by Bryce, A. L.
Next, Willow went to work on her cunt—not in the fashion preferred by her mistress, but by making her tongue a pointed little sword that penetrated Porsche over and over again. Slick little wet little tongue moving in and out of her ass and in and out of her pussy. Porsche ground her teeth. No, no, no ... I ... can’t ... ooooh, sweet Jesus on the cross! ... her tongue ... in me ... Oh, deeper! Shove it in deeper, you little angel! Oh, fuck me with that little sturdy tongue of yours, you sweet little ... Oooooh, fuck me. Yes. Yes.
Willow felt Porsche’s response and redoubled her efforts. Suddenly, she felt Sophia place a small bottle of lube in her hand. She was able to open it and lube up her hands while tongue-fucking the bejesus out of Porsche. Her lubed hands came up now and one moved to her ass and cunt, the other wrapped around and found a hard little nipple to squeeze and a big breast to massage. The hand between Porsche’s legs began a luscious game of fingers moving in and out of ass and pussy, ass and pussy. She felt Porsche’s lips and clit swelling ridiculously big, bigger than Sophia’s ever had, and she was pleased with her own prowess. She pulled her hand away, and Porsche let out a mew of dismay.
After a maddening pause, Willow returned to her fingerfuck of ass and cunt, and Porsche cried out and began working her hips hard against those fingers. To hell with resolve! Porsche surrendered completely. Moaning and pressing her face into the couch, thrusting her hips back and forth to the rhythm of Willow’s fingers entering, exiting, entering, exiting.
“Deeper! Fuck me HARD. Oh, fuck me DEEPER! YES! That’s ... YES, Oh, fuck, YEEEEESSSSSS!”
Willow was excited now too, and fucked Porsche’s soaking pussy as hard as she could, pushing with her whole body against the slick bald cunt and glossy asshole, increasing her rhythm to a fever pitch.
“You FUCKINGWONDERFULBITCHWILLOW ... I’m coming. Oh, yes, yes, I’m coming now ...” From a yell to barely a whisper as Porsche quivered and quaked, the climax shattering her to pieces and delivering her to a quiet empty space she’d never been before. For a few seconds, she even forgot to breathe.
Willow rose victorious with a smirk on her face. Fucking Porsche. Do not try to take my place, you sub of a sub. But she was dripping too and her nipples were hard little beads on her tits, wanting to be sucked and sucked and sucked.
Sophia motioned Willow to sit and turned to Porsche.
“Pull yourself together, you have work to do.”
6
SOPHIA GAZED AT PORSCHE blandly. Slowly, she tugged the fingers of a still wet glove off one hand and laid it next to her chair. Then she did the same with the second glove, resting it on top of the other and smoothing it out. She sat back and drummed her fingers against the arm of the chair. She pursed her lips and let out a long sigh. The drumming abruptly stopped. “Eat out Willow until she comes.”
Porsche rose unsteadily, but ready for the challenge. She was still horny as hell and wanted to topple Willow the same way she’d been defeated. Plus, she knew she was skilled with her tongue.
Porsche grabbed the G-string at Willow’s waist and roughly pulled it down. Porsche pushed Willow’s thighs apart and dove directly for her pussy, which was already glistening and swollen with excitement. Porsche’s tongue lapped the edges of Willow’s lips, darted in and out of her rosy opening, then returned to the edges to tease. Willow’s legs tensed. She lifted her ass off the couch, grabbed Porsche’s head, and thrust it deep between her legs. Porsche responded by lapping up all the juices she could as they poured out of Willow. Her tongue pushed softly then more forcefully against Willow’s cunthole. Her hands reached in and parted Willow’s lips, exposing the clit while her practiced tongue flicked out, lifted the hood, and lapped directly on it. Many women can’t handle this direct stimulation, but Willow went wild. Her legs jerked up, her knees nearly level with her chin, as she spread them wide to give Porsche more access.
Porsche’s tongue moved like a battering ram, like a soft blanket, like a little whip against Willow’s exposed clit. Suddenly, Willow’s legs wrapped around Porsche’s head, nearly suffocating Porsche in her pussy as the spasms rocked her from head to toe.
“FUCK ME!” Willow breathed out and again, “FUCKING FUCK MEEEEEE.” She came again and again, each crescendo thought to be the last, followed by another more lasting and vibrant than the previous one. Eventually, the spasms tapered off and Willow finally released Porsche’s head from between her thighs. Porsche’s face was streaked with Willow’s juice. It almost looked as if she’d been crying.
The girls grinned at each other.
Both girls turned to Sophia, who sat staring from her blue chair. They waited expectantly for the next command. Time passed. Sophia jerked. She’d been thinking about Mrs. Pea again and had barely been aware of her subs in their throes of passion.
7
“YES ... WELL ...” SOPHIA BEGAN, but she was at a total loss. “You ... you bore me now. Both of you. Leave. I’ll summon you when I require your presence.”
The girls exchanged a look of bafflement, but both grabbed their things and left without comment.
What the hell is wrong with me? It was a small incident! Smutty and sexy and, really when you think about it, not that big of a deal! Why am I so fixated on it? And why am I so inconsolable at the thought of it not happening again? Good lord. I really have to get a grip.
She went into the bedroom and got out of her things and lay naked on the bed, her hands—left below the right—resting on the center of her chest. Her black hair, worn in a stern longish pageboy fell forward into her eyes. She sighed, strummed her fingers up and down, and sighed again. This obsession was new. She wasn’t quite sure how to rid herself of it.
A good fucking might do the trick, or at least take my mind off old Auntie Pea.
She reached for the phone and hit 6, the speed dial for ...
“Tommy? Hey, there! I know, I know, it’s late, yes. Yes. Too long. You what? Oh, my God! Well, good for you, you deserve it. What? Well, as a matter of fact, that’s why I’m calling ... You can? Yay! I’ll see you then.”
She replaced the receiver, bounced up and off the bed, and strolled into her lushly out-fitted walk-in closet. She chose a red dress covered in sequins. She thought she looked like a red disco ball in it ... or at least that’s what she’d told Edna, but she knew it was one of those dresses that, well, makes people want to tear it off you and fuck you senseless. And that’s exactly what she wanted right now, to be fucked ... and to be fucked senseless.
Maybe Tommy will fuck Mrs. Pea right out of me.
She rummaged around for her red Prada that she always wore with the dress and looked down at her toes. It was Tuesday and pedicures were on Thursdays but that little gal she went to—Jackie? Joanie? Jilly? Jumong? Who could remember?—but anyway she did a fantastic job, and her toes still looked sexy. She probably didn’t even need to go every week except that she loved being pampered, so why not?
Thank God I didn’t go with that weird purple Jackiejoaniejillyjumong recommended! This shade matches the red dress perfectly! Underwear? No underwear? Hm ...
She decided to go with a black latex set. It was one of her favorites; she was amazed by how thin the latex was. The bra had tight little circles cut out for her nipples ... not the areolas ... just the nips. She fucking loved that! And the panties had a discreet little slit for her clit and another for her pink smile. She put them on and looked in the mirror.
“Fucking awesome! I am fucking awesome!” she murmured.
She’d often been told she could be a Victoria’s Secret Model. She was 5’10”, most of that leg, with a flat stomach she didn’t have to work for, nice 38C titties and an ass just this side of JLo’s. Her nipples were dark pink, nearly brown. She’d laid a half dollar on her breast once and it had exactly covered her areola. She’d wanted to Facebook that to all her friends—she was so proud of the fact—but of course she hadn’t. She was well known in certain circles, but also very private. She had to be in order to pursue her love of the scene.
She’d been introduced to BDSM as a teenager by the woman next door. Her mother had said, “Sophia, you know, Mrs. Jarmon is a real Susie Homemaker. You could learn a lot from her about keeping house and baking—Lord knows I don’t excel in those areas—thank God for Maria!” Oh, she’d learned a lot from her neighbor, that was true, but it wasn’t so much baking as when to use a paddle and when to use a whip, when to wear leather and when to wear rubber, and how to become comfortable in a ball gag for extended periods of time. Sophia quickly decided that she wanted to be a domme, but Mrs. Jarmon had insisted she learn all there was to know about being a sub first so she would understand her own future subs fully and be able to get the most enjoyment out of each and every session.
The first whipping she’d received from Mrs. Jarmon, she’d come so hard she’d soaked her shorts as well as her panties and had had to tie her sweatshirt around her waist to walk over to her own house. Her mother had been hosting her bridge group there and Sophia had to stop in the living room and exchange pleasantries with the nosy Mrs. Aman, the plump Mrs. DiFilipi, and the sharp Mrs. Gatens (who seemed like she was on to something), all the while feeling both the heat of the whipping she’d received and the wetness between her legs. When she felt a droplet coursing down her thigh, she made a quick retreat to her room and was scolded later by her mother for being rude. She couldn’t remember how she’d hidden the marks from all the whippings she’d received. But then again, her mother was much more attentive to bridge and a highball than to Sophia and her comings and goings.
Sophia had surprised herself by getting so excited when being punished and had asked Mrs. Jarmon if maybe she was a submissive after all. But Mrs. Jarmon had just smiled and replied, “Oh, silly! Everyone enjoys a good beating now and then!” and had handed her a chocolate chip cookie.
Sophia slipped the red dress on over the rubber ensemble and wrestled into the red Pradas, not the most comfortable shoes in the world, but Birkenstocks just weren’t in her repertoire. She ran a little CherryCherry lipstick over her lips, quickly lined her eyes, grabbed her clutch, and headed for the door.
She met Tommy at a bar near Sixth Street. Tommy had been one of Sophia’s co-workers when they both worked for that behemoth software company near Seattle. Both had gotten in at the right time, made a nice fat chunk of change, and gotten out in order to find something both felt was a bit more interesting than writing code. Tommy had found paragliding. She now traveled the world leaping off the sides of cliffs and flying off into space screaming, “AAaaaiiieeeeeee!” each and every time. She was also a stunningly big beautiful bald black woman with a penchant for strap-ons, very large strap-ons that she wielded with enthusiasm. A former collegiate sprinter, she had the stereotypical sprinter’s high ass which Sophia, every once in a blue moon, also loved to pleasure. But usually they got together so Tommy could ram and ram and ram at Sophia and Sophia could be rammed and rammed and rammed. They were a great fuckbuddy team.
She saw Tommy at the far end of the bar and met her gaze. Tommy had on black jeans, a black T-shirt with a giant skeleton hand-inked on the front, a ring on one of its bony fingers, and a pair of black short boots. She gave her a smile and a little tilt of the head. “Hellooooo, Gorgeous!” Tommy murmured into her ear as they embraced. “You want a festive alcoholic beverage or you want to get right down to fuckin’?”
“Fuck me.”
They left the bar, hopped into Tommy’s silver Audi, and drove the four blocks to her place. She lived in an old 1930’s building that still had that whiff of cocktails and mink coats. Once inside, Sophia noticed the new dark blue leather Jeffrey Bernett sofa and ivory leather Womb Chair. The walls were bare save for two prints: a thirty-dollar Nayoun Kim print Tommy found on Society6.com and a Picasso. A real Picasso.
“You’ve redone the place ... I see the art hasn’t changed.”
“Back off the art, sister.”
They moved directly to the bedroom where Tommy had a black leather and stainless steel sling set up at just the right height. She turned to Sophia and peeled off her dress with one hand, pulling her head back with the other and covering her mouth with her own. The first touch of tongues was electric, sending a shiver through their bodies and making them push deeper. Their tongues dueled inside Sophia’s mouth. Tommy pulled away and took her jeans off. She folded them and put them over a chair, then her shirt. Her lace bra and panties she took off and deposited in the rattan hamper in the corner of the room. Yes, she was still the tidy bitch she always was when they got together. Sophia loved this about Tommy. Engulfed in passion, she still had to put her blazer on a hanger.
Tommy turned to Sophia and lifted her up, finding her nipple with her luscious mouth. She suckled softly, letting the nip pop in and out and recapturing it over and over again. She licked and was torn between getting Sophia out of the bra to have more access to her entire breast and being driven crazy by that little pink nip sticking out of that sea of black rubber. She decided she liked being driven crazy. Her hands wandered south and caressed Sophia’s fabulous latex-covered ass. She found the tiny asshole opening and rubbed her knuckle back and forth over it. Sophia moaned. Tommy toppled her into the sling.
Legs parted crookedly, Sophia watched as Tommy went to a drawer, opened it and removed a large blue cock and a leather and spandex harness. She stepped into it, fastening the harness tightly around her ample thighs and waist, as she strode back over to Sophia. The cock looked like one of those mini bats they hand out at baseball games. After slathering on some lube, she laid it between Sophia’s legs without ceremony. The slit in the rubber panties parted to reveal that beautiful raw beef look of Sophia’s cunt. Tommy rubbed the slick head of the dick back and forth through the folds of her lips.
“Oh, yeah. That’s the spot. Mmmm. That. Is. The. Spot.”
Tommy began to push and rock and her cock began sliding into Sophia inch-by-inch.
“Tommy, just slam me, honey, slam into me now. I can’t wait.”
Tommy eased her cock out, then shoved it home.
“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!” Sophia cried out. “Jesusgod, you are good!”
Tommy pushed again and Sophia cried out again. They hit a rhythm, Tommy untiring and Sophia opening to the giant cock assaulting her. She felt the wave begin near the top of her head and crash all the way down her body, sending tremors cascading over her, jerking her like a marionette as she came. Tommy began shaking slightly as she pushed, then more intensely as she, too, felt herself coming. “Coming. NOW. OH, SHIT! COMING NOW, GIRL! COMING NOW! Aaaaaiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
Tommy sucked in her breath, jerked her hips a few times more, then added her trademark move: a sort of careening jostle-twist that never failed to make her come again.
“Aaaaaiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
And again…
“Aaaaaiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
And again…
“Aaaaaiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeee-ee-ee!”
Sophia tumbled out of the sling, wiped between her legs with a plush gray towel from the bathroom, lifted the little red sequined number over her head, and let it fall down around her.
“How much did you pay for that sling? Whatever it was, it was too much, unless you learn to use it more properly.”
“Money is no object,” Tommy replied.
8
WILLOW WAS RUNNING LATE.
Fuck it. Fuck them! she thought as she scurried along the sidewalk as fast as she could in her four-inch Jeffrey Campbells. She was already late for work, but she still turned and yanked the door of the Starbuck’s open and strode in. She got in line. “Fuuuucck. A line,” she said under her breath. She rummaged in her purse for a twenty as she finally approached the front of the line and said automatically, “Double macchiato with whip. Cheese Danish,” found the twenty, pulled it out and looked up right into the eyes of Porsche.
“May I ... ” Porsche’s eyes widened. “Oh, shiiit.”
“Double macchiato with whip and a cheese Danish,” Willow said again a
nd smirked. But she was glad to see Porsche—or maybe just glad to see Porsche behind the counter of a Starbuck’s slinging coffee and pastries. She wasn’t sure.
Porsche called out the coffee order, rang it up, and took Willow’s twenty. Silently, she counted out the change. She went to the case and returned with a small paper bag containing—not one, but two—cheese Danish. Willow took the bag and went over to wait for the coffee.
“I’m taking a ten minute break,” Porsche told her manager and ran from behind the counter to catch Willow who was heading for the door.
“Hey!”
“Hey.”
“So, my secret’s out—I have a shitty job,” Porsche said lamely.
“My apartment’s around the corner from here,” Willow said. “I have to go to work ... but on my way home why don’t I stop by and fetch you and we can go have a glass of wine and discuss ... oh, how good I am at making you come or the pros and cons of being a sub ... or something.”
Porsche smiled and nodded. She grabbed Willow’s hand and wrote her number on it with her Starbuck’s pen. “I might get fired today ... you never know with me. So, call and I’ll meet you out front.”
Willow was super late now and she bit her lip as she tried trotting in her ridiculously high shoes.
I really should get sensible shoes like the other attorneys ... Screw that. Who wants to show up in court in Easystride?
“You’re late,” her assistant, Pearl, began, “but you are also blessed with great luck. Your court appearance got postponed. And why are we late? Oh, Starbuck’s, that’s why we are late. I see. No, it’s understandable. We only have a Breville right here at the office. We only have half-and-half and full and 2% and 1% and almond milk in the fridge. And real whipped cream in one of those cool aluminum pressurized canisters ... remember Christmas?”
