Oh it has been a long while since I shamelessly pimped kinky fuckery to read. What better way to end a dry spell then with lesbian kink? Unspeakably Erotic, edited by D.L. King and published by Cleis Press, had me at the title and cover. Yes, I know, we shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover…but just look at it!
About Unspeakably Erotic
Everyone has secrets, especially secret, kinky desires. Unspeakably Erotic: Lesbian Kink is guaranteed to trigger that hot flush that comes with the discovery of a new, sexy, sometimes unmentionable desire and that insatiable hunger that is left wanting more.
D.L. King, prolific writer and editor of fourteen anthologies, including the Lambda Literary Award-winning The Harder She Comes, presents twenty new unspeakable stories designed to make you cringe a bit before you come. This eclectic mix of kinky tales features established authors like Sacchi Green, Annabeth Leong, and Kiki DeLovely and new-“comers” like Pascal Scott and Sonni de Soto, among others. With stories exploring edge play, CBT (yes, even CBT), genital bondage, whips, foot fetishes, carnies, pony play and much more, these masterful storytellers will fuel your sexual dark side with new fantasies or your passion for well-loved kinks!
Excerpt from Unspeakably Erotic
From “Bedtime Story” by Robyn Nyx
“Face the truck and put your hands on the mountain tops.” She makes it sound poetic.
You grasp the metal bars and wait, shaking just a little with anticipation. She’s behind you, and you feel her strength again. Ropes slide over your wrists and slipknots are pulled tight. You’re bound to the truck faster than a cop could’ve cuffed you to it. She never answered, but now you’re guessing she ranches cattle by the way she just tied you down.
She unzips your jacket, and her hands are all over you. Squeezing hard, grasping like she’s trying to tear pieces from you. She shoves her hand down your jeans and sighs deeply into your neck when she feels how wet you are. She pulls out, and her hands are nowhere for a moment. You’re already missing them.
A Bowie knife flashes in front of your face. It’s huge. The barn lights catch in the blade.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” she whispers as she slices through your leather jacket from collar to hem, from cuff to collar.
You loved that jacket, and it falls away in three pieces to the dusty floor. You kinda don’t give a shit right now. Your T-shirt follows. As does your bra. She moves your long hair over your shoulders, baring your back. Her hands dig into you all over, like she’s got more than two.
“You know what I love about Texas?”
You’re breathless, drunk almost. “What?”
“How we’ve really hung on to our ranching history.”
You’re not sure what she means, but you don’t really care. Her voice is so sexy. Everything she’s doing is the stuff you’ve only dreamt about. Things you’ve trained yourself for, waited for your entire life. Could you be this fucking lucky?
“I’m not like most Americans. Obsessed with technological advancement and this so-called digital age. I like to continue traditions, artistic traditions. I have an antique quirt, one used on a ranch just like this centuries ago. Its core is full of lead. I’ve re-braided it and added a few more heavier falls made of buffalo hide, so you can really appreciate its weight.”
Is it possible you might pass out? All the blood from your head is driving straight to your cunt.
“Would you like to see it?”
“I’d like to feel it.”
She’s gone from you, and the moment you know she’s back is when the strike of her quirt throws you against the truck. You gasp. She’s not warming you up. She’s heading straight for the core of you. She’s hungry. You want to feed her with your pain. She strikes you again. Your naked breasts hit the truck. Pain, front and back. This time you steady yourself and hold onto the truck for the next strike. You can enjoy this one. She’s giving you time to savor it.
She brings the quirt down on your back and ass, time and again. You lose count. She’s not talking to you. You can’t talk to her. You can only feel. And it feels so fucking good. You’ve wanted something like this for years. And here it is, across your path with the luck of the Irish.
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About D.L. King
D.L. King has edited over a dozen erotica anthologies and her short stories appear in more than five dozen more. A Lambda Literary Award winner (The Harder She Comes), two-time IPPY gold medalist (Carnal Machines, The Harder She Comes) and one-time silver medalist (Under Her Thumb), she most recently edited the best-selling Slave Girls: Erotic Stories of Submission. She is the author of two novels, The Melinoe Project and The Art of Melinoe. Her work can be found in anthologies such as The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Girl Crazy, Luscious, No Safewords, Yes, Ma’am, and Yes, Sir. She lives in New York City.
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