Put Me In a Skirt and Hurt Me: The Strictly Lesbian Adventures of Mistress Sophia

by Bryce, A. L.

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the only thing scarier to you than becoming somebody’s sub.”

  “Which is?”

  “I don’t know…maybe…love.”

  “Love!” Sophia snorted, and the two of them laughed.

  Tommy left, blowing Sophia a kiss at the door.

  Sophia asked the barmaid for a club soda, studying the young woman’s tattooed arms and noting a small stud in her nose, barely visible, in the dim light of the bar.

  When the soda came, and she tried to pay, the girl said, “It’s on the house—all your drinks, always. You come here and I’m working, you drink for free. I know who you are, Mistress, and I am at your service.”

  Sophia looked into the girl’s eyes until the girl looked down.

  “You’re dismissed.”

  Sophia covered her mouth to hide the smile that blossomed there, and coughed.

  What a very pleasant surprise!

  When Sophia returned home, she decided it was time for Willow to return. She hit the speed dial and left instructions before climbing into bed.

  She lay there thinking about Edna and Tommy. It was rare for both to be gone at the same time. She’d miss them, but she was Mistress Sophia. A few friends out of town weren’t going to put a hitch in her giddy-up!

  Mistress Sophia burst into tears.

  32

  PORSCHE AND VERONICA sprawled in their T-shirts and panties on the king-size bed in the master bedroom while Betty was out buying groceries.

  “She sure loses the rock, paper, scissors game a lot,” Porsche observed.

  “She always throws a rock.” Veronica replied. “I could win every time if I wanted to.”

  Porsche smiled.

  “Get your ass over here. I want to feel your fingers in me.”

  Porsche scooted closer, her fingers playing “in and out” along the seams of Veronica’s panties.

  Veronica lifted her ass off the bed and pulled off her panties. She twirled them on her finger then grabbed one end of the elastic and sling-shotted the pair across the room. She lifted her ass higher and spread her legs wider.

  Porsche swung around in front of Veronica’s display. She looked down at Veronica’s beaver and felt her own pussy tighten.

  “You do have a tasty twat.”

  Porsche licked Veronica’s pussy very very softly, barely touching her flesh. The hairs on Veronica’s arm rose up and her spine tingled as Porsche went to work.

  Porsche swirled her tongue around and over Veronica’s lips, lapping up the juices gathering there. She made her tongue a little sword and darted it around, pressing and poking with skill. Porsche cupped an ass cheek with one hand, the other stroking soft pussy hairs and gently pulling the lips apart, making Veronica writhe. Porsche kept sliding over the lips with her tongue, pressing the lips together, licking across and in between them, then separating them again, exposing that beautiful clitoris and again teasing it with licks and nibbles so close, so very close but not there, not there.

  Teasing.

  Driving Veronica wild.

  “Al, please, baby. Oh, Al…”

  “Are you ready for me? Are you ready to be fucked? Do you want me to take your clit in my mouth? Do you want me to suck on your clit? Rub it? Lick it?”

  “Yes! Now, please, nownownow.”

  Porsche took the clit in her teeth very, very gently and wrapped her lips around it. Then she pushed two fingers into Veronica’s pussy and began to scissor them back and forth, her mind briefly filled with the image of the three of them playing rock paper scissors as her fingers moved back and forth.

  Veronica moaned. “Oh, yeah, Oh, yeah!” Her hips moved back and forth. Porsche quit scissoring, pulled her fingers out all the way, then plunged in again as deep as she could. She vibrated her hand and licked, her tongue flat against the clit. Long strokes, long beautiful strokes, until she felt the quaking begin. Veronica shuddered and muttered and moaned for a very long time before falling back exhausted against her pillow. She held out her arms, and Porsche fell into them.

  “I’ll do you ... in a minute ... ”

  “Later, baby. You can do me later. Just enjoy yourself now.” And to Porsche’s surprise, she realized she meant it and that, for once, she, Porsche DeSaint, didn’t have an ulterior motive.

  When Betty came home, she found the two still on the bed spooning against each other, Porsche’s hand wrapped around one of Veronica’s breasts, the dragon’s head peeking up over her thumb, Veronica snoring gently. She put away the groceries, then went back into the bedroom, climbed in behind Porsche and spooned up against her, wondering if life could get any better than this.

  33

  MISTRESS SOPHIA AND WILLOW were at Sophia’s. A set of hog-tie X bars were positioned on the bed. Sophia had purchased the X bars years ago from an artist specializing in bondage tools. This one was fourteen inches long, two semi circles welded together in the center to form a lovely X. She loved to see Willow, left hand bound to right foot and right to left. The device displayed her beautifully.

  Willow knelt next to them and Sophia began strapping in first one ankle and then the other.

  “Give me your wrists.”

  Willow’s hands came back behind her and Sophia strapped the right wrist to the left ankle bar and the left wrist to the right ankle bar. Sophia stepped back. Willow looked up at her from her kneeling position, already close to coming—these types of bondage devices just did that to the poor girl.

  Sophia strode over to the dresser and took a red long stemmed rose out of a milky white vase. She brought the rose over to Willow and began caressing her with the opened bloom, the silky feel of the rose raising goose bumps on Willow’s arms, legs, and breasts.

  Mistress Sophia raised the rose and brought it down onto Willow’s shoulder blade. She raised it again and brought it down against her back. She continued languidly whipping Willow with the rose until it began to drop its petals onto the floor. When the rose had lost all its petals Mistress Sophia began to strike a bit harder aiming for the fleshy bits.

  Whack, whack, whack. The stem came down over and over, Willow feeling it, tingling slightly from it. After a series of passes, she leaned down next to Willow and whispered into her ear, “Some harder ones now and then some really hard ones, ones with the bite of thorns.” In response, Willow sucked in her breath.

  “Oh, we need something under you for this ... ” Sophia brought a big black pleather-upholstered foam wedge and arranged it in front of Willow, then gently leaned the girl forward into it.

  She picked up the rose stem and struck, once, twice, three times on the meaty flesh of Willow’s ass, three times on her inner thighs, three more on the backs of her upper arms, in and around the X of the hog tie bars. Then, as promised, the next swat landed on her ass and she felt a thorn bite—a lovely nibble from the rose. More followed until her ass and thighs were covered with tiny pinpricks of blood and a scattering of tiny welts.

  Willow’s pussy was dripping so fiercely, a small puddle had formed beneath her. Mistress Sophia took the stem and very gently pulled it across Willow’s cunt lips. They were so slick, the stem glided through smoothly, a thorn only catching twice—and with just a pinch of pain.

  The next thing Willow felt was her mistress’s mouth on her pussy, lapping at her, drilling her, her mistress’s teeth tugging oh-so-softly on her pussy and her ass cheeks. The exquisite sensation of teeth and tongue and hot breath on her, all over her, her arms and legs immobilized in the restraints.

  Willow allowed her lover full access and total permission to do with her as she pleased, trusting in Mistress Sophia to treat her with the perfect blend of pain and pleasure, just the right level of sensation to blow her mind.

  No one has ever made love to me like Mistress Sophia. She searched her mind for words ... exquisite, fantastic, sensational, amazing ... They all seemed so pale, so small ...

  Words were unable to encompass the feelings that welled in her whenever Sophia stra
pped her into restraints, put her in a ball gag, blindfolded her, tied her to the bed, used the spreader bar on her, inserted dildos inside her waiting cunt and ass, caressed and then beat her with a flogger, a paddle, her hand.

  Oh, her hands! On me, in me ... from the front, from behind, massaging, squeezing, pinching, pulling, grabbing, tickling, flicking, rubbing ... and her mouth ... everywhere ... in me ... our tongues twisting and dancing around each other, Sophia’s tongue darting into my ear, teasing my asshole, diving in, twirling around in my pussy, lapping, sucking, nipping, my lips swelling with the touch ...

  And now, now, briefly, the stem caressed her ass and her pussy, and then Sophia’s hand was on her and in her, her other hand on her waist, guiding her gently back and forth as her fingers worked her, the stem of the rose resting on her back. Willow’s breathing came faster as Sophia’s skilled fingers found her G-spot and massaged, came out and in again, and out and in again, lathering her up. Willow’s pussy clenched at the fingers, pulling them deeper inside her, then releasing so her hole opened wider, so she could be filled up, stuffed. Sophia’s mouth assaulted her asshole now, and Willow opened here too, wanting to accept that darting tongue, Sophia’s thumb, her finger, a butt plug or dildo. Whatever her mistress deemed she needed, she deserved, filling her up so full, raising the tension in her body until she thrummed with it, going up, up, she couldn’t go any further ... but no, the fingers working, the tongue flicking. Her ass, her lips, her tits so responsive, thrumming harder, harder ... up, up, up ...

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” Willow sobbed, nearly in a panic from the intensity, yet wanting it to continue for as long as possible—this sweet, sweet space, this entire world of sensation. Up ... up ... until, finally, she simply could take no more and waves of that indescribable flood cascaded over her, over her, over her. And her brain was mush. Everything was absent then. The great white nothing—or was it black?

  Sophia unbuckled the restraints. Willow’s body lay still for so long that Sophia bent down to make sure she was still breathing. Then she went over to the other side of the bed and lay next to the prostrate girl. Looking at her lying there—Willow’s face, hidden by a fan of her hair, just the tip of her nose peeking out, her shoulders looking so delicate, so vulnerable, her limbs, a jumble, lying where they fell when Sophia removed the bars—Sophia felt a rush of affection.

  Is this love?

  Willow stirred and turned. Sophia reached out and stroked Willow’s hair and her cheek. Willow’s eyes were glassy and her mouth hung slack.

  “You just destroyed me ... you totally annihilated me.” Then Willow rose up and threw her arms around Sophia. “Thank you! Thank you!”

  Sophia hugged Willow back, the game totally abandoned, as she pulled the girl to her, holding her tightly, wanting to hold her tightly like this for a very long time. She smelled the girl’s hair against her face, inhaling the fragrance of honey and lily she had come to know and love. She pulled back and stroked Willow’s cheek, giving it an affectionate pinch, then pulled her close again.

  “Would you like to go to Paris?” she whispered into Willow’s ear.

  END