Lesbian Labor Day Submission: Part 3
by Susie T (susietreasure@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer:
(This story is not for minors or anyone offended by descriptions of sexual exploration between adventurous women. Feedback always welcome!)
When I woke next it was already past noon judging by the fullness of the light streaming in through the windows and onto my bed. I was nude except for my makeshift collar -- no boots, no bindings either, for they had apparently been removed and I was now free to walk about.
I hastily made my way to the bathroom and after I had finished relieving myself I went to try the door. It was locked. I knocked lightly a few times and cleared my throat and even called for Gwen and Heather, but no answer. So I returned to bed and stretched and began to relive the previous crazy night. A sickly feeling of dread, maybe even horror, began to steal over me. I wished I could have wished it all away. I could barely bring myself to look in a mirror. And yet my body was exulting, singing even.
The bedroom was not very large, but it was comfortable, obviously a guest-room. I picked up a book on gardening -- how could I act so normal? -- and then threw it down, too confused and overcome by memories of the hours before. But what worried me was that a quiet burning in the pit of my stomach had begun again, and that my fantasies were becoming even wilder: I wanted more, and I wanted something more extreme, but I was also afraid to let my imagination roam any further. I did everything I could to keep it in check, but it was a losing battle. I sensed that last night was merely an introduction and I was overcome by the wish to give of myself utterly, in ways that made the predictably insipid fetish videos I peeked at seem humdrum.
My ex had introduced me to porn, massively heterosexual, and I had never really responded. In my more depressed and unsatisfied moments I had rented lesbian videos, some of which I liked when I was in heat; but the fakeness of it all always took away the excitement. I wanted something genuine, real, intense, especially now that I had crossed a threshhold.
The door opened quietly as I was musing and Heather came in. She was about a thousand times more lovely in the light of day. I was intimidated by her youth and beauty. She approached and kissed me on the lips and asked about my sleep -- all so normally, as if we were old acquaintances.
"Mmmm, I can still smell my pussy on your face," she said. "Was this really the first time you've been with girls?"
She sat down on the bed and pulled me beside her and I kissed her on the lips and stroked her short blond hair and we started to talk about ourselves. I told her about my cousins, my blasé and mistaken marriage, my work, such as it was. She in turn told me about meeting Gwen while dancing at the same Gentlemen's Club. I should have known she was a dancer judging from her incredibly taut and supple body! Gwen had moved on from dancing and was now a co-owner of Loveladies while Heather continued to perform for the men she loathed and held in thrall.
"I'm trying to save up to buy into Gwen's club, but for now the money's fabulous, and the perks are great -- most of the gals are lez and that's where Gwen and I get our occasional playmates. That's how we keep things hot. I'm surprised she picked you up -- that's a no-no for her, not good for business. But actually I guess I'm not surprised: you're really very fetching, very alluring, very ... "sub", like me I think -- and that drives Gwen over the edge."
"And let me tell you," Heather added, " last night was soft-core. The best is yet to come." My heart leapt -- and sank! What had I gotten myself into?
"But hey," continued Heather, "we've got work to do... Gwen told me you're staying through Monday night, is that right?"
I nodded quietly, in a kind of daze. Was that right? I asked myself.
"If you need to check messages or make a few calls I'll give you my cell. And you must be famished by now. Let's grab a sandwich and take a walk while Gwen's at the bar. She won't be getting back until 10 anyway, so we have plenty of time to kill."
So we ate and went outside. Heather has rustled up a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt for me and we made our way around town on a warm sunny day just as if I had been with an old friend. We stopped for coffee, took a brisk loop around the park and then returned to the brownstone. I was feeling invigorated and was on the verge of just thanking Heather and stealing away to my cozy home before I made more of a fool of myself than I had to. But Heather's luscious lips and body beckoned... And I remembered how frustrated I had been -- for years, not days! Why should I let this opportunity get away? And after all, what could top last night, what more could actually happen?
I threw my arms around Heather as soon as we returned to the apartment but she gently peeled them away and drew me by the hand to the very same sofa we had frolicked on. We necked for a few minutes and then Heather cautioned me that it would be angering Gwen to do anything in her absence.
"Besides," she remarked, "we should get ourselves ready -- it's after 8." She ran a bath for me and I luxuriated in it, feeling my desire mount and my curiosity increase. As I was toweling off Heather entered the bathroom with shaving implements.
"Both Gwen and I like our playmates' pussies to be smooth," she smirked. So she lathered my cunt and carefully and tenderly shaved me. When she was finished she gave my pussy a smack that sent delightful shivers through my loins.
I was taken aback when she drew me into their bedroom. It was spacious and very comfortable. Three windows looked out on the tree-lined street, but in between the windows were large mirrors. The room held two small sofas and a king-sized bed. But there was something funny about the setup, and I didn't recognize it until after a few minutes. Four plants hung from large eyebolts in the ceiling -- but the plants were between the windows, and not in front of them; plus, they were about 5 or 6 feet from the windows' wall and more towards the center of the room. Curious, I thought.
Heather led me to the bed.
"Here are your things for the evening," she said.
"These?" I asked incredulously. On the bed were a leather bra and thong, both with buckles, a leather collar with 4 O-rings, high patent-leather heels with ankle straps, and several long black silk scarves.
Heather wasted no time in pulling me by the hair and smacking my mouth, hard, as she shoved me to my knees.
"Stay on your fucking knees and don't ask questions, bitch." She slapped me again on the mouth, and again.
"Open your mouth, slut." I did and she inserted her hand, which I licked, and then she slapped me several more times, across my cheek and mouth, backhand and forehand. I couldn't believe how quickly she had been transformed -- but worse: I couldn't believe how much I enjoyed feeling the sting of her hand, the burning of lips and cheek, coupled with how she jerked my head by the hair.
"Now get into these fucking things, slut." I meekly and hastily obeyed. Heather intervened to help with buckling the bra and thong straps, and then she replaced the makeshift collar around my neck with a new one, securing it with a tiny padlock. "I'm Mistress Heather until otherwise notified, bitch," she said curtly. "On your knees." As I knelt she fastened my wrists behind my back and bound my ankles and dragged me harshly by the hair in front of one of the mirrors between the windows.
"Here, I want you to get a good look at yourself, you degraded little bitch," she hissed. I was breathing rapidly.
"Keep your fucking back arched," she added, pulling on my hair and again slapping my mouth. "How many times do I have to tell you this? Didn't you learn from last night?" Her voice, like Gwen's, was stern but controlled and quiet.
"I'm sorry, I..." I couldn't get the words out because she started slapping me again, sharply, and --- and I liked it. My lips grew slightly puffy and were tingling.
"Don't" -- smack! -- "you" -- smack! -- "dare" -- smack! -- "speak" -- smack! --"without" -- smack! -- "permission!" Smack! Smack! Smack! "Get it?"
I nodded. She knelt down and kissed my neck and my burning lips very sweetly. "Good little slut," she whispered. "You're so delectable, even if you are middle-aged...Now stay here and think about what a subservient cunt you are, and this (she held a leash in her hands) is to make sure you don't stray."
She clipped the leash to my collar and lashed the other end to the bedpost behind me. By any reasonable standard I should have been terrified, agitated, weeping -- and yet, gazing at my kneeling and bound and leashed and leathered figure, a strange stillness swept over me. I liked -- no, I loved! -- what I saw. My lustrous long red hair cascaded around my reddened face, my pussy was sopping wet, my skin was alive all over -- and it had only just begun! I was so relieved that I could finally, finally surrender. I felt as if I were in dream and lost track of time. Even the softness of the silk around my wrists and ankles thrilled, paradoxically making me feel freer than ever I felt before. The light was falling and the trees outside the room rustled ominously.
Heather re-entered and ritualistically lit at least a dozen candles around the playroom's perimeter, creating an eerie but warm ambience, an ambience fitting for sacrifice, I thought.
"I see you've been still, like a good girl," she teased.
She was wearing my vest, a crotchless leather thong and expensive heels. She too had a collar like mine around her lovely smooth neck.
"Now crawl over to our Procrustean bed," she commanded. Wow, I thought, a classics major! I hoped I fit!
When I reached the bed she pulled me roughly by the hair to show me what she wanted, which was that I get lift myself onto it, after she removed the leash. After several awkward tries, I succeeded, and knelt facing the headboard.
"I have a little surprise for you, slut," cooed Heather, and reaching around me from behind she affixed two small toothed plastic clamps onto my hard nipples. I began panting from the initially sharp pain. She untied my hands and pushed me down onto my face and stomach. The clamps on my nipples made me cry out as my breasts rubbed against the sheets. But this too I relished, and I relished the way Heather stretched each arm to its limit as she wound the scarves around opposite bedposts. She did the same with my feet and legs, and the sensation of my entire body being so taut, so stretched, while my nipples pulsed with the pang of friction, made me pant in a sort of delirious excitement and fear. I cried out again and Heather jerked my head sideways and slapped my mouth sharply several times.
"How many times do I have to tell you to be quiet? How many times?" She sounded genuinely irritated, and the next time she grasped my hair she slipped a ball into my mouth and tied a strap around my head. So this was a ball gag, just as I had seen in those awful fetish films... Every sound I made was now muffled. I squirmed and pulled on my bindings but I was stretched so tautly and securely it was useless.
"I'm going to warm you up for Mistress Gwen," said Heather, and before I could figure out what she meant my back was afire and I screamed. She cruelly brought the tails of the suede flogger under my neck and lifted my head with them and then stepped back from the bed and brought the whip hard across my buttocks. I flinched involuntarily and my cunt seeped. I can't describe how I loved how she used me, how it was to lie there with no control whatsoever while beautiful fierce Heather stung me. It hurt, oh it hurt, but it felt so good too, like nothing I had ever experienced.
"You like it, don't you bitch?" asked Heather. I tried to nod but another blow came down on my back and I shivered again and panted and drooled a little. Yes, keep it up, I thought to myself, Susie is yours, Heather, yours to do with as you please. With every blow of the long lashes of the whip my breasts were jolted by the clamps that rubbed on the sheets and pulled and bit into my nipples.
"I like the way you take it, slut," continued Heather, "and I know you want it harder, don't you?" I weakly answered through my gag. "Don't you?" she repeated, louder, as she lashed my ass and I twitched. Tears filled my eyes but I wanted her to go on, to take me, to lash me over and over.
"Yes, what a good little slut," she murmured. My back and ass and the backs of my arms and legs were aflame. She had timed the blows masterfully: just as the burning would begin to subside the whip would fall and the sharp pain would crescendo. I was breathing so fast and heavily now...
"Susie, dear," said Heather, "when I take the gag out, I will expect something." She removed it and I breathed with relief, barely able to contain myself. Then the whip fell again across my back and I screamed out, "Please!"
"Please what?" Heather inquired. I gulped, on the verge of sobbing. And after the slowest several seconds of my life, so worried that I was trying Heather's limited patience as I gathered my thoughts, I whispered, "Please...please may I have another?" Another I received, across my ass, so so hard and stinging and vicious, and yet so comforting somehow.
"Thank you, Mistress!" I shouted.
"You're welcome, bitch." Then Heather disappeared.
(to be continued)