The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica (51 page)

She’d used a false name. To Diana, she was Sara. Not a good way to start but it had to be that way. For now.

Diana sized her up at once. “Don’t be scared; I won’t eat you, unless you want me to.” Diana was in her early forties, with a strong face, high cheekbones, luxuriant hair
and the assurance of a royal. “Come on.” She took Sophie’s hand in her own fragile one, and led her to a cubicle, “Slip into something more comfortable. I’ll be with
you in a moment.”

The “something more comfortable” was a white satin nightshirt, with buttonholes piped in pink. By the time Sophie had shed her clothes for the satin gear, her heart was thumping
loudly. She couldn’t go through with this, not in a fit. She was—

At that moment Diana knocked on the cubicle door, blocking her escape route.

“Sara, are you ready?”

Ready? She’d never be ready. “I . . . I’m . . .” Words died in her throat.

Diana opened the door, took Sophie’s arm. “I sense that you need a little encouragement. Come.”

The guillotine awaits, thought Sophie, allowing Diana to lead her to a room large enough to hold a king-sized bed. Instead there was nothing in it but a single bed, a chair, table, wash-basin,
plus lots of towels. The ceiling was completely mirrored.

“I don’t like that.” Sophie pointed upwards.

“Then you won’t have it.” Diana pressed a button on the wall and a false ceiling slid into place, covering the mirror.

“Thank you.”

Diana pulled back the cover: “Now, just take the weight off your feet.”

Sophie stared at her, mind so numb it couldn’t take in the simplest instruction.

“Sit on the bed, then lie down.”

That was better. Simple instructions, one by one. She could do that.

“You will soon be relaxed, I promise. Easy breaths now, while I wash my hands.”

It’s not too late. Sophie’s mind was now racing. She could still go; Diana couldn’t make her stay. She should never have come. What did she hope to achieve?

“The woman is a miracle-maker. Her hands are magic; she’ll untie every single knot you have, or ever thought you had.” That was friend Brenda, once frigid, now well on the way
to being nympho.

“I’m not frigid.”

“Of course you’re not, but you do have trouble letting go -your words, not mine.”

Sophie was well aware she had trouble. She couldn’t hand over her power; didn’t want to. Then what was she doing here?

Diana now stood beside her, smiling, reading her mind, no doubt, thought Sophie.

She was. “Still planning to escape?”

Sophie shrugged helplessly knowing it was already too late.

“You’ll be glad you stayed.” Diana sat on the side of the bed. “You’re very beautiful, my dear. Why are you here?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question.”

“And the answer?”

“I want to make love to women—”

“Of course.”

“I’m very good as a giver, but I can’t receive; can’t surrender my power.”

“You will receive from me. Love is a two-way street, honey.”

“What can I learn from you?”

“You will learn how to let yourself to be taken over. To cry, to whimper, to beg for release, to be teased beyond your imagination.”

“I can’t do that.” Sophie sat up, suddenly breathless. “I won’t do that.”

“You will, honey. Now, lie down, close your eyes and prepare for heaven.”

Sophie did as she was told, but her body stayed tense as Diana caressed her first with her voice . . .

“. . . forget for the moment where you are, think of something that makes you happy. Think of a place, a memory, a dream; something so good you want to live and relive it
forever.”

Her voice went on and on sending Sophie back in time to the sea and the first time she rode a wave to the shore.

“Very good. Your body is responding to your mind, as it is to my touch.” Her oiled hands moved lightly over Sophie’s body as she lay on her back. “There’s nothing
to be afraid of here. As they said in
Cabaret,
’In here, life is beautiful.’
N’est-ce pas?”
Then, “Would you like music?”

Sophie shook her head. Diana’s voice was all the music she needed.

“And now, it’s time I think to remove your nightshirt. There, that’s better. Now, if you will roll over on your side, I’ll massage your back.” As she drew soothing,
sweeping strokes down and across Sophie’s back, she said: “And now, for your butt. Stay relaxed while I massage and pummel it and draw it up and away from your cunt.

“Do you like that? Yes, it’s good. Do you like your cunt? Germaine Greer says a woman should love her cunt. Two grunts if you don’t, one if you do.”

The single grunt from Sophie drew a deep, rich laugh from Diana. “I thought so, and why not?” In one movement she flipped Sophie on to her back and spread her legs. “What a
beautiful cunt, and such a wet one.”

“I’d like a mask for my eyes, face.”

“Very well, just for your eyes, but believe me, soon you will rip it off, then ask for the shield to be removed from the mirror. Ah yes . . .

“. . . our bodies are instruments to be played upon. Accept this, relish it. It is why you were made this way – for physical, mental and emotional satisfaction. Women have pleasure
at their fingertips, and they don’t know how to use it.

“I shall teach you, and you’ll never want to get out of bed.” Her rich laugh filled the room. “Of course, that’s not true, but even when you’re not pleasuring
yourself or someone else, your body will be alive with the memory. You will walk, talk, look, smell like the sexy woman you are.

“Now, don’t be alarmed, I am just touching your pussy ever so lightly. Do you know why women are afraid of growing old? Because they’re scared of losing their femininity; their
appeal. They’re afraid it is the end of pleasure, of joy. If they only knew it is theirs for life. Partners may die, or turn to someone younger. No matter. Women are self-sufficient and they
literally have the whole world in their hands – your beautiful cunt, my dear, is now voluptuous, so soft and receptive – they don’t have to have a partner. Of course it’s
better if they do, but it’s not the end of the world if they don’t.

“We women are so lucky. Our entire bodies are there for our sensual delight. And we have a whole arsenal of caresses, fantasies, dildos, butt plugs at our disposal.

“Are you cold? No? Because if you are you will soon be warm, very warm. Now I am just lightly holding your breasts with one hand, while the other gently touches the lips of your vagina
that is now so very enlarged.

“Soon – and I’m telling you this for two reasons – one, to prepare you and two, for you to prepare yourself. Anticipation, my dear, magnifies the moment of realization.
Soon I will put my fist into your cunt and gently move it around. I note the anticipation pleases you.

“Where was I? Oh, yes. Women are a world unto themselves, and when they realize how autonomous they are, what a law they are unto themselves, they will walk, laugh, sing and dance with
such
joie de vivre
they will never again fear age.

“Do you like that? My kneading your cunt? Just grunt, my dear. I’ll understand. Of course you love it; it’s what you are made for.

“Sometimes, when I’m feeling – oh, outrageous, I think I must invite men to see how a woman should be made love to. I tell them about the all-important G-spot, but I’m
afraid it would go over their heads, just make them as randy as all hell and, thinking with their cocks, they’d learn nothing.” Again her laughed filled the room.

“I am now paying a little attention to your clit. Just lightly – it is such a sensitive little thing, it prefers to hide behind its shield. Treat it roughly and it will reject all
advances, and retreat.

“And now, what I have here is a dildo. I’m sure you are familiar with them. Like cocks, they come in all sizes. This is a medium size – not too fat, not too long, just right. I
have lubricated it just a little but you are so wet, my love, it is not really necessary. Gently in and move it all about. Aah, you like that. Perhaps later you might like a longer one to reach
your innermost recesses. Mmm?

“Groan and moan all you like, my dear. This room is soundproof. Ah, the stories it could tell. Now, go easy, you mustn’t come yet. We’ve a long way to go before I let you come.
Oh, yes, it is I who am in control. You realize that now, don’t you? I have taken control of your body. Do you like it? No, no. It’s not time yet. We’re not nearly done.

“You’ve not yet endured the exquisite agony of the butt plug. If you haven’t had that, you are in for a taste of heaven. When it hits you, you can swear and scream all you
want, honey, because that’s what you’ll feel like doing and your cunt will run like a river. But, even then, you can’t go. Even then the game’s not over. Now, a longer
dildo? Yes?

“Uh huh. That’s better, isn’t it? It goes where no man has gone before.” Again she laughed. “It’s okay – moan and groan as much and as loudly as you
want. It’s your party. What’s that? You want the butt plug. Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes. I’m sure.”

“Quite sure?”

“I’m fucking well quite fucking sure.”

“Very well. Roll on to your side while I oil the plug a little. There. Relax into it and enjoy. Well, I can see that you do. Now, I’ll alternate. First in/out with the plug, then
in/out with the dildo. I see that puts you in a spin. You can’t stand it? I thought you were enjoying it. Just a joke, honey. You want to come?”

“Yes, yes, yeeeeeeeeees. Come, come, fucking well come.”

“Not yet. Now for a little teasing. Just stay very still while your passion recedes a little. You are hyperventilating, and we can’t have that. Just let your breath drop back to as
close to normal as you can make it. That’s better.”

“Please. Please let me come. Make an end, Diana.”

“You’re sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes, yes,
yes.”
Sophie ripped the mask from her eyes.

“Very well. Now, instead of moving the plugs one after the other, I’ll manipulate them both together. Ready? In, out; in, out. Two in, two out, two in, two out.”

Sophie groaned in agony. “I can’t take any more. Release me. Let me go.”

“Do you want the mirror?”

“Yes, yes,
yes.”

“Good.” Diana pressed the button and the shield rolled back. “Now you can watch yourself come. Ready?”

All Sophie could do was whimper, and then came the “Oh, my God, ooooh, my Go . . . o . . . od. I’ve never ever . . . never ever . . . never
ever . . .
felt . . . like . . .
this . . .”

“Don’t be scared. Your body is bucking like that because it’s such a powerful orgasm, my love.”

“Ss . . . sh . . . shattering.”

When it was done Sophie let out a string of curses, before finally settling into a series of happy sighs.

At that point Diana pulled the cover over Sophie’s depleted body. “A sleep is what you need,
mon amie.
I’ll be back in 30 minutes.”

When Diana returned Sophie was stretching like a cat.

“How do you feel now?”

“Wonderful, just wonderful. It’s like I’ve been given a whole new body – mind.”

“Shower and dress while I prepare coffee. The kitchen is to the left of the cubicle.”

Sophie sipped her coffee in silence. She felt unreal, as if she was floating high above the world. “How can I thank you, Diana?” She shook her head. “Words –
they’re never there when you need them.”

“You’re free now to give and to receive.”

“Back there I felt as if you were my lover.”

“And for that time, I was.”

Sophie sighed.

“I’m thinking of giving advanced sessions.”

“There’s more to learn?”

“Lots more, especially between two people.”

“You mean . . . ?”

“Oh, yes. Definitely,” she grinned, “a hands-on job. However, I’m only offering one place.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t look so unhappy. I’m offering it to you. Would you like to become my lover?”

Sophie’s spirits went from zero to the skies, and the quantum leap took with it the power to speak.

“One grunt for ’yes’, and two for—”

At Sophie’s single, definite grunt Diana’s laugh exploded, filling the room, bringing tears. “With two people involved, the joy, the discoveries are endless.” She stroked
Sophie’s hand. “Do you know what I’d like to do to you first, my love? I’d kiss your beautiful butt, and then . . .”

“Yes? And
then
?”

“You will see.”

“Diana, you’re teasing me – again.”

“Occupational hazard. Now, when are you available?”

Suddenly, Sophie remembered the photo and all excitement went from her.

“What’s wrong, Sophie – it is Sophie, isn’t it?”

Sophie gasped. “How did you know?”

“You’re so much like her.”

“Who?” Sophie knew it for a silly question.

“Your mother.”

“You knew all along?”

“No, not until a few minutes ago.”

“Is that why you want me – because I’m like her?”

“No. I loved you long before that. I loved you the minute you came in the room looking so scared, so uncertain.”

Sophie took the photo from her wallet – the photo of a much younger Diana in the arms of Sophie’s mother. She gave it to Diana. “I found it among her things after she died. You
can have it now; I don’t need it any more.”

“No, Sophie, you don’t.” Diana dropped the photo and held out her arms as Sophie snuggled safely into harbour.

Inside

Cheryl Moch

I like being inside. My least favourite phrase is “let’s go”. I don’t like air blowing on my face. The wind alarms me. I like knowing that the air I am
breathing is air I’ve already breathed.

As a child I studied peanuts, peapods, certain fruits, fascinated by how they were tucked so neatly inside their skin. I focused on the border between container and the contained, the inviting
edge where things both come together and come apart. I admired clams and pitied butterflies as they left their cocoons to fly off to uncharted skies.

I liked to think of my body as an enclosure, my brain resting in the tidy capsule of my skull, my body the repository of so many busy organs.