Climax: Volume 2

by Ella Ford

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet? Oh sweet Leanne, so naive. I shall enjoy having you,” she said and my mind raced, struggling to reach the truth before it was too late. “You see,” she continued, “Sarah is my wife, but that’s not to say that we are equals. Quite the opposite in fact. She is also my submissive. She is my plaything, my pet, my slave, my… fuck toy.”

  I blinked, struggling to take this all in.

  “She does whatever I ask, whenever I ask. She exists only to please me. And in return, I give her stability, order, structure… discipline. Do you understand?”

  I lifted my head and looked her in the eyes. “I… yes,” I replied truthfully, remembering how I had felt when I imagined myself kneeling before CJ.

  “Good. Because this is where you come in,” she purred and touched her fingers beneath my chin, lifting my head to face her. She leaned forwards until I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face, intoxicating and intense. “You see, one is never enough, don’t you think? We require a new plaything, a second toy for my pet to play with. We require you, Leanne.”

  My thoughts were galloping along at a thousand miles an hour, struggling to take all of this in, wrestling with the implication in her words. This woman, this dominant mistress, she didn’t want a maid, didn’t want someone to clean her house. She wanted a sex slave, a willing submissive to use as she saw fit.

  The whole concept was at odds with everything that I thought to be right. My liberal education, my youthful naivety. Every instinct I had told me that this was wrong, that I needed to be away from here right this second. But I didn’t turn, I didn’t flee. Instead, I looked over at Sarah, squirming in the tight rope harness, her exposed pussy glistening and moist in the dim candlelight. I considered what it would be like to be in her place, so helpless and vulnerable. Trapped willingly and made to serve.

  I turned back to CJ and looked her in the eye, diving deep into those icy blue pools. I exhaled and blinked, unable to believe what I was about to say. “Yes… mistress.”

  Instantly, CJ snapped upright and stepped back. She smiled a viper smile and studied me intently. “Take off your clothes Leanne,” she commanded and I realized for the first time that she would not take no for an answer. Not now.

  I jumped to action, stripping out of my black dress and pantyhose with barely a second of hesitation. This wasn’t like the previous night. I felt no shame or embarrassment now. Just an intense feeling of desire, a need to be exposed and open. I wanted to surrender myself, body and mind, to CJ and her imposing will. I wanted to give her access to every part of me.

  Finally, I stood naked before her. Instinctively, I crossed my arms behind my back, remembering the submissive pose that Sarah had adopted that night in their bedroom. I pushed my chest forward, realizing that my nipples were achingly hard, their dull throb matching the pulsating rhythm of my pussy.

  CJ gazed at me with hungry eyes, then stepped behind me. I turned my head to follow her, but she snapped at me to keep my eyes forward. I capitulated instantly. Then she lightly trailed the tendrils of the flogger over my back and my ass. I shuddered at its touch, anticipating the bitter sting of pain that it could cause. I braced myself, expecting to feel its bite, but it never came. Instead, CJ leaned forward and whispered in my ear.

  “Would you like to taste Sarah’s pussy? I’ve warmed it up just for you,” she breathed.

  My heart skipped a beat and I stared over at her prone lover, writhing on the table. “Yes, mistress, yes I would,” I replied, not even considering the implications.

  “Then go and eat,” she replied, nudging me forward with her hand.

  I took a stumbling step towards the table and stopped between Sarah’s parted knees. She looked up at me from between her legs, imploring me to give her the satisfaction of pleasure. Hesitantly, I stroked my hands up her shins, touching the coils of rope that held her legs in place with rapt fascination. Then I bent at the waist and began to kiss down the inside of her thighs, savoring each burning touch of my lips on her hot skin. She moaned as I approached where she wanted me to be and I mixed in gentle flicks of my tongue with each fevered kiss.

  I realized that I could smell her pussy, her sex, her desire. It was rich and cloying, a heady cocktail of lust and passion. I breathed in deeply, allowing it to fill my nose and throat, feeling myself being drawn towards the source of that inviting musk. I felt myself observing my actions from afar, fascinated by what I was doing, surprised that I would be so attracted to another woman’s most private place. But I did not try to resist, and instead allowed myself to be driven by instinct and need.

  I shifted to the left and paused over my target, studying the complex folds of her labia and the soft pink of her inner pussy. I swept my eyes over the length of her, from her asshole, across her pussy to the folded arch of her clitoral hood, greedily eyeing every wet inch. Then I could resist no longer and I dropped my head down and plunged my tongue between her lips, lapping greedily at the gathered moisture.

  She screamed out at my first touch, a muffled moan beneath the ball gag, but unmistakable in its intent. I felt her back arch upwards and her hips push into my face. I reach up and coiled my arms around her bound legs, securing myself in place, riding this rodeo for as long as I could. She settled down and, for the first time, I concentrated on the taste of her and the soft wetness of her skin. I probed with my tongue, exploring every crevice and fold, charting out this new geography and identifying the regions that caused a reaction. Then I exploited that knowledge and drilled home, focusing the bulk of my attention on her bulging clitoris.

  Swish-crack. A sudden noise, then a burst of pain from my exposed ass. I lifted my head from Sarah’s pussy and the petite brunette moaned with displeasure. I looked back. CJ was standing behind me, her arm held aloft, trailing the cruel cords of the flogger behind her. Then she brought her arm down and the flogger landing on my ass, the sharp crack causing me to flinch and brush my cheek against Sarah’s pussy.

  “Keep going,” said CJ, a cruel smile spreading across her face. I tried to ignore the tingling sensation in my ass cheek and turned back to Sarah’s pussy, pushing my tongue against her clit once more, bracing myself for the next swipe of the flogger.

  Swish-crack. I cried out, my cries muffled by the mouthful of labia that I had at the time. The pain radiated outwards, thin tendrils of discomfort snaking around the thick streamers of pleasure that were pulsating out from my pussy. The result was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. The thin line between pleasure and pain blurred for a moment and I found myself craving the next stroke.

  I didn’t have to wait long. The flogger came down one more time and I cried out and pushed down hard on Sarah’s clit. The brunette wailed and moaned, thrashing against the ropes that held her in place, head swinging from side to side. I attempted to focus, to ignore the rhythmic swipes on my ass and concentrate on Sarah and her needs. I found a beat, moving my tongue in broad swirls and from side to side, attempting to mix up my motions but maintain a constant pressure.

  Sarah began to pant and moan, a muffled series of cries. I sensed the tension build in her body, her legs pulling at the restraining ropes and attempting to lock her thighs on my head. And every five seconds, the flogger landed, until my ass burned with a numb heat that was difficult to ignore. But all the while, my own desire grew and my pussy roared with approval and hunger.

  Suddenly, I felt Sarah’s breathing quicken and then stop. Her body became tense and rigid, spine arching upwards and toes curling against my arms. “Mmmffff”, she wailed beneath the ball gag and I glanced up to find her face locked in a rictus of unrestrained pleasure. Then her body began to shake, quaking back and forwards until the low table rattled alarmingly. She was like a woman possessed, animated by forces beyond human reckoning.

  Abruptly, she fell still, head flopping to the side, legs relaxing into the harness until it became taut and rigid. I began to stand, shaken by the intensity of the moment, ass still burning from the pain
of the flogger. Then I felt a hand grip my hair and push me forward. CJ was standing behind me, one hand in my hair, one hand between my legs, roughly exploring my dripping pussy.

  She pushed me forward onto Sarah, until I was laying across her upper body, my breasts pushed against hers. Our faces were inches apart and I studied her, hoping to catch a hint of the intense energy that was cooling with her. She peered back at me, a mix of exhaustion and adoration in her eyes, and I felt a faint pang of kinship with her, the first feeling of submissive sisterhood that would blossom and grow in the coming weeks to something akin to love.

  Before I could reflect on the confusing emotion, I felt a presence behind me and glanced back. CJ was standing at my ass, concentrating on something down at her waist. I looked forward again, not sure what to expect. Then I felt a light touch on my pussy, something cold and hard being dragged through my dripping labia. I wondered what it could be, what could be happening to me now, in this world that seemed a million miles away from my sheltered upbringing.

  Then the object stopped moving and lingered over my opening, its pressure becoming gradually more insistent and bold. I looked down at Sarah and gripped her shoulders with my hands, suddenly realizing what was about to happen. She peered back at me, unable to move or speak.

  Suddenly, my mouth fell open and I gasped as CJ’s strap-on slid into me. I was very wet, so it met with little resistance, but the sensation was surprising nonetheless. I felt myself being stretched and then filled, an intensely right feeling of completeness. I parted my legs, shifting my weight so that CJ could get a better angle as she reversed her stoke. She pushed forwards again, harder this time, causing my entire body to slide forwards and rub against Sarah’s.

  Again and again, CJ forced herself into me, the plastic cock pushing deeper each time. I felt myself losing control, the insistent pounding in my pussy mixing with the light friction as my clitoris rubbed against Sarah’s almost too much to bear. I became hungry with desire and dropped my mouth to Sarah’s face, liking her cheek, her lips, eagerly lapping up the drool that ran down her chin. I fell down to her neck, kissing and nuzzling there, breathing in deeply, savoring the delicious aroma of sweat and perfume.

  Faster and faster she drilled, pounding me harder and harder. Her skin slapped against mine, causing the sensitive skin where the flogger had bit to sing out with a tingling sensation that was akin to pain but closer to pleasure. I began to feel like a rag doll, caught between these two beautiful women, belonging to both, their willing servant in every way possible.

  I cried out, unable to contain the intense forces that raged within me. I felt the furious fire in my pussy beginning to burn out of control, a radiating presence that would not be ignored. My efforts to control that caged beast were in vain, and it leaped outwards, filling my torso, my arms, my legs. I released myself into it, allow it to fill me with the intense warmth of pleasure, and I felt the unmistakable rush of my approaching climax.

  This looming presence was too vast to be turned back, and it exploded within me in an instant, flooding my entire being with a debilitating flash of ecstasy. I screamed out loud and gripped Sarah’s shoulders harder than ever before. CJ sensed my orgasm and thrust the hard rod into me one final time, impaling me as deep as she could go. My body lifted upwards, away from Sarah, away from her soft presence, unable to control the maelstrom within me. “Ah!” I gasped.

  And then the fury ceased and my body went limp, collapsing down onto Sarah, still impaled by CJ’s rigid length. I panted, gasping for breath, for air, struggling to compose my thoughts while my body still burned.

  In time, CJ took hold of my hips and slid herself out of me, causing me to gasp at the sudden absence. She moved to the side of the table and gazed down at us, two naked, spent bodies, locked together by exhaustion and passion.

  Then she smiled. A feline look of perfect contentment that I will never forget as long as I live. “Excellent,” she said, then turned on her heel and left us, the smouldering ruins of two willing submissives.

  TO BE CONTINUED

  Breaking Their Maid

  by Ella Ford

  Chapter 1

  For the second time in a month, my life completely changed. From optimistic college graduate to domestic maid; from domestic maid to … what? After that sultry night in the Goddard’s basement, I still wasn’t entirely sure what I was, or how the defining parameters of my employment had changed.

  I knew that I was a submissive now, that I had surrendered some degree of autonomy to my employers, CJ and Sarah Goddard. I did this willingly, driven by strange new desires that the women had awakened in me. I also knew that there was a hierarchy in their household, more complex than a simple mistress and slave relationship. I was subservient to CJ and Sarah. But beyond that, Sarah was CJ’s submissive. The winsome brunette with the dark curls and smoky complexion had her own understanding with her tall, blonde wife, a firm foundation that held them together and was laid long before I ever entered their lives.

  Was I a sex slave? A possession? A toy? A pet? Looking back now, I know that I became all of those things the first time that I addressed CJ as “mistress”, the first time that I presented my naked body to her and granted her the permission that she craved. But at the time, on the morning following that sinful night, my mind was whirling with confused feelings and unresolved emotions.

  I awoke early the next day, after a fitful night of restless sleep. At first, everything seemed perfectly normal, just another day of chores, another day of productive work. Then my waking thoughts caught up, and the slow realization of my new situation seeped into my drowsy mind.

  I sat up and shuddered, gazing down at my naked body, remembering the new sensations that had been teased out of my exhausted nerve endings the night before. The bitter sting of pain as CJ’s flogger landed on my soft bottom; the intense feeling of completeness coaxed out of me by her thick strapon, driven into me relentlessly until the inevitable precipice of orgasm was crossed; and the soft warmth of Sarah’s mouth, kissing me with a hot tenderness that was a stark contrast to CJ’s rough treatment.

  I sighed as the confused feelings resurfaced in my mind. What was I now? Did I need to change how I behaved? Was I a lesbian? The last thought lingered on, swirling around in my brain until it occupied my entire consciousness.

  I’d never considered women sexually before moving in with the Goddards. I’d never so much as kissed a girl properly. I knew that my friends had experimented in college, dabbling with lesbian sex in the same way that they dabbled with mild drugs or fad diets. I can remember my best friend Anna, breathlessly relaying the details of her encounter with another member of the hockey team in a deserted locker room.

  At the time, I hadn’t thought much of it. It was just another debauched thing that happened at college. Wildly different from my small town upbringing, but something that I strived to process and accept as I sought to broaden my own horizons.

  Whatever I was, I couldn’t deny the pleasure that I had felt the previous night, or the intensity of the multiple orgasms that had raged within me. I couldn’t deny the attraction I felt to Sarah and CJ, my feelings for both women as different as the women themselves, but no less intense. For CJ, I felt a need to give myself to her, to be possessed and used by her. I craved the objectification of ownership, dehumanising but wildly compelling. For Sarah, my feelings were deeper, more complex. The tiny brunette felt like a sister to me, a kindred spirit, joined together in our submission and our mutual desire.

  I shook my head and blinked the sleep out of my eyes. I decided to treat the morning as normal and get showered and dressed as usual, hoping that the new parameters of my existence in the house would present themselves in time.

  After a quick shower, I stepped back into the bedroom and found myself facing my new life sooner than I could have possibly imagined. Hanging on the back of the door was a white garment bag with a yellow sticky note attached to it with the simple phrase:

  Your new uniform.<
br />
  I recognized the handwriting as CJ’s. It was fine and spidery, efficient and sparse. With trembling hands, I opened the zip on the bag and gazed inside.

  The new uniform was a maid uniform, like my current one in many ways, but very different in a multitude of others. Frowning, I took the bag down and laid it on the bed, pulling the items out one by one and studying them.

  First, a black satin dress that appeared impossibly short and impossibly low. I held it to my body and peered at myself in the full length mirror. I wondered how on earth it would ever fit. The dress itself was elaborate and revealing, with layers of short, lace petticoat sewed into the skirt and a frilly white trim across the low chest.

  I turned back to the bag. Next to emerge was a crisp, white apron, the only component that seemed unchanged from my previous uniform. I gazed at the decorative covering, feeling slightly wistful for my old outfit.

  Next, in place of the practical pantyhose from before were a pair of sheer black thigh high stockings. I held the flimsy hosiery aloft, feeling a sudden flush spreading across my chest and neck as I touched the provocative underwear. The stockings had thick seams that ran from the tip of the reinforced toes to the very edge of the pretty lace top. Instinctively, I knew that I would need to keep this seam straight, or else feel CJ’s wrath.

  I set the stockings down and looked back into the bag. A skimpy black bra and matching panties and a deep purple shoe bag were all that remained. I lifted out the shoe bag and pulled at the drawstring, not really needing to look inside to know that my days of wearing comfortable flat shoes had become cherished memories.

  Sure enough, the shoe bag contained a pair of black stiletto pumps, shiny and alluring with a tall heel that looked precarious and fragile. I groaned, inwardly dreading the pain that I’d feel in my tired feet after a hard day of work.