We're back for a second taste of the anthology Silence is Golden, because it's NOW OUT IN PAPERBACK TOO, yay! And my guest excerpt is from Annabeth Leong's A Change of Perspective.
I had stepped into someone else’s life. Everything I had on was new or rented—the tuxedo, the shining black leather shoes, the binder that concealed my breasts, the cock stuffed into the front of my pants.
The woman on the other end of the leash I was holding didn’t belong to me either. Kristina, my best friend, had begged me to put on this show for just one night, for just this party, and I had agreed.
I had stripped her naked, buckled her into a leather collar so thick she couldn’t bend her neck, locked it with the padlock she had given me, and led her into the main party room by a leash handle that could double as a spanking implement. The temptation was to clutch it because I wasn’t sure I knew what I was doing, but I forced myself to hold it loosely instead. Max, the character I was playing tonight, wasn’t the type to over-grip. He was the definition of cool and smooth, because I’d made him up to be that way, and I focused on walking and moving like I’d imagined he would.
Because of nerves, we’d arrived a little late. Kristina hadn’t been to any kinky events since she’d broken up with her ex, and we’d had a long talk about that before getting dressed. I went out like this most weekends, but not usually as a top, and never presenting as a man. I’d spent forever in the bathroom adjusting the package I’d purchased for the occasion, half-worried I hadn’t put it on right and half-overwhelmed by how turned on I got seeing its bulge.
The party was already in full swing. The seemingly required soundtrack of Massive Attack and Hybrid pumped steadily through high-quality speakers, ordinary household objects were hidden under black cloths, and kink furniture had been brought out and set up throughout the space. The carpet must have been steam cleaned earlier that day—a slightly damp, soapy smell wafted through the air-conditioned room.
I’d been going to private kinky parties for years, but the first moment inside I always felt like I was in the wrong place. I never could sort out the details of the press of bodies, and the sounds of gasps, moans, grunts, and screams hit me with a sense of danger that took a few minutes to transform into a vicarious thrill. Usually, that was when I would lean toward the person I came with, wrap myself in their toppy energy, and let our power dynamic settle my nerves.
Tonight, I was the top. The chain that linked me to Kristina stirred. She shifted from foot to foot like a nervous animal, and I knew what she needed because it was what I would have needed in her position.
I picked up the slack in the chain until it stretched taut. Choking up to keep her on a short leash, I steered us toward a spot deeper in the party as if I knew exactly where we were going. I didn’t, but she didn’t have to know that.
I could feel her calming with every step. She followed me like a dancer, up on her tiptoes because I had a few inches on her, her bare feet landing precisely, the movements making the muscles in her thick calves and thighs flex and ripple. I thought it was a beautiful effect, so I shifted my grip to urge her higher onto her toes.
Her posture changed even more. Her straight neck translated to a straight back. We’d decided not to use any restraints besides the collar and lead, but she moved her hands into position behind her as if I’d cuffed them there, and the gesture emphasized the curves of her breasts, stomach, and hips.
Her thick, curly hair cascaded down her back, tendrils brushing the tops of her thumbs. She kept her eyes lowered, which made the beauty of her long lashes more noticeable and made me feel safe watching her face.
I wasn’t used to looking at my best friend this way. Of course, I knew she was pretty, but I didn’t usually admire the sensual fullness of her cheeks. I’d never before stared at the spot below her ear and thought about putting my tongue there. I’d certainly never mentally compared the coppery brown of her lips and her nipples, had never wondered if the latter were hardening because of me.
I’ll admit, I’d forgotten the role I was supposed to be playing. A bottom might get to go la-la in subspace, but a top can’t give in to the temptation to neglect the rest of the world.
I was so focused on Kristina that I walked into a tall someone’s chest. In my surprise, I jerked the leash to an odd angle, making her stumble.
I opened my mouth to apologize to both of them, then remembered who I was tonight and closed it. I didn’t know how well I passed to other people, but I passed great to myself as long as I didn’t say anything. I felt like Max, felt like a handsome, sexy, well-put-together, dominant man—right up until the soprano tones of my voice hit my eardrums. I’d experimented with lowering it, but that just made me feel ridiculous. Instead, Kristina and I had agreed that Max would be the strong, silent type. We’d even worked out signals I could use to check in with her, so I wouldn’t have to break the spell while we were in front of other people at the party.
We hadn’t anticipated a situation where I’d need to communicate with anyone but her.
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Annabeth Leong is frequently confused about her sexuality but enjoys searching for answers.
Her work appears in dozens of anthologies, including the 20th anniversary edition of Best Lesbian Erotica and Heiresses of Russ 2015: the Year's Best Lesbian Speculative Fiction. She is the author of Untouched: A Sensory Voyage of Voyeurism and Discovery, and the editor of MakerSex: Erotic Stories of Geeks, Hackers, and DIY Projects.
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