by Ella Ford
I’d just broken up with Josh. Yet another in a long line of failed relationships. He’d seemed cool at first, more mature than the guys I normally dated. He had a job, a car and didn’t live with his parents. He even held the door open for me when we went out on dates. I genuinely thought that Josh might have been the one. But, after a few months, I found that I was calling him more than he was calling me. He became shifty and evasive, always seemed as though he was hiding something from me. And the sex, once so fresh and exciting, had become humdrum and boring, a frantic race to climax for him, then a sticky wet patch and a feeling of numb dissatisfaction for me. I swear, I used my dildo twice as much when I was with Josh than I did when I was single!
Then, one night, he came right out and told me. He’d been seeing his receptionist Mandi behind my back. This had been going on for a whole month, fully half of the length of our relationship! And then he had the temerity to suggest that he continue to see me, but that we have an open relationship. “Maybe,” he’d added with a sly wink, “Mandi could join us one time.”
It had been all I could do to control the furious rage that boiled inside myself. Angry at Josh and his airhead Mandi, but mostly angry at myself for allowing myself to be suckered by yet another limp dick cretin with a nice smile and a fat wallet. How dumb could one girl be?
“Listen sweetie,” said Karen, reversing her hand so that she now held mine tenderly. “I know you’ve been through a tough time lately, what with Josh, and Pete before him, and Sam before him …”
I nodded, feeling myself tearing up at the thought of all the wasted time. I sobbed a little, then sniffed. “I just thought it was maybe time to try something different. If all the problems I have are with men, then why don’t I just get rid of men altogether? Surely girls know what girls need, it seems like such a simple life.”
Karen smiled back at me. “Try negotiating your way round an unfamiliar pussy, then tell me that it’s a simple life honey,” she quipped and we both laughed together.
We fell silent, staring down at our coffees and enjoying the relative quiet of the downtown diner. I realized that I was clutching at straws, reaching out for some sense of stability after a traumatic series of breakups that had left me reeling. Maybe Karen was right. Maybe women weren’t the answer, maybe I just needed time to myself.
Suddenly, Karen began to talk again. She sounded apprehensive at first, as though she wasn’t sure if she should be saying what she was saying. “Okay … here’s the thing. I know this woman. She has a huge penthouse downtown, by the dockside. She’s a real classy dame, absolutely filthy rich. Name’s Imelda Something, never bothered to find out her surname if I’m perfectly honest.”
I nodded along, eager to see where she was going with this.
Karen paused and took a sip of her coffee. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” she whispered, half to herself, half to me. Then she continued. “Imelda hosts a monthly party. Strictly women only. It’s pretty big in the local scene, the local dykes know it as ‘The 100 Lesbian Party’ and invites are highly sought after, if you catch my drift.”
“What happens at these parties,” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Karen gave me a withering stare, as though she couldn’t believe I’d asked the question. “Well, honey, when two women love each other a great deal, one woman forces her tongue up the other’s asshole and then they get married,” she joked and we both laughed again. “Seriously though,” she continued, “it’s a sex party. Not for the faint of heart, but maybe a good way to lose your training wheels and see if you really want to kiss goodbye to cock for good.”
My heart was beating fast, and I wasn’t entirely sure what I was getting myself into. “You could get me an invite?”
“Listen, in my line of work, you end up with a lot of people owing you favours. Turns out that Imelda’s niece got herself picked up on a DUI and spent the night downtown. Imelda called me up and I got the local DA to fast track her case so the dumb kid could get bail and get home. Now Imelda owes me one. See?”
I nodded. I knew that Karen’s job as a city lawyer would help me out one day.
“So I reckon I can get you invited to the party next week, if you wanted to go. But … there’s something you should know.” Karen’s face suddenly became serious, her expression filled with a concern that troubled me slightly.
“Go on,” I said, wondering what on earth could be more interesting than being invited to a debauched lesbian sex party by my best friend.
“Well, here’s the thing,” she began, sitting forward in her seat, as though she didn’t want anyone to overhear. “Everyone who attends ‘The 100 Lesbian Party’ has to undergo an initiation on their first night. Helps to make sure everyone is really up for the kind of things that happen there.”
I blinked, wondering what on earth this initiation could be. I’d been in a sorority at college, I knew about hazing and pledges. I’d played my fair share of beer pong and had even run across campus naked with a cucumber clutched between my legs. I felt as though I was able to handle anything that this Imelda threw at me. “What is the initiation?”
Karen shifted in her seat and locked her gaze on me. “Well, at each party, Imelda sets out a ‘centerpiece’ on the dining room table.”
I frowned, not really understanding what Karen was getting at. “What is the centerpiece? Like an ice sculpture or something?”
Karen licked her lips. “No honey, the centerpiece will be you.”
“Me? I don’t understand …”, I replied, suddenly aware of how painfully naive I sounded.
She sighed and continued. “You’ll be strapped down, completely naked, and the guests will use you as they see fit.” She sat back and smiled at me. I wasn’t sure whether her smile was one of mischief or shame. It turns out that the two expressions can seem quite similar.
“I … Did you do this on your first night?” I asked, simultaneously baffled and terrified.
Karen’s eyes glazed over and she sank back into the seat. “Yes. Yes I did. It was … intense.”
I exhaled, attempting to calm my racing thoughts. What was I getting myself into? Was this really what I wanted? But there was something else, something distant and unfamiliar. Underneath the apprehension and reluctance was a feeling of curiosity, a dark need for fulfillment and exploration. After all that I had been through, the countless unsatisfying relationships, the endless breakups and disappointments … after all of that, this crazy and demeaning idea seemed oddly compelling.
“Okay, I’m in, I’ll do it!”
---
I’d barely had time to recover from my first encounter when the door to the dining room swung open and women started to wander through. Some paused by the dinner table to inspect me, lightly caressing my body or dipping their fingers into my exposed pussy lips. Some entered without giving me a second glance; the sight of a naked girl, bound and ready, obviously not fazing them in the slightest.
The women around me began to pair off into conversations, relaxing into the soft leather couches that ringed to rooms or simply standing by the table, sipping extravagant looking drinks and laughing at private jokes.
I found myself beginning to feel uncomfortable. To be so vulnerable and on display, surrounded by these perfect strangers, was a disquieting feeling. I became aware of the cool breeze on my pussy lips, the hardness of my nipples. I felt a pang of shame and embarrassment at my enthusiastic orgasm with the first woman. Did any of these women hear that? Did any of them even care?
“Oh my Blake, won’t you look at this?” I turned my head to the sound of someone talking by the entrance to the room. A tall blonde was standing there, studying me with hungry eyes. The blonde was young, perhaps nineteen or twenty, and had a wonderful figure. She was slender and toned, and wore a tight black dress that plunged low on her chest revealing a heaving cleavage. Her long legs were bare and athletic, tanned like the rest of her to an even golden brown. Her face was childish and sweet, with large blue eye
s and full lips, and her makeup was subtle and refined, accentuating her eyes and her high cheek bones.
As I watched, she was joined by another woman, another blonde. I blinked and did a double-take, convinced I was seeing things. The other woman appeared, at first glance, to be the identical twin of the first girl.
“Oh Brooke,” replied the second girl, “she looks quite delightful. Imelda has truly outdone herself this time!” She giggled and clapped her hands together. The first girl moved beside her and pushed her chest into the newcomer’s upper arm, then leaned forward and whispered something into her ear. They both turned to me and stared, then exploded into fits of giggles.
Standing close together, I could see that they weren’t actually twins, but they clearly intended people to think they were. The wore the same clothes, their hair was arranged in the same way, even their makeup was identical shades of red and smoky grey. But the first girl, Brooke, was slightly taller and appeared the younger of the two. The second girl, Blake, had a more serious face and green eyes, rather than blue.
They whispered something between themselves and stepped over to where I lay. Then the girl called Blake sauntered to the end of the table, and positioned herself between my legs. As I watched, she reached down and placed her hand on my pussy, drawing her fingers through the wetness there. She fixed me with a filthy look and raised her hand to her mouth, then began to suck on her fingertips. I sighed at her touch, my pussy still sensitive after that first encounter.
Suddenly, Brooke kicked off her high heeled shoes and began to climb up onto the table. There was a murmur of approval from the other women in the room, and I became aware of people looking in my direction. I turned my head and found Brooke kneeling on the table beside me. She reached down and stroked my hair, her tender touch almost motherly. She gazed at me with a look that was almost sympathetic, then she bent down and brushed her lips against mine.
I gasped, surprised by the kiss and the effect it had. Her touch was electric, quickening my heartbeat with the subtle taste of her mouth, the warmth of her lips, the sticky sweetness of her lipgloss. I craned my head upwards, desperate for more, desperate for the taste of her tongue, but she sat back and continued to stroke my hair. I squirmed in the restraints, not really sure what I wanted to do, but suddenly eager for more of this girl.
Then I felt Blake’s fingers in my pussy lips once more, deeper this time, more insistent. I sighed as she lightly rubbed my clitoris, pressing down on the sensitive bud and massaging her hand back and forth.
“Oh my goodness Brooke,” said Blake, her accent thick with a valley girl twang, “she’s dripping wet.”
Brooke teased her fingers over my breasts, lingering on my hardening nipples and tweaking them mercilessly. “I know how she feels,” she replied and lightly slapped my breast causing me to moan out loud. The buzz of conversation in the room was becoming louder and I was aware of more and more women crowding into the space. But I didn’t care, my mind was lost in the moment, torn between the skillful manipulation of my sex and the playful toying with my breasts. I found myself hungering for more, an urgent need that flooded upwards out of my pussy and spilled into my body with a fiery warmth.
“Sit on her face Brooke,” said Blake, suddenly adopting a commanding tone that conveyed a degree of hungry urgency.
Brooke smiled at her ‘twin’ and lifted herself up on her knees. Then she swung her leg over my body so that she was straddling my chest with her lower legs over my arms. There was a ripple of applause in the audience and a murmur of approval. I looked up, gazing into Brooke’s face as she stared down at me between her legs. She shuffled her body, wriggling the tight dress upwards until it gathered around her waist, then she dropped her hand between her legs and shifted her black, lace panties aside.
For the first time in my life, I gazed at another woman’s exposed pussy. And, to my eternal surprise, I found that I wanted to taste it more than I wanted anything else at that moment. It was pink and neat, complex folds of flesh that glistened in the dim light and displayed the young girl’s arousal. I could smell it, a rich musk of lust and desire, almost suffocatingly inviting. I longed to lift my head and taste it, but the strap across my chest held me in place and all I could do was stare at it, inches from my face.
Suddenly, I felt something slide into me. I craned my neck, struggling to see what Blake was doing between my legs, but all I could see was Brooke and her waiting lips. I felt my pussy sing as it was stretched open by whatever was being pushed into me. The sense of being filled was immense and I cried out, unable to contain the feeling of pleasure that coursed through my body. Then the direction reversed and I felt the thing leaving me, and I feared it might exit me completely and remove that glorious sensation of completeness. But Blake pushed it in harder, deeper, faster and I screamed out once again.
As Blake worked between my legs, her twin shuffled forwards and I became aware of her closeness. She reached down and gripped my hair, pulling my head upwards into herself. I felt a smothering sensation, an inescapable wetness closing in on my face and an indescribable warmth. I pushed out my tongue, desperate to explore this new geography, guided only by womanly instinct. The taste of her was exquisite, an intoxicating cocktail that fired my senses in every way imaginable.
Between thrusts of the object into my pussy, I began my work. Tentative at first, but steadily gaining in confidence. I lapped at her, long strokes along the length of her labia. I sucked her lips into my mouth, pulling at them, probing with my tongue. Then I began to work on her clitoris, locating the sensitive nub and hesitatingly exploring there. Above me, Brooke shook with every touch. Her grip on my hair tightened and she pulled me in deeper, locking my head between her thighs. I felt out of control, unable to control myself, driven by the desperate need to taste Brooke and the glorious sensation from my own pussy.
But I did not try to resist, did not want to escape. Here, now, strapped to this table, suspended from the ceiling, surrendering myself to these two girls, was all that I wanted in the world. My body sang with ecstasy as the fireball raged in my loins. It drove me forward, compelling me to lick Brooke harder, savoring every sweet thrust into my throbbing pussy.
At once, I sensed a change in Brooke. Her grip on me relaxed slightly and she lifted one hand to her breast, squeezing it firmly. She began to gyrate her hips, grinding her pussy against my face, using my tongue, my chin, my nose. I glanced up at her and found her face lost in ecstasy. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her neck and chest were flushed an angry red and she was moaning uncontrollably. I redoubled my efforts, timing the thrusts of my tongue with the motion of her hips. Faster and faster she moved and she tightened her grip on me again. I sensed that she was close to orgasm and felt an overwhelming need to have her come on my face. Where had these feelings come from? Why did I feel an almost instinctual urge to pleasure this woman? I did not know, did not care, my entire universe consisted only of the constant pounding into my pussy and the motion of this gorgeous young girl on my face.
Suddenly, Brooke’s entire body tensed. I felt her thighs squeeze my head and her pussy lifted away from my mouth. I struggled in vain to find it again, but I was held in place. Then I felt a warm splash on my face as Brooke squirted her orgasm onto me. She screamed out loud, “Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh fuck yes!”, and I felt Blake thrust into me one final time.
And then Brooke relaxed. Her thighs loosened and my head fell to the table with a bump. At once, I felt a presence beside me and looked around to find Blake standing there. As I watched, she grabbed Brooke by the neck and pulled her close, kissing her deeply. Their tongues danced together above me and all I could do was watch the girls’ passionate embrace. Then, as one, they broke off, bent their heads to mine and began to frantically lick my cheeks and forehead, greedily lapping up the slick wetness from Brooke’s pussy.
After an eternity, they were finally satisfied. Brooke rolled to the side and was helped to the floor by Blake, I watched the two girls, studying their firm bodi
es with a hunger that was utterly unfamiliar. I longed for satisfaction, longed to enjoy the embrace of climax once more. My entire body was quivering, animated by the fiery energy in my pussy and desperate for release.
I realized that whatever had been pushed into my pussy was still there, filling my tight hole as deep as it would go. I shivered and moaned, unable to articulate my need with words alone. Blake turned to me and smiled.
“Oh honey, I’m sorry, I almost forgot!”
She stepped around the table again and returned to my pussy. I watched her, pleading to her with my eyes. She reached down and took hold of something, then slowly eased it out of me. She held it up for me to inspect, presenting it as an angler might present a prize catch.
I gasped. The dildo was huge, a rigid column of flesh colored plastic, rippled through with veiny details. The sight of it glistening with my juices set my passions soaring once more and I moaned, struggling to find the words. “Puh-please,” I stammered, “more!”
Blake simply smiled at me. “Oh honey, I wouldn’t want to tire you out so early! You’ve got a lot of entertaining to do tonight!”
And with that, Brooke and Blake linked arms and sauntered back to the party, leaving me on the table, desperate for sweet release but utterly unable to do anything about it!
Chapter 3: The Mistress And Her Pets
Okay, okay, I know what you’re thinking. How on earth did I go from a casual conversation in a diner with a friend to being strapped down and used by anyone who wanted me? It doesn’t seem plausible does it?
Well, that’s not quite how it happened. In fact, I left the diner that day and said goodbye to Karen, not even thinking about my invite to the ‘100 Lesbian Party’. It seemed like a flight of fancy, a curious fantasy at a difficult time in my life. Sex parties were things that happened to other people, not me! It’s true, I had found the idea mildly appealing, but I never had any real conviction that it would ever happen. Besides, Karen tended to talk big about her sex life, and I got the impression that the reality was a little bit tamer than she made out.
