which warned slimmers that they’d lose privileges for dietary
transgressions. Slowly she approached her superior, her feet dragging on the warm floor.

“There!” Kay took hold of the girl’s nerveless wrists, “That wasn’t so difficult.” She started the controlling sideways pull that would win her this pouting
blonde victim, get her positioned and held defencelessly in place.

Hauling the junior lecturer down, she manoeuvred her across her knees, caught sight of them both in the chrome panel of the cooker. Kay looked strong and slightly sturdy, her short auburn hair
and large dark eyes giving her the appearance of control, of presence. The girl over her lap had a fair-haired, slender prettiness of a more traditional kind.

“Right, let’s get that arse warmed,” Kay said, looking down at the bum curves outlined by the thin, embroidered cotton. She slid a roving palm beneath the garment and stroked
the girl’s twitching rear. “How fortuitous – you aren’t wearing any knickers. Maybe you secretly wanted to be caught and thrashed?” She squeezed more strongly at the
still-hidden prize, watching the back of the blonde girl’s neck pinken with embarrassment.

“God, no.”

“You mean you wanted to eat forbidden food? To put on weight? To ruin my reputation? Oh dear, it’s going to take me a long time to re-educate this recalcitrant backside.”

She raised her hand and laid on a firm, centre-of-cheek spank over the nightdress.

“Ouch!” Lynette exhaled hard, and reached both hands back to cover her chastened orb.

“Bad girl. I didn’t give you permission to touch your bum,” Kay murmured, glad of the excuse to further discipline her subordinate. “You’ve left me no option but to
tie these wicked hands out of the way.”

Slowly she leaned back, enjoying the girl’s nervous – or was it eroticized? – squirming, and unbuckled the calfskin belt from her waist. “Right, let’s get these
protective fingers held in front.” She used the belt to bind the girl’s wrists together, adding lightly, “You have to learn to take your punishment without complaint.”

Lynette gave an experimental tug at her bonds. “But it stung. You did it so hard.”

“Of course it stung – that’s my intention. And it’s going to sting much, much more.” So saying, she edged the thin nightdress up the girl’s slender back and
tucked it under her armpits, then contemplated the bottom she’d just bared – a bottom that was full and taut and frenzied. The handprint she’d made on one golden cheek was already
fading. Kay flexed her fingers then slapped smartly down on the other orb.

“Ow!” Lynette was halfway through another squeal when Kay doled out five full-force spanks on alternate buttocks. Buttocks which writhed and pushed forward and arched backwards and
moved sideways and jerked. She knew that it was vital to exert her authority from the beginning, that Lynette would respect her more afterwards – and get more turned on if she had a secret
submissive side.

“Save your histrionics till you feel the wooden spoon on your backside,” Kay said, then stopped to fondle the glowing trophy. She noticed that Lynette breathed hard and fast during
her ministrations. It was a safe bet that the little minx was starting to get wet.

“Is your bottom hot now?” she asked conversationally.

A humiliated whimper: “Yes, Miss.”

“And I’ll bet you’re not hungry any more.”

“No, Miss Reid.” The girl sounded breathlessly eager to please.

“Which shows that spanking you is good therapy, don’t you think?” There was a pause. Kay stroked the hot, pink globes some more. “Answer me girl, or you’ll make my
right arm even angrier.”

“I suppose . . .” each syllable sounded dragged from her “. . . that you were right to spank me, Miss Reid.”

Kay ran her left thumb pad over the backs of the girl’s thighs. “Were right to spank you? That’s past tense, suggests that I’ve finished. Believe me, my dear, I’ve
hardly started yet.”

She watched the girl’s shoulder’s tense, heard and felt the shuddering indrawn breath: “But my bottom’s so sore, Miss.”

“I can see that it is.”

The Camp Leader caressed the well-warmed, fleshy sphere. “But I have to teach you discipline, and a few light slaps will hardly do that, sweetheart. I need to know you’ve learned
total obedience and self respect.”

The young lecturer swallowed. “I won’t steal food again. I’ll fill up on salad. I’ll be obedient, Miss.”

“A good walloping will make sure of that, will remind you of the penalty for breaking rank here at Camp Trim.”

Kay had been in the army long before she’d made it to the top on Civvy Street. She knew how to re-educate a young recruit, how to mould her into snivelling subservience. “I have to
administer a thrashing that will remain in your memory forever,” she explained.

“But what if someone comes in?” Lynette asked again.

“They’ll see me using the wooden spoon on your naughty bottom.”

“You mean you’re about to . . . ?”

“Only once I’ve finished spanking you,” Kay explained. She ran a thoughtful hand over the blonde girl’s squirming cheeks. “Now stop complaining and thank me for the
warm-up spanks.”

“Thank you for the warm-up spanks, Miss Reid,” the younger woman mumbled.

“You’re very welcome. And tell me you’re looking forward to the main part of your spanking which will be starting any moment now.”

Silence. She fondled the pinkened contours, enjoying the girl’s aroused pants and sighs.

“Tell me,” Kay repeated.

“I’m . . . oh please, Miss, I’m sorry I stole food from the Camp.”

“Say it or I may have to fetch my hard-soled slippers – and I have such big feet.”

The naughty grown-up girl quivered. “I’m looking forward to my main spanking, Miss.”

“It’ll make you wriggle like a landed eel,” Kay said.

She slid her right hand between the girl’s labial lips and her fingers came away coated with gelatinous pleasure. Lynette moaned with what Kay presumed was uncertainty and lust. It was
amazing how often a spanking turned a girl on, each slap to the lower arse cheeks reverberating to her sweet spot. She’d pleasured many such miscreants who hadn’t previously seen
themselves as wanting girl-love. “Your cunt’s getting ever so hot,” she said crudely. Let her pussy beg a little. “But the only part I’m interested in roasting is your
arse.”

She smiled to herself as Lynette hung her head nearer the floor, clearly overwhelmed at the ignominy. The girl had given up tugging at her wrist bonds for now and seemed resigned to the
remaining bare bottom spanks. Kay laid them on hard, but not as hard as she was capable of. She was pacing herself, pacing the naked flesh beneath her determined right palm. She wanted to leave
some of the girl’s spirit and energy intact for when she tasted the more focused discipline of the wooden spoon.