Four by Flash #4 – Her

I decided I should start titling these things, so here, I present to you an erotic lesbian scene, steamy but not explicit, called Her. I wrote this to fill a square on my Kink Bingo writing challenge card, and the square fill was “begging.”


“Please?” Her eyes shined brightly as she looked up at me.

I knew what she wanted, but I was going to make her work for it. “Please… what?”

A huff. She hated this part, always self-conscious, a little shy, even though we both knew that once clothes came off, she wouldn’t be able to stop the filthy things from pouring out of her mouth if she tried. “I just… please?” she asked again, trailing her fingertips along the hem of my shirt, teasing at the top of my jeans.

I shook my head. “Not good enough. I don’t know what you’re asking for.” Lies. I looked away for effect, to remind her that I was in control, let myself get distracted by the flash of skin on the TV screen as a prime time actor pulled his shirt off. I let a little noise escape my throat in appreciation of the man to demonstrate that she wasn’t doing enough to keep me entertained.

I could sense her impatience, her frustration with herself, with me, with the game I was playing. It didn’t matter – this was my game, after all. Every step, every move, every word was calculated to have an impact, to elicit the reaction I wanted out of her.

“Look at you,” I breathed, pushing a lock behind her ear. “So beautiful. So eager. If only you knew how to ask properly, like a good girl.” This would win, I knew. The trickle between her legs would speed up, and she’d be helpless against it.

She whimpered, looked into my eyes and flicked them down. “Please may I take your shirt off?” I nodded, and she started to tug, but my undershirt got caught in the pull and started to come up. I pushed her hand away.

“Ah-ah. You know better.”

She dropped her hands and looked down again, and I marveled at her obedience. “Sorry,” she mumbled, chastened, and went back to work on the black tee, freeing it from my body. Then a beat. “This one too, please?”

I was tempted to deny her, because she was so achingly beautiful when I told her no, because her frustration made her work doubly hard to please me on the next request, but I couldn’t help myself. Despite the vice-like grip I seemed to have on my self control, between the legs I was wet and slick and aching for her already, my nipples hard and waiting for her clever mouth. “Yes,” murmured.

I was kneeling on the bed, with her seated between my legs, and I felt powerful, strong, with this lovely, obedient woman beneath me. With me topless, she teased at the line of my jeans, and I could hear her breath hitch.

“How about these?”

“Hmm. You haven’t worked hard enough for those.” I dipped down to kiss her, slid a hand between her legs as I did, pressed my fingers into the heat there. It was all I could do to bite back a moan, but she didn’t bother with quiet. Her fingers pushed my jeans down as far as she dared, and she discovered nothing beneath them other than the swell of my ass. I could feel her getting wetter as I rubbed her there, and my body matched her reaction.

“This, then?” She pressed against the black satin fabric of my bra. No matter what it looked like, I knew I was completely powerless then, and I let her have me.

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