Teena Thyme (Teena Thyme - Erotic Time Traveller)

by Jennifer Jane Pope

  Anne-Marie dropped to her knees, her face pressing into my mound, her tongue replacing her finger. I reached down, grasping the top of her head and pressed her even harder against me. She made a small sound, somewhere between a grunt and a mewling and her tongue - so unbelievably long - penetrated me like a hot, wet, rasping penis.

  My back arched and I came, instantly, my reflex being to try to detach myself from her mouth, but Anne-Marie had reached behind me, grasping my buttocks tightly and now it was she who was maintaining our contact. I felt her mouth opening wider, then closing, sucking, drawing my distended clitoris between her lips, while at the same time drinking eagerly of my juices, and it was about then that I must have passed out, lights flashing, rocket engines roaring in my ears, a black curtain rising up before me.

  I came round on the long sofa, to find Anne-Marie standing over me and, when I struggled to sit up I discovered, to my astonishment, that my wrists had been secured behind me by some sort of cuffs. I tugged against them and realised they were either leather or some other tough fabric, rather than the metal of ordinary handcuffs.

  'Wh-what are you doing?' I squeaked. Anne-Marie stooped before me and looked into my eyes. I saw she was smiling and that the smile reached beyond her mouth, but this was scary and not what I'd expected.

  'If you really want me to,' she said, holding up a tiny silver key, 'I'll take the cuffs off you, but it's only a game.'

  'A game?'

  'Yes, a game,' she repeated. 'I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, nor anyone else for that matter, but I sort of sensed something.'

  'In me?'

  She nodded. 'Yes, in you. Have you ever played bondage games before?' I felt the colour in my face deepen and I lowered my eyes. 'That's okay, you don't have to say anything. We all have our secrets and loads of people like their sex a bit kinky.'

  A bit kinky? Bondage games? If only I could have told her, but then who would believe me anyway? I felt one finger circling my right nipple and I looked up at her again.

  'You see,' she went on, her voice little more than a whisper, 'now you're my prisoner for the night - my slave, actually. I may choose to spank you, I may choose to tickle you. I may even put you out in the garden for a while - no don't worry,' she added hastily, seeing the sudden alarm in my face, 'the garden has high hedges all around and isn't overlooked. It wouldn't do to have the neighbours phoning daddy to tell him I've got near naked girls on his precious lawn, would it?'

  She helped me to my feet, still shod in those ridiculous gold sandals, and then produced another set of leather cuffs, which she proceeded to lock about my ankles, so that the chain between the two restricted my step to only a few inches; not that I could have taken a much longer stride without this hobble, for these heels were not meant for marching about in anyway.

  'Now my little Teena slave,' she said. 'Time for you to pay for being such a terribly bad and rude girl, I think.' She grasped one of the bra cups, turned it over and down and her left breast flowed into view like a small tidal wave, its huge nipple a strangely unnatural red colour. 'Suck my lovely teat, Teenie girl,' she chuckled, offering it to my mouth with one hand, while her other hand closed about the back of my neck and pulled my head down.

  I was forced to bend my knees, adding still further to my feeling of imbalance, but I did as she instructed, sucking gently on the nipple until it filled my mouth, the sweet strawberry taste betraying where it had got its bright colouring. She left me to suckle for a minute or so and then transferred me to the other breast. Nothing was said and the two of us stood there for several minutes, me with my hands cuffed and useless behind me, she holding my hair gently and moving my mouth periodically from one nipple to the other.

  'Beautiful,' she said at last, drawing me upright again. 'Such a beautiful mouth and so, so soft. She held me close, her exposed breasts crushed beneath my own, her mouth running softly up and down my right upper arm.

  'Tell me,' I heard her say, 'have you ever eaten another girl's pussy?' It took me a couple of attempts to speak, for my mouth and throat had gone suddenly very dry. I shook my head.

  'N-no,' I said huskily. She continued to kiss and lick my arm.

  'Have you ever wanted to?'

  'No, I don't think so.' Was that an honest answer? Somehow I no longer knew.

  'Do you want to now?'

  'I'm your slave,' I whispered. 'Do I have a choice?' Anne-Marie looked up and stepped back and I saw her eyes were shining.

  'No,' she said, smiling broadly. 'No, you don't.' She turned away, opened a drawer in the nearby bureau and took something out. As she turned back I saw it was a leather dog collar with a chain leash attached to it. A moment later it had been buckled around my neck. She gave it a light, almost experimental tug.

  'Come on then,' she said, nodding towards the door. 'Now you're properly leashed like a good little bitch, I think it's time for you to learn to eat pussy.'

  19.

  I suppose I could draw a discreet veil over what happened next, or pretend that was it, that Anne-Marie stopped, laughed, released me and we just curled up together with the rest of the Bacardi. It was, after all, only a game, albeit a sexual one. However, I think we both know, dear reader, that this was only the beginning and I shall not disappoint you any more than I was allowed to be disappointed myself that weekend.

  Anne-Marie's bedroom was not the one in which I had earlier changed. That, apparently, was one of the guestrooms, while hers was one of three rooms plus a bathroom, sitting high above in what had once, apparently, been a loft space, but which had since been turned into a self-contained suite for her sole use. As I entered the bedroom itself, following obediently on my leash, it struck me that I had been turned into some sort of sweet for her use in similar fashion.

  The room was gothic in the extreme and I wondered whether her indulgent father ever ventured up this far when he was at home. The walls, curtains, ceiling, even the bed linen was black, the only break in this being the red tracery pattern in the otherwise black carpet and the furniture, which was painted blood red, but with black relief. Illuminated by red bulbs in the ceiling fitting and two wall fittings, the room was both eerie and warm in its atmosphere, a weird paradox which should, perhaps, have told me something about my own psyche.

  'Do you like it, my darling?' Anne-Marie cooed, turning to look into my eyes.

  I nodded. 'Yes, it's um, very...'

  She smiled. 'Yes, isn't it?' she giggled. 'And so are you.' She drew close to me and took my breasts in her hands, all the while leaving the leash looped about her wrist. I closed my eyes as she kneaded my soft flesh, listening to my heart as it thumped against my ribcage and sent echoing resonances up into my confused head.

  I felt helpless, owned, subjugated and yet... I felt safe, wanted, desired and very desirable. That inexplicable mixture of feelings - lust, fear, desire, need - that I had first experienced at the hands of Hacklebury and his cohorts had returned with a vengeance, except that this time the fear was not for my safety, but for whatever it was I thought I might be turning into.

  'Kneel.' She gave the command quietly and without a trace of harshness, but I found myself dropping to my knees on the soft carpet, not even the slightest thought of rebellion entering my head. Anne-Marie stood before me, her crotch in line with my eyes, her odour filling my nostrils, but she was not yet ready for me to pay her the ultimate homage. Her hands toyed with my hair and I heard her making little tut-tutting noises in her throat.

  'Too short,' she whispered. I looked up at her and she smiled down at me, encouragingly. 'Your hair,' she explained, softly. 'It's far too short for a proper slave, unless you want me to shave it all off, the way they used to do with Nubian slaves.' I shook my head in sudden panic.

  'N-no!' I exclaimed, startled. How the hell would I explain that one away? 'No, please. Please don't do that!' Her smile widened and she shook her head.

  'Of course I shan't, silly,' she said. 'Not your head, anyway. Now, just stay there and let's see what
we have in the closet.' Yes, there was an inference there that I missed, I know, but I was so relieved that she wasn't going to mess around with my head hair that it's hardly surprising and, when the ultimate moment did arrive shortly after, there was no arguing anyway, so utterly was I under her spell.

  The wig looked as if it had come straight off the set of Cleopatra; black, thick and styled so perfectly severely and, as Anne-Marie placed it on my head and brushed it lightly into position, I felt those little tingly inner fingers at work again. Still she was not satisfied, however, and several minutes of careful attention to my eyes ensued. Finally, she removed my own gold studs and replaced them with two heavy pendants, which swung lazily with even the slightest motion of my head.

  'Can I see?' I asked, looking around for a mirror. A long curtain against an otherwise blank section of wall indicated that one might be hiding there, but Anne-Marie was not yet ready to show me my new self. First came the promised attention to detail I had missed before and she began by cutting through the thin elasticated waistband of my panties and drawing them from me, tossing away their ruined remains without the slightest concern for the cost of what she had just wasted.

  'Come,' she said, tugging gently on my leash. I rose awkwardly and followed her back out of the room and into the bathroom, where she backed me up against a long towel rail and looped my leash behind me, through my wrist chain and around the stainless steel bar. Still I hadn't realised what she was intending, but the can of foam and the new razor she took from the packet on the window ledge quickly put me right. I opened my eyes wide in alarm.

  'You can't,' I gasped. Her smile never wavered, but her voice was firm.

  'Of course I can,' she replied. 'You are my slave, Teenie darling, and I can do anything with you that will not cause you any real or permanent harm. Those are the rules.'

  'What rules?' I blurted out. 'Whose rules?' Still she smiled, advancing on me with the nozzle of the can aimed at the appropriate target at the apex formed by my thighs.

  'You'll find out, eventually,' she said, 'assuming you still want to.' She depressed the top of the can and foam bubbled out onto my pubic area. I cringed, but the wall at my back prevented further retreat. 'You see,' she continued, stooping down to massage the creamy cloud into me, 'there are rules concerning mistresses and slaves and, unless you sign a proper pact, I can only do those things to you which are temporary.

  'Like this,' she continued, switching the safety razor to her right hand. 'I suppose I could also shave your head, as that will grow back again, but I shan't, not unless you decide you want me to some day. However, ringing your nipples, ringing your labia, your clit of course, even your nose - for those I must have your agreement, you see?'

  'Yes.' Except that I didn't see at all, for she was talking about stuff I'd never even imagined - well, yes, I probably had imagined them, or at least something similar, but I'd never imagined them happening to me, at least not in real life.

  Only this somehow no longer felt like real life.

  It took her about five minutes and I all but held my breath throughout, especially when that keen little blade came close to my swollen pussy lips. Anne-Marie, however, had a steady hand and I guessed - correctly as it transpired - that mine was not the first quim she had treated in this way.

  'There!' she exclaimed, standing up and reaching for a soft damp cloth to clean the vestiges of soap away. 'That wasn't so bad, was it? So much nicer without that little beard to get in the way.' She bent with the cloth and I felt as if she was polishing my newly denuded mound, so precise were her ministrations. I forced myself to look down, at that baby smooth area that now felt so naked, so cold and exposed, and yet so damned sexy.

  'Thank you, mistress.' I couldn't believe I'd said that, but somehow it seemed so very natural. 'Thank you for shaving your slave's pussy.' Little lines came back to me, lines I had read in books I shouldn't have even known about, lines that had seemed so stilted, farcical and laughable as I'd encountered them on the page. They didn't seem so farcical now. The blood in my temples was pounding.

  'And now you are ready,' Anne-Marie declared, wiping her fingers and reaching behind me to free the leash from the towel rail. 'Come on and see your new self.'

  The mirror was taller than I and, when she drew the curtain aside I simply stood there, mesmerised. My tall, well toned frame looked as good as it always did, but far better, too, with its adornments and accessories. The cincher gave me a far more curved appearance than usual, as I already knew, but that wig, those heavy earrings and those blue and gold eyelids with their heavy black linings made me look like a completely different person.

  I looked every inch the slave princess and my shaven pussy and my collar and leash simply added to that humbling status, yet without detracting from the grandeur of a posture made grander by my steepling heels. I had never considered myself plain, it was true, but never before, not until this moment, had I understood how beautiful I could be made to look. Any man confronted with the sight I now presented would have burst through his fly, I knew, for I was simply desirable and, thanks to my chains, also very available.

  Only, as I finally tore myself away from my reflection and broke the narcissistic spell, I knew I had not been made thus for the benefit of any man, nor any flesh and blood cock. This gentle-seeming young woman from the public library had made me her slave and made that slave in the image I now was for her own enjoyment. Like it or not, this Egyptian jewel was now, for the time being at least, a lesbian princess and she was about to learn how to worship at the altar of her High Priestess and mistress.

  'Are you ready to thank your mistress properly?' I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Anne-Marie fingered my nipples gently: they were hard and thrusting and even the slightest contact sent the currents fizzing along the ring mains of my nervous system. She smiled and shook her head.

  'Not quite ready, I think,' she whispered, and turned away to the red and black chest beside the curtained window. She opened the top drawer and I heard sounds of metallic chinking. 'These should do,' she said, turning back towards me. I stared hard at what she was showing me, but did not understand what they were, at least not until she closed the first little serrated ring about my left nipple.

  I let out a little whimper as the tiny teeth gripped the base of my thrusting cone, but what little pain there actually was quickly gave way to a different sensation and as the heavy little gold bell pulled down against my skin I very nearly climaxed on the spot. A moment or so later and the right nipple had been similarly attended to.

  'Shake your shoulders.' I did so and, as my boobs swayed and jiggled, the two little bells set up a merry little tune between them. 'Slave bells,' Anne-Marie laughed. 'Now you will tinkle with almost every move you make and your slave bells will remind you that you are owned and not free. At least,' she added, grinning mischievously, 'not free until Monday morning, which is a good thirty odd hours away yet!'

  I stood there, breathing rapidly and shallowly - the waist cincher, like its predecessor Victorian corsets, left me little choice in that matter - and considered what she had just said. Thirty odd hours, nearly thirty-six, probably, depending upon what time she intended leaving for work come Monday morning. I'd been thinking in terms of an hour or two, three maybe, overnight at the most, but now I was faced with the prospect of a full day as her slave, followed by a second night.

  'You don't have to,' she whispered, flicking my right nipple bell gently. It seemed Anne-Marie could sense almost everything I was thinking. 'You can leave any time you like, you know that really, don't you?'

  'Looking like this?' I tried to lighten the moment. Anne-Marie arched her eyebrows.

  'Hmmm, well,' she said slowly, 'it might be an interesting thought, but the neighbours would play hell with daddy when he gets back.' She laughed and this time flicked both bells. My nipples felt as if they were throbbing now. 'No, silly, if you want to leave, then you can leave as you arrived here and I'll drive you home.

  'Ho
wever, I think I should be rewarded for all the trouble I've gone to first, don't you?' She scooped up my leash and began backing away towards the side of the bed, tugging me in her wake.

  'And what happens if I stay?' I asked. I suspected this might be somewhere close to some sort of point of no return and I wasn't quite sure if I was ready to cross this particular Rubicon. Anne-Marie pursed her lips and then formed them into a little moue.

  'Well, I think we should agree some basic ground rules, don't you?' she said evenly. 'It's for your benefit and enjoyment as well. Basically, if you stay tonight then you're agreeing to stay until Monday morning and, in the meantime, you are my slave and what I say goes.

  'However,' she said, pausing to take as deep a breath as her own corset would permit, 'you get a safe word to use, just in case anything that happens isn't to your liking, or perhaps goes too far, okay?'

  'Okay,' I agreed, carefully. 'And if I use the safe word, what happens then? I suppose you just tell me to clear out.' Anne-Marie shook her head.

  'Not a bit of it,' she said. 'If you feel you need to use the word, then we just stop and reflect a bit, decide what it was that... well, you know what I mean.'

  'Yes,' I confirmed. 'I know what you mean. Mistress,' I added somewhat belatedly, and she smiled again.

  'Good,' she said. 'And now we've got that out of the way, come here and let's see what you can do with that sweet mouth.' She tugged on the leash again, but I held back, protesting.

  'The word,' I whispered. 'What's my word?'

  Anne-Marie began giggling. 'Chastity,' she said, as she dragged me down to my knees. 'It's about the only time you'll ever here that word in this house.' She slid back so that she was sitting, legs apart, on the edge of the bed, then dropped the leash and began fiddling with something at her hip. A moment later two ends of a tie came apart and she quickly repeated the procedure on her other hip. Then, raising herself slightly, she tugged and her panties came clean away in her hand, to be sent fluttering over the end of the bed.