by Bryce, A. L.
“Sophia, take off your panties and give them to me. Will you do that for me?”
Sophia had reached under her skirt and yanked at her panties, nearly ripping them in the process. Slow-steady-lap-lap-lap Sophia couldn’t move fast enough to obey the request. She’d flung out her hand, panties dangling from her fingertips, and waited for the woman to take them, hoping painfully that their hands might brush against each other.
“I’m Mrs. Pea. Like a sweet pea. Can you remember that?”
“Mrs. Pea.”
Mrs. Pea had opened her purse and held it out, and Sophia, after a moment, understood that she was to drop the panties into the open mouth of the purse.
“I’m going to take your panties home with me now and I’m going to lie down on my fainting couch and I’ll put your panties over my face and smell you while a very dear friend of mine works me, fucking me hard with a very nice dildo I happen to have. Oh, it’s my favorite to be sure. I’ll have this friend of mine fuck me very, very hard with this very nice dildo, all the while inhaling your lovely perfume. Doesn’t that sound divine?”
With that, Mrs. Pea had snapped her purse shut, walked past Sophia, and gone out the door.
Sophia had stood there, perfectly still in the middle of the bathroom, coming violently.
Sophia dropped the pillow to the floor, reached into her sweatpants, and began to press and pinch and roll the folds of her lips and clit. Her fingers slid effortlessly into her sopping pussy. She pushed harder, her fingers for once inadequate to the task, not slender enough, not smooth enough. She wanted them to be stronger. She wanted them to be someone else’s. She pulled her hand out, stumbled up out of the chair and into her room. As always, the shades were drawn. A small white ceramic lamp shed light against the pale pink walls, festooned with several art deco mirrors—the better to watch herself with her subs. She threw open her sex toy drawer, which was organized by size, color, and brand, and grabbed her favorite Lelo vibrator, a black rubber colossus with 21 different settings. Sophia flung herself onto the bed, massaging her cunt with the vibrator, flipping through the settings and varying the intensity, her legs straight out, high in the air, then bicycling. Sophia rubbed, thrust, and jiggled the vibrator against her slick pussy, insane with the urge to come again and again as she relived the incident in the bathroom.
“You’re plain ... so plain ... I yanked my panties down ... I’ll yank them down ... plain girl ... Oh, fuck ... Oh, yeah ... Oh, Jesus, fuck me ... fuck me ... ffffffffuuu ...”
Sophia threw the vibrator to the empty side of the bed and sat up, the hunger in her core still gnawing at her, seeking release. “Aargh!” she cried, then threw her head back and gazed at the ceiling.
4
PRIDE ALMOST STOPPED HER. Almost. But the next evening at 7, she showered, chose a fucking awesome pair of red lace panties that had cost her, oh, about two month’s rent, and threw on a black halter dress she knew did great things for her ass and tits. She spritzed herself with a little Aqua di Gio and applied her make-up carefully. She thought about taking a purse so she could ask some random submissive to drop her panties into it, but knew that she wanted Mrs. Pea to have that role and that she wanted her own panties to be the ones that fell into the open maw of that sleek leather handbag. Only hers.
She got her cab driver to run two red lights heading to Happy Betty’s. Now, she sat on the same bar stool as before and nursed her second martini. Mrs. Pea wasn’t there. Chance hadn’t remembered her, or said she didn’t, but there was a certain look on her face that led Sophia to believe the sly butch knew exactly who she meant when she asked who “that older woman I bought a drink for two nights ago” was or when she’d be back or if she came in often. Anything. Anything about Mrs. Pea would be welcome. And Chance had said nothing.
Like a slave, Sophia began going to Happy Betty’s every night. Was Mrs. Pea some weird contrivance the bar had devised to get uber-loyal customers? Where, oh, where was Mrs. Pea? Sophia had had to replace the batteries in the Lelo twice in the last two weeks. Her pussy was nearly to the point of having calluses.
Then, one night, she didn’t go. She stayed home, unlocked her suitcase and crawled into a pair of plain cotton panties and her big sweatshirt and watched Big Love on Netflix and ate popcorn.
The next morning, she began planning for the next session with Willow, including calling a woman who was unfortunately named Porsche, but who had the best spanking ass Sophia had ever had the pleasure of pinking up, and who she felt would be an excellent foil for Willow. She got out her toys and took an inventory. She was a bit bored with the tools at her command and cruised a few websites looking for something new. She found a new ball gag that had a removable cylinder in the ball where a sub’s tongue could be inserted and, well, screwed down. She had the feeling Willow would faint with pleasure just at the thought of it.
That afternoon she took a cab to her favorite vintage clothing store and purchased a new pair of opera-length black leather gloves with pearl buttons. She loved to wear this kind of glove when spanking, plus gentle beatings with the gloves themselves worked well as a warm-up for the more intense whips and quirts she owned.
Friday evening worked best for everyone, and Sophia felt her power growing as she pulled her black rubber corset out of the closet. A true work of art, this corset was leather and rubber and the maker had constructed it so Sophia could strap herself into the corset very tightly without anyone’s assistance. First, the corset was tied in the traditional way, then clamps sewn into the sides were levered shut, pulling the corset snug. You could lever it once, twice, or—if you were insane—three times. Sophia levered it twice and gazed into the full-length mirror on the inside of her closet door.
“Oh, corset, how I love you,” she purred.
It was an under-bust corset, and Sophia loved to watch her tits bounce gently up and down as she continued to dress, glancing into the various mirrors positioned around her bedroom. She’d found the mirrors at the estate sale of an old woman down the block. She’d passed her on the street a few times and had nodded or said hello. When the woman had died, her daughter had opened up the house, as is, and sold all her mother’s splendor. Sophia had been amazed at the woman’s boudoir. It looked like a pleasure palace, with draping fabric around a four-poster bed and mirrors hung strategically to best benefit whatever activity was transpiring there. Sophia had purchased all the mirrors and hung them as closely as possible to the old woman’s original plan.
Now, she pulled on a pair of black silk tap pants (very roomy and very accessible) and a pair of black silk thigh-highs with seams up the back. Then she opened a box on her dresser with cydwoq written on the side. Not the Rhos but Seek, which, at the time of the order, had seemed so apropos. She slid into the heels. Black tooled leather on one side snuggled up against plain black on the other. Plain. Two thin straps coming across and hooking, holding the foot in place. A wood kitten heel. She was getting moist. At least she had this from Mrs. Pea: a memory that got her hot and a new shoe line to throw money at. Oh, the joys of a bathroom tryst!
She was rouging her nipples when the doorbell rang. Damn it. Someone was early. She quickly rinsed her hands and grabbed the leather gloves off the dresser. Snapping the gloves against her palm, she headed for the door.
She looked through the peephole at Porsche, who was biting her lip and smoothing her hair into place. She opened the door and barked sternly, “You’re early. Get on your hands and knees and get yourself over by that blue chair.”
Porsche immediately fell to her hands and knees, her short coat riding up to reveal edges of a fine ass, something pink and sheer clinging to it.
“I like the look of your ass. Point yourself toward the wall so I can see it clearly. Take off that awful coat, throw it in the corner, and push your ass up into the air. Oh, honey, you’d better be able to get it up higher than that or you won’t be invited back.”
Sophia left Porsche by the chair and went back to the bedroom. She liked to give
her subs some time to worry themselves a bit before giving them more attention. She sat on her bed and went over the plans for the evening. Everything was in order. It was going to be very, very rewarding to work the two girls at the same time. She slapped the gloves against her palm again and waited for the doorbell.
Willow rang the bell on the stroke of 7. To the second. Sophia wasn’t sure how Willow managed it, but it pleased her that the girl took her command to “be here on the dot” literally.
Willow was a fitting name for her submissive—tall and nearly rail-thin, with the tight, high ass of a little boy and tits that fit perfectly into a couple of 50’s-style champagne glasses. For a while, she referred to her as “Weeping Willow,” since at the beginning the girl cried nearly the entire session. Eventually, Sophia tired of it and had to command her to stop.
“Willow, come in. Your coat can be put in the corner with Porsche’s. Let me see what you’re wearing.”
Sophia nodded with approval at Willow’s choice of a butter-yellow cupless bra and G-string, white thigh-highs and Steve Madden four-inch heels. Willow had once commented that she felt cheap in G-strings and Sophia had rarely let her wear anything else since. Willow’s nipples were hardening under Sophia’s gaze. Sophia reached out and tweaked the right then the left nipple gently, then more forcefully, bringing a delighted sigh to Willow’s lips. Then she leaned in and kissed her current favorite on the mouth. Willow offered up her tongue fully and Sophia sucked on it gently, then bit down—not exactly hard, but not exactly not hard. She bit just the right amount.
“You’re juicy now, yes?”
“Yes! Yes, I’m juicy for you, Mistress,” Willow said excitedly. She’d been waiting for Sophia’s call and was getting frantic by the time it finally came. Willow depended on Sophia to instruct her and punish her and make her come outrageously. She hadn’t been given permission from Sophia to come on her own and had been forbidden other women. If Sophia wasn’t in the mood for Willow, then Willow had to suffer silently until Sophia was ready. She often wondered if Sophia forgot about her. So when Sophia’s call eventually came, Willow had gone limp with relief. And of course, there were those times—like after the recent whipping with the quirt—when Willow would go home and have to satisfy herself. These were few and far between, and were the only times Willow disobeyed her mistress.
“Willow, this is Porsche.”
Porsche began to rise and Sophia mashed her heel into her, pushing her back into a kneeling position. “Did anyone tell you to move? Did they? How dare you come here and not obey me?” Sophia let her full displeasure be known. Her foot remained on Porsche’s back, the heel grinding just a bit into her flesh. Porsche felt her pussy dripping and prayed it wasn’t on her new mistress’s beautiful Oriental silk rug.
Willow felt her hackles rising. What was this? Sophia was hers. Hers! She didn’t want to share her time with Sophia. Her mistress. Mistress, mistress. Her mistress had warned her twice already that she should never call her Sophia. But Willow was so fond of her that she found herself calling her “Sophia” in her head and “Mistress” to her face. It was hard to keep the two separate, but to her, Sophia was Sophia, a woman she loved with all her heart. The mistress administered the punishments, but Sophia made her come.
“As I was saying ... Willow, this lousy submissive is Porsche. I want you to help me train her to be a good sub, like you. Porsche, Willow is your better. She will help you to follow my rules and teach you how to behave in my presence. Willow, to begin I’d like you to teach this poor trollop how to properly present her ass to me.”
Sophia strolled out of the room, slapping the leather gloves against her thigh.
Willow grabbed Porsche’s arm and pulled the girl up.
“You’re a fucking lousy smelly poor excuse for a sub and you’ll never be as good as me but, as Soph- ... as Mistress has commanded, I will now demonstrate to you how to present your ass.”
Willow dropped to all fours and thrust her ass up high into the air. From this position, she continued, “As you can see, the ass is fully open and accessible to the mistress. Do not clench. Do not sway. Do not bounce. Keep the ass as high as you can without trembling. You’ll need to practice, since at first your legs will start to tremble and ache. A good sub will practice until she can maintain a high ass for ... well, forever, if Mistress commands it. Also, you want to be high enough that your pussy is easy to stroke or swat or pinch or ... ” Willow trailed off as her own pussy glistened with desire. Porsche reached forward and stroked Willow between the legs. Willow jerked away violently.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she shrieked in a whisper.
“You look so tasty. I want to taste that sweet pussy,” Porsche replied quietly. “She’s not in the room. Let me have a little taste.”
“Are you ... Jesus! Mistress will ... Well, I have no idea what Mistress will do. You do that to her not me!”
“Why can’t we all do it to each other?” Porsche asked just as Sophia came back into the room.
Willow shoved Porsche down to the ground and yanked her waist up. “As I was saying, high up in the air for access by the mistress ... ”
Sophia reached between Porsche’s legs, pushed the crotch of the sheer pink panties aside, and felt her cunt. Her sap was full in her and, at Sophia’s touch, came cascading down onto the leather-gloved hand.
“My, my,” murmured Sophia. Porsche squirmed and Sophia removed her hand and began smacking Porsche’s ass. “Did Willow instruct you properly? Do you move when I touch you?” Sophia calmly brought her hand down again and again across Porsche’s cheeks. She continued the beating until Porsche’s cheeks were bright pink, as pink as the panties she wore. Then she stopped and walked over to Willow.
5
“AND YOU?” SOPHIA REACHED between Willow’s legs and placed three gloved fingers up her twat. The young woman was so wet, the fingers disappeared effortlessly and Willow moaned with her lips shut tightly. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she fought the urge to ride that hand back and forth until she came. Fought hard and barely won.
“Oh, Mistress! Please apply the crop to me. Or the quirt!” Willow remained stock still, her ass raised, knowing that even a slight sway would displease Sophia and delay the whipping she so wanted and deserved.
Sophia sighed. She hated when they begged for beatings. She preferred to deliver her punishments at her own discretion, not at the pleading of the subs.
“Do you deserve a punishment?”
“Porsche tried to lick my pussy!” Willow blurted.
“Really?” Sophia asked casually. She turned to Porsche. “Really?” she asked again.
Porsche leapt up. “Her hot little twat was thrust up nearly in my face! She wasn’t just showing me what you wanted, she was showing me what she wanted!”
“That’s a lie, Mistress!” Willow bounded up, waving her hands. “I would never ... ”
“Quiet! The both of you,” Sophia seethed. She paced the room. “Both of you get on the ground and get those asses up in the air. NOW.”
Both girls scurried to the floor, jutting their sweet asses up, up, up: Willow, steady as a brick, having assumed this position often and for long periods of time. Porsche, with quivering thighs and a vibrating ass, determined to please her new mistress and establish herself as the most obedient of subs.
Sophia walked over and rubbed each girl’s cheeks appreciatively in her gloved hands. She kneaded the tender flesh of their buttocks, then began to pinch and rub roughly.
“You may ... vocalize,” she allowed.
Immediately, both began to moan and sigh with pleasure at the attention given their firm young asses.
Sophia slid a hand between each girl’s legs and found each of their clits. She began stroking back and forth. The moaning heightened and Porsche began grinding herself against Sophia’s hand. Sophia immediately removed her hand and instead focused on Willow, rewarding her for not moving. Porsche understood immediately and became immobile. Sophia�
�s hand returned to Porsche’s cunt, rubbing and stroking, her gloves glossy with both girls’ juices.
Abruptly, she stopped it all and sat in her blue chair.
“Willow, pleasure Porsche,” she commanded in a quiet, off-hand voice.
Willow hated Porsche now, hated her, and giving her pleasure was the last thing she wanted to do. She wanted her gone. She wanted her mistress to herself! But to please Sophia was her top priority. If that meant bringing Porsche to a shattering climax, so be it. She was determined to bring the stupid cunt to her knees and make her come harder than she’d ever come before.
Willow laid Porsche back on the couch and began to stroke her body from head to toe. Porsche steeled herself. There was no way this stick of a woman was going to excite her. She was as determined as Willow. Determined to not come, to not be moved.
Willow nuzzled Porsche’s neck, sipping on her flesh, nibbling gently and occasionally biting tenderly, her tongue meandering along the unwilling girl’s throat to the fullness of her breasts. She brought one nipple into her mouth and sucked gently. To Porsche’s dismay, her nipples tightened and her back arched slightly to thrust the nipple more firmly into Willow’s beautiful mouth. Willow caressed Porsche’s arms and legs, eventually bringing her hands up Porsche’s creamy thighs and against her wet little cleft. Willow drew back, pulled Porsche’s drenched pink panties off, and said, “Turn over, Porsche, turn over.”
Porsche obeyed, renewing her resolve to remain unmoved by Willow’s tongue, her mouth, her wonderful hands that seemed to be everywhere at once. She thought about baseball and her dog that had died when she was a child, anything to dampen the excitement rising in her. Willow tucked a pillow under Porsche’s belly and thighs, lifting the girl’s ass and displaying it—and her new rival’s beautiful bald cunt—to perfection. Willow began to rim Porsche, her tongue swirling around and around Porsche’s ass cheeks like a tiny little roulette wheel. Her tongue swirled until the tip of it landed on Porsche’s hot little scrunch of an asshole, jutting inside, making her gasp with pleasure—a gasp Porsche quickly stifled.
