Disclaimer:
You know who you are, if it's not legal for you to be reading a story detailing sordid and kinky sexy between a teenage goddess and a butch old enough to be her... older sister. Don't. ;)
The back of her hand struck me with such force my neck snapped to the side and I had to blink to clear my vision. The blow hadn't been entirely unexpected. The force had been. I looked up to the girl, which was definitely the word, I was on my knees at the feet of with something like awe and just a touch of fear. I had definitely underestimated her. In that moment I found myself wondering how I had ended up here in my own flat kneeling before of this teenage Dominatrix. You see, I'm no sub. I'm not a Domme either in all fairness. I think the most appropriate word for my usual sexual practices would be 'Top'. Right now, though, I was very much on the bottom.
It had all started three months ago. A club in town ran a fortnightly night dedicated to some really fringe music. I'd heard all sorts of names for the kind of stuff that they played, grind-core, industrial, bleep-core, electro-noise, whatever. Some of them I knew like Nine Inch Nails, others I'd only started to learn about after going a couple of times, like Sonic Jihad. Not my usual sort of music and I certainly didn't fit in with the crowd. In fact if it hadn't been for her I probably never would have gone a second time.
That first night I couldn't have felt more conspicuous if I was painted green. The crowd was what you'd call goths. Not all of them, admittedly, but the vast majority. All black leather or PVC and fishnet which I admit had been the attraction in the first place. Even the ones who looked less gothy and more brightly coloured shared their pale white complexions, however. My African heritage marked me as an outsider straight away. Then there was the fact that I'm pretty stone butch and very unashamed of it. To fit in just a little I wore my leather jeans and biker boots but a white sleeveless t-shirt finished the outfit off and wasn't quite the expected look. It did show off my muscles, though, which I'd always liked.
Most of the night I'd found myself propped up against the railing over looking the dance-floor people-watching like some nature documentarian as I nursed my beer bottle or crashed out on the red leather over-stuffed couches that littered the chill out room. It was there, from a corner couch which I had all to myself given that no one seemed too interested in getting to know the 6'3" bald black woman in the bull-dyke gear, that I spotted her. As a sometimes-doorperson my first reaction was that if she'd been at the door of any of my venues I'd have turned her away even with an id. She couldn't have been 18, not a chance of it. Still, most of the door staff there worked out at my gym and I knew them, trusted their judgement. If she'd got past them she was old enough.
The second thing that crossed my mind was 'damn, girl.' I'm a sucker for heels, I admit. I'm a slut for them. Nothing gets to me like a hot femme tottering on dangerous spikes. Yeah, stilettos are my kryptonite, no doubt about it. Hers were 8" or strike me down. The platform under her toes wasn't near as tall as you'd expect from that sort of spike either. She moved so easily in them I knew she was a regular heel wearer and not just putting it on for the night too. The boots went up to her knees, shiny metal eyelets running front and back their whole length. Silver seemed stockings emerged from the top and disappeared under a black pleated skirt covered in zippers and chains. Her top was a black corset that cinched her into a very desirable hourglass and a pair of opera length black fishnet gloves. As my eyes ran up the pin-up ready gorgeous look they paused just below her jaw-line on a many-ringed collar which made me grin like a predator. Maybe she was wearing it for looks or maybe, just maybe I could get a leash on one of those rings. Finishing my tour of her body I finally saw her face and felt a twitch deep inside of me. She was beautiful. Her face was narrow and gently tapered at the jaw. Her lipstick was a very, very dark red and the only colour on her entire body. Her eyebrows were penciled thin and curved eyes wide like a japanese cartoon. I wanted her.
Biding my time I waited until she was alone at the bar. That took a while. I was unsurprised to see that a large portion of the populous seemed to rotate around her and they refused to leave her alone for my strike. By the time I saw my chance, she'd bought herself three drinks but I'd been patient. Come her fourth return to the bar, no one went with her, except me. I leant on the bar next to her and offered a smile which I was pleased to see her return. "What do you want?"
"Hmm?" She sounded a little distant but then her smile spread ever so slightly in a way which made me twitch again. It was a smile of acceptance. Accepting my offer to buy her a drink but who knew where she saw the offer leading. I knew where I saw it, I had visions of this creature strapped down to my bed frame screaming. "Vodka red-bull."
I flagged down the bartender and ordered a vodka red-bull and a rolling rock in the bottle.
"So why are you buying me drinks?" She asked. There was this edge to it, a playful quality that said 'I know the answer but I want to hear it.' As much as I wanted to face that head on I decided to play it subtler.
"Seems like a real cliquey night, barely said hello to anyone all night and you, well, you seem to know everyone. If I'm gonna get on the in, it's gonna be through you." I grinned and held up my rock in salute. "Whaddya say?"
She looked me over, considering me, assessing me. It wasn't a cold look at all. "Sure, I think we can work something out."
"Glad to hear it." Her name was Anna, she revealed and I introduced myself in return as Chris. We had moved back to my red leather couch and in between fleeting visits by the social scene's elite who came to be seen with her, despite having to brave the presence of the scary black woman, we spoke. She was an art student at the local university, was responsible for those fetish-laced flyers for the club night that had lured me here. She was single, though I can't remember to this day if I asked or she offered that pearl. She was friends with the night's organiser which was why she was placed on such a pedestal by so many of the regulars.
As fun as it all was I gently steered the conversation back toward fetish, asking her about her inspirations for the flyers. It turns out she was surprisingly deeply entrenched in the scene. More so than me. She was talking about scene nights I hadn't heard of, clubs I'd only heard of by name. I'd heard enough, I was hooked and for the rest of the night it didn't matter entirely what she was saying, only that she was saying it to me.
Sadly when the end of the night came and I offered her a lift home she refused. Anna, it turned out, still lived with her parents who would freak if she turned up in a strange car driven by a strange woman more than ten years her senior. I understood the logic but I was disappointed.
The fortnight that followed was filled with wet dreams and day dreams, mostly revolving around this petite goth goddess strapped down in various increasingly uncomfortable positions as I tormented her flesh and then invaded it, fucking her furiously with my favourite black leather harnessed girl-cock. I needed it.
It wasn't a case of dry spell desire either, I actually had quite a healthy sex life. I even spent more time than usual with my girlfriends fooling around to excise the demon Anna but they just didn't scratch the itch she'd caused. Next time the club night was due, I was there in style. This time, I swapped the white t-shirt for a black one to fit in a little better and I sought Anna out directly on the excuse that we had spent so long talking and not introducing me to anyone else she was still the only person there I knew.
Weeks passed like that, I pursued her every fortnight never managing to satisfy my urges despite how roughly or how furiously I worked other women over. She was in my head, lodged behind my eyes, pulling the control wires that went from brain to cunt. I was going to do myself harm if I didn't get some of her soon. Yet every night I saw her she refused any offer of letting the night continue. She went home, alone.
Then something strange happened. That night wasn't my only diversion for the night times. I was a regular at another club in town, one that was more attuned to my tastes. The cellar bar was all trip-hop and chill out music which was more my taste when I saw her. She walked down the wrought iron spiral stairs and crossed to the bar. She had to know I was there, had to have come here specifically to torment me, I was sure of it. She ordered her drink, then looked directly at me. I was right, she did know.
She walked directly towards me and everything fell away from me, the music, the other people in the room, there was nothing bar the two of us as she slid into the other side of my boot and I felt her foot rest against mine. "Hi."
"Hi, Anna," I smiled, "I didn't expect to see you here."
She laughed a little, a laugh I had fallen in lust for, then her eyes fixed mine with an intent stare. "I wouldn't normally come here, it's true."
"So," I started, following the leading statement just where it lead, "why are you here?"
That foot twitched, it slid up a little, pressing firmly for me to feel it through the thick leather of my boot. "You." She smiled and sipped her drink. "I wanted to talk to you, Chris."
I smiled and sipped my own drink, satisfied that at last my suave womanising charms had worked, at last I would bed my Anna. "I hope I'm glad to hear that."
She smiled again. "Oh I think you will be," she leant in close, "just tell me this, you want me, don't you?"
I laughed. "You have no idea," I told her, "how badly."
"Good, because I'm going home with you tonight," she said forwardly. It wasn't a question but a statement. "Well," she added, leaning back.
"Well?" I asked, hearing my pulse just behind my ear and a tightness in my cunt like nothing I'd ever experienced.
"That is..." she turned coy again, the same way she always had whenever I'd hinted at the two of us together. "Chris, I want to, but you're... If you take me home, I want it to be on my terms, OK?" I nodded. I could deal with nervous. I'd dealt with nervous before. "Good."
We'd gone straight home after those drinks were finished, which considering we both up-ended them and drained them in one wasn't long. I needed my taste. She'd lead me on and I knew it, she was a clit tease. Still at least it seemed like she was going to be the kind who made the tease worth while.
Getting through the door she had turned on me before I had a chance to shut it, her hands wrapping around my head and pulling me down to kiss her with a hunger that matched my own. I purred against her as my hands began to slip down her sides. Just as they reached her corseted waist she broke from me. "Close the door." I did. "My terms, Chris? You promised."
"Your terms, Anna." I didn't frankly care. Finally I had her in my flat, soon to be in my bed. Her terms, my terms, as long as they ended up with us naked it was all good.
"Kneel for me," she asked, quietly. It was slightly breathless, excited, very aroused. I played along and I knelt. She looked stunning, the same 8" heels she had been wearing the very first night I saw her. Her stockings had a zig-zag of pink running down either side. Her skirt was vinyl and her top was too, strapless and scooping to show her off to her best. There was no collar, but that was fine, I had a spare.
That's when she struck me.
Now at least I realised how I had come to be here. I'd been played. Looking back over the last few weeks I realised she had been playing me a long time, perhaps from the first night we met. I opened my mouth to speak.
"Don't say it," she warned, no longer coy but cold steel which some how heated me more. "Don't you say a word. My terms. You agreed." The corners of her mouth quirked, but she wasn't smiling, the bitch was smirking at me. "Now be a good girl and kiss some leather." She reached down, placing the palm of her hand on my bald scalp and shoving me down to her boots.
Why I didn't resist I'm still not clear on. Maybe the lust had taken over. Maybe the foot fetishist in me overlooked the submissiveness and put me that first step on a slippery slope. Whatever the reason, I pliantly leant forward and placed my lips to the toe of her boot, moaning softly as I smelt the freshly polished leather. In the background on the edge of hearing I heard her speak again. "Good girl."
To be continued, if there's demand.
Chris (blkbutch@gmail.com)
I'm as much a slut for feedback as I am for heels so please, write me, tell me what you love, what you hate and MOST IMPORTANT... do you want a part 2?