Climax: Volume 2

by Ella Ford

  But there was something else, a deep desire to wear the outfit, to see myself dressed as CJ wanted; a porn caricature of a domestic servant, a human doll attired to my owner’s exacting requirements.

  Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door, three light taps and then silence. I realized that I was completely naked and looked around for my robe, and then remembered that modesty was no longer a consideration in my life.

  “Come in,” I shouted, attempting to compose myself.

  The door pushed open and Sarah Goddard peered around, her pretty dark curls and delicate features beaming as she caught sight of my naked body. I looked at her and felt a surge of desire, suddenly overcome by the memory of her scent, her taste, the gentle friction of her hands on my body.

  The tiny brunette stepped into the room and stood by the door. She was wearing a thin, white satin robe that was drawn loosely around her waist and open at her breast, revealing the shallow trench of her cleavage and the pale expanse of her chest. Her hands were held before her, clutching a small, pink toiletry bag; slender, painted fingers playing with the canvas handle nervously.

  “Hi,” I said, not entirely sure what to say.

  “H-hi,” she stuttered, her eyes flicking up and down my body. She seemed timid and reluctant, but there was a sharp note of desire in her voice. “CJ sent me to … uh … get you ready,” she added.

  I raised my eyebrows and looked down at the hanging uniform. Did she mean to dress me? I thought with a rush of anticipation. Shouldn’t I be dressing her?

  She stepped across the room to the dresser and set the bag down, then turned to look at me. Her eyes settled on my pussy and she began to nibble at her lower lip, appearing deep in concentration. Then she raised a finger and pointed between my legs. “CJ says that this,” she flicked her finger back and forth, “will have to come off.”

  I blinked, confused and not entirely sure what she was talking about, then realization slowly dawned on me. “Oh!” I gasped, and felt a warm flush crawling up my face. She was talking about my bush, the patch of honey blonde hair between my legs.

  I suddenly felt very selfconscious and shifted my weight, dropping my hands to cover my crotch. “I… I’m sorry… I didn’t…” I stammered, not sure what else to say. I never put a lot of effort into personal grooming down there before. How much did she want off? I thought to myself.

  Sarah seemed to sense my trepidation and smiled warmly, then stepped over to me and stroked her fingers down my upper arm. A rash of goosebumps spread outwards from her touch and I shuddered, suddenly catching my breath and sighing softly.

  “Don’t be scared Leanne,” the pretty brunette whispered to me, “CJ just likes her girls to be completely shaved. I’ll be very gentle!” she added with a smirk.

  I found myself thinking back to the previous night, as I had about a thousand times already that morning. I pictured Sarah’s pussy as I lowered my mouth onto it and remembered that it was indeed completely bald, free of hair and utterly unblemished. Then a different thought rose in my mind. Not a memory this time, but an image of what might be. I thought of the pair of us, standing together, legs spread apart, arms crossed behind our backs. In the vivid picture, both of us were equally shaved, perfectly prepared pussies ready for our mistress’s attention. I found myself craving this, yearning to be a part of this sordid tableau. “O-okay,” I breathed.

  Sarah Goddard took a step back and peered at me with hungry eyes. Then she loosened the thin cord that held her robe in place and allowed the flimsy garment to fall down her arms to the floor below. “Let’s go to the bathroom,” she whispered and fluttered her eyelashes.

  I nodded and she took my hand, then led me across the hall to the large bathroom, grabbing the pink bag on the way. I felt myself overcome by a surge of desire as the pair of us walked together, suddenly needing to feel her soft skin against mine, to feel her breath on my face.

  She set the bag down in the bathroom and unzipped it, rummaging inside and setting out its contents on the counter. I watched with detached fascination and waited for her to tell me what to do. I found that I enjoyed this form of surrender, allowing myself to be directed, to be guided to satisfy the whims of another. It thrilled me in a way that I couldn’t have imagined possible just a few days ago.

  Sarah turned to me and cocked her head to the side, appearing deep in thought. She started to nibble at her lower lip once more, an affectation that was impossibly cute and deeply inviting. Then she gestured for me to sit on the side of the bath, against the wall. I stepped across the room and lowered myself down, suddenly overwhelmed by the twin feelings of nervousness and hungry anticipation.

  “Leg up,” she said as she gathered the contents of the bag in her hands and moved to stand in front of me. I raised my left leg up and swung it around to rest my foot on the edge of the tub, exposing my pussy to her. Then she lowered herself down and kneeled before me on the bath mat, resting one hand on my right thigh for balance.

  She gazed down at my pussy and smiled, then lightly stroked her hand through my wispy blonde hair. “It’s so pretty,” she purred, “it almost seems a shame to lose it.”

  I felt my heart begin to beat quickly, fueled by the electric touch of her fingertips on my skin. I watched her with rapt fascination, this petite beauty who seemed utterly entranced by my body.

  Finally, Sarah blinked, then reached down beside herself and picked up a pot of shaving cream. With a deft flick of her wrist, she unscrewed the cap and dipped her slender fingers into the milky white cream, pulling out a large dollop of the scented substance. She looked up at me and smirked. “Ready?” she asked, seducing me with her hungry eyes. “It might be a little cold at first,” she added apologetically.

  I nodded and braced myself, gripping the side of the bath. Then she lowered her hand and smeared the cold cream over my pussy. I gasped, shocked as much by the sudden chill of the cream on my sensitive skin as the deep feeling of desire that raced outwards from my loins and warmed my body. “Ah,” I sighed.

  With an impossibly tender touch, Sarah began to massage the cream into my hair, lightly brushing her fingers over my burning lips as she moved. I felt a familiar warmth gathering deep inside me, a burning core that radiated tendrils of pleasure out into my body.

  Finally, Sarah sat back on her heels and stared at my pussy, now lathered over fully with the white foam. She blinked twice and smiled, happy that I was ready for the next stage, then reached down again and picked up an ornate looking razor.

  I felt myself tense up as she moved her hand close to my pussy, and she tightened her grip on my thigh reassuringly. Then she began to tease the razor over my bush, starting at the edges with light strokes and working her way inwards, pausing only to rinse the razor off under the tub’s faucet. As she progressed, she leaned forwards, placing her face closer to scrutinize her work. She appeared to be taking a great deal of care, eager not to cut or nick my skin, probably as much for CJ’s benefit as my own. It wouldn’t do to have the mistress’s maid with razor burn on her submissive pussy! I thought to myself, then felt instantly guilty.

  After several minutes, Sarah reached to the side and grabbed a small hand towel, then roughly wiped off the remaining cream from between my legs. Finally, she sat back, then tilted her head to the side and examined her work. I didn’t dare to look down, fearing the sight of my bald pussy for reasons that I couldn’t articulate. Was it because of what it represented? My final capitulation? The unmistakable indication that I was now owned property, a doll to be manipulated as my mistress pleased?

  Sarah smiled and reached forward, lightly caressing me down there. She breathed out as her fingers touched me in a place unused to direct contact. “That’s better,” she breathed, still touching me, her fingers reaching down further between my legs with every stroke.

  I looked down and gasped. My pussy was completely hairless now, slightly pink and raw, reduced to a single fold that disappeared between my legs. It looked impossibly appealing, drawing the e
ye to my moist lips and the treasures within.

  I was suddenly overcome with desire, a hungry need to taste Sarah Goddard as the pretty brunette continued to touch me in my most private place. Sarah seemed to sense my need and raised up onto her knees so that her face was inches from mine. Our eyes met, her dark pools of deep night gazing into mine. I felt her need, a perfect mirror of my own. She began to move her hand with more purpose, plunging her fingertips into my labia and spreading my wet lips apart. I felt exposed down there, a strange feeling of chill air on my uncovered skin. It was an impossible rush, and I began to breath deeply, imploring her with my eyes to go further, to plunge deeper.

  She leaned forwards and pressed her lips to mine, reaching around my neck with her free hand and pulling me towards her. I surrendered to her grip and the insistent presence of her mouth on mine. I parted my lips as I’d parted my legs for her, giving myself over to her control and allowing her whatever access she desired.

  The brunette sensed my capitulation. She tightened her grip on my neck and kissed me deeper than ever before and I felt her tongue push forward, forcing its way between my lips and probing into the waiting chasm of my mouth. I met her tongue with my own, savoring the hot taste of her and the writhing presence within me.

  As we kissed, I felt the hand between my legs quicken with a frantic urgency, fueled by the sinful contact of our mouths. Her fingers darted back and forth, pressing my lips between her digits and squeezing the throbbing nub of my clitoris. I gasped as the rough contact sent shards of pure pleasure racing outwards throughout my body. I pulled away from her mouth and squeezed my eyes shut, unable to process the sheer volume of sensation that my body was subjected to.

  She moaned and pulled me back, gripping my neck tightly and allowing me no relief. I surrendered once more, as I would do countless times in the coming days and weeks, allowing my body to be controlled by this sensual puppet master. And in relinquishing this agency, I sensed the rolling ball of fire in my pussy expand and pulse, igniting every nerve-ending in my body with tingling ecstasy.

  Suddenly, she stopped kissing me and pulled back, fixing me with a gaze that was animalistic and wild. I felt her need and the pure force of her lust, and felt powerless before it. Then she reversed her hand and hooked her fingers into the dripping hole of my pussy; slipping first two, then three of her slender digits into my yielding opening. She began to thrust her hand back and forth, driving herself into me as far as she could reach while she flicked her thumb quickly over my clitoris.

  I threw my head back, mouth falling open in a silent scream. I desperately wanted to cry out, to release the raging maelstrom that surged through me, but I didn’t dare, unsure of what CJ would say if she found her wife and I together like this. So I internalized the storm and allowed the encroaching climax to build and build until I felt as though I might burst. My arms thrashed about, hands sliding over the smooth white tiles that covered the walls, grasping for something without conscious thought or action.

  But the insatiable brunette showed no mercy, no let up from her constant motions. Her hand moved quicker and quicker, fingers darting in and out, thumb swirling around in agonising circles, pressing my throbbing clit hard against my pelvic bone. It became too much, an unrelenting torrent of pleasure that roared in my pussy and was impossible to ignore.

  I struggled against it, futile resistance in the face of such overwhelming force. The orgasm built, unrestrained, a pulsing ball of white fire at the very heart of my being. And then it exploded, rushing outwards like a supernova, sweeping away any semblance of rational thought. I released myself into it, allowing the furious wind to fill my body, my mind. And as the pleasure raced through me, I reached up and grabbed Sarah’s head, pulling her mouth onto mine and kissing her deeply. I longed to share this with her, to make her feel what I was experiencing, the direct result of her lust and her actions.

  She kissed me back, meeting my tongue with hers, sliding her wet lips across mine. We kissed until the orgasm faded and my thoughts blacked out, overloaded senses unable to cope any more. I fell forwards, collapsing in her arms, breathing heavily and trembling uncontrollably. She embraced me, withdrawing her hand from my quivering pussy and wrapping her arms around my naked body. Her warmth brought me back to life, supplying the animating force that the receding climax had robbed me of.

  As I lay there, head resting on her slender shoulders, I felt as though I never wanted to be anywhere else ever again.

  Chapter 2

  After those first tentative steps, my life acquired a new structure. By day, I stumbled through my domestic tasks, wearing the revealing uniform of my submission. Cooking and cleaning for my two mistresses in much the same way as I had before.

  But in the moments between chores or during the long evenings and hot nights, I found myself serving the two women in very different ways, submitting to them as each one required.

  My relationship with Sarah became one of stolen moments and secret meetings, furtive encounters in the washroom or the kitchen. The pretty brunette was a tender lover, but a demanding one, one that needed attention and sought it often. I frequently turned to find her standing in the doorway, studying me as I worked, eyes flicking over my body, lingering on my legs or my breasts. Sometimes, she would just stare, licking her lips and watching me, igniting me with the thrill of objectification. Other times, she would stalk me through the house, then pounce on me when I was least expecting it, sliding her body against me, pawing at me with trembling hands, her nervousness fueling my own desire.

  But with CJ, my submission was different. I came to know her needs, her desires, her endlessly appealing requirements. I knew that she liked to arrive home from work to find me kneeling on the floor in the hallway, arms crossed behind my back, eager for the return of my mistress and her harsh touch. I knew that she liked to have her pretty heels removed and her feet worshipped, toes and soles sucked and licked through the warm material of her pantyhose. Sometimes, as I kneeled before her, my mouth sucking at her writhing toes, I would catch her looking down at me, an inscrutable look on her face that was maybe contempt and maybe love.

  And between these shining moments of individual submission, the wider backdrop of our steamy threesome, brought to life during irregular sessions in the basement room. Long evenings of pleasure and pain that CJ called “playtime”

  During these sessions, our hierarchy was flattened, with Sarah and I becoming equals; naked possessions who existed only to serve CJ and her insatiable demands.

  There was no timetable to playtime, no way of predicting when CJ would summon us. They were simply subject to her whim and her needs, mandatory moments that were signalled by the chiming of a small bell. Upon hearing this signal, both Sarah and I were to stop what we were doing, take off all of our clothes and proceed to the basement as quickly as we could. I found myself anticipating these sessions with trepidation and excitement, fearing the depths of CJ’s endless need for variety and craving the inevitable feelings of ecstasy and fulfillment that they would bring.

  On Thursday, about a month into my employment, I returned to my room after a hard day of chores. My feet were aching in the high heeled shoes and I inwardly hoped that CJ wouldn’t summon us to playtime that night.

  As I collapsed back onto my bed, I noticed something familiar but out of place. My mobile phone was lying on the bedside table, as it had since the very first day I set foot in the Goddard’s house. The featureless slab of ebony glass seemed foreign to me now, a conduit of contact to a world that I no longer cared about. I never turned it on, never used it for its intended purpose. It simply sat there, charging endlessly for a need that I no longer possessed.

  But tonight the notification signal was flashing. I thought I’d signed out of IM? I thought to myself, curiosity piqued against my better judgement. I laid back and tried to ignore the insistent flashing, but the legacy feeling of social curiosity gnawed at my mind and I couldn’t forget about it. Eventually, I relented, intending to canc
el the notification and turn off the phone for good. I picked up the handset and flicked it on.

  1 new SMS received from Anna P.

  I blinked, remembering that I hadn’t disabled SMS notifications. Nobody used them, and I certainly hadn’t received one in years. I found myself wondering what Anna could want, whether it was urgent and something that I really should know about.

  Anna was my best friend, I’d known her all through college. For the first time since moving in with the Goddard’s, I found myself missing my pal and her adventurous spirit. I sighed and touched the notification, opening up the message, unknowingly setting in motion a sequence of events with wide-ranging implications.

  Hey hun! R u ok?? Haven’t heard from u in weeks, u dropped off the face of the earth. Let me know ur ok. Luv u xxx

  I felt a sudden pang of guilt, the shame at having abandoned my friend, not even bothering to tell her where I was. In truth, I hadn’t even considered it at the time, caught up in the whirlwind of desire and pleasure that life with the Goddard’s had brought.

  I turned the phone over in my hand, unsure what to do. I didn’t want her to know what I was really doing, but I wanted her mind to be at rest. With a heavy sigh, I pressed the reply button.

  Everything fine, got new job, keeping me busy. Will let you know more soon xx

  Then I hit send and felt instantly better, comforted by this fleeting contact with my old, familiar life. I clicked the screen off and set the phone down on the bedside table, then collapsed back onto the bed.

  My head had barely touched the pillow when the phone sprang to life, vibrating wildly and demanding attention. Oh shit! I thought. Anna was was calling me, she must have been glued to her phone. My terse message apparently wasn’t enough for her.

  I stared at the phone, thankful that the handset was on silent, but aware that the vibration was causing a buzzing sound that could surely be heard from the hallway. I picked up the device and stared at it, intending to cancel the call and turn it off, but realizing that this would make things worse.