Climax: Volume 2

by Ella Ford

  From deep inside me, I became aware of a familiar ache. A dull throb that demanded attention, pulsing deep in my pussy with an insistent rhythm. If CJ’s will compelled me to stay in this complex relationship, it was this internal urge that held me in place. The pleasure of sexuality, fueled by a desire for sensation and the warm touch of female flesh. It felt so natural to me now that I didn’t shy away from the overwhelming feeling, instead embracing it with all my being, any sense that what I was doing was sinful or forbidden served only to gild the temptation with an irresistible edge.

  “Fuck her cunt with your face Leanne,” said CJ in the kind of offhand way that you might ask someone to pass the TV remote.

  Sarah moaned, responding to CJ’s filthy directive. She shifted in the harness, wriggling against the rope restraints and curling her nylon covered toes. I felt a rush of pleasure as she struggled, an unfathomably deep need that I longed to explore.

  CJ shifted her hand and gripped one of the ropes that wrapped around Sarah’s hanging body, then she pushed my head forwards, forcing the black dildo into her wife’s pussy while she held her in place. I felt my stomach lurch, a sudden rush of vertigo as Sarah’s pussy rushed towards my face. I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut and fearing that my defenseless nose would collide with her pink flesh, but CJ stopped my motion just in time, impaling her wife on the thick cock until my face was half an inch from that damp mound.

  Sarah cried out, a muffled cry of discomfort and pleasure, then CJ pulled my head back and slipped the black cock out. Sarah moaned again, a cry that was unmistakably pure pleasure this time, a demand for more. Without hesitation, I felt my head plunging forwards, ramming the thick rod into the brunette, deeper this time, harder. I tried to relax, allowed myself to be used for pleasure, fighting the uncanny sense of dislocation and the alien feeling of fucking with my face.

  In time, I felt CJ’s grip on my head loosen and I began to move without prompting, driving my face forward and fucking Sarah with an insistent rhythm. I began to relish the warm rush of air that was rich with her scent as it breezed over my nose with each powerful thrust into her pussy. From far away, Sarah’s muffled cries signalled her pleasure; short, sharp gasps pushed through the constricting ball gag at the apex of every hard thrust.

  Distantly, I became aware of CJ’s absence. Her hand had left my head, satisfied that I was able to perform her will with a degree of autonomy. I wondered where she had gone, what intoxicating twist was she going to introduce to this depraved scene. But my thoughts were lost among the waves of hot pleasure that were washing over me with every deep thrust of my face-cock into my brunette lover’s gaping pussy.

  I felt myself falling into a quickening rhythm, driving my head forward and pulling it back with dizzying pace. I was overwhelmed by the debilitating sense of it all. The sound of Sarah’s moans, the smell of her desire, the immaculate friction of the slick length entering her stretched pussy. My notion of self extended to encompass the strange appendage that hung from my mouth, it seemed to become a part of me, fake sensations radiating from that tantalizing rod into my fevered body.

  “Mph mph!” cried Sarah, thrashing about within the limits of the constraints. I reached up with my hands to steady her, disobeying CJ’s orders to keep my hands behind my back but needing to stabilize my prey. My hands fell on her feet and my fingers wrapped around her nylon covered soles. She felt warm and soft, a perfect juxtaposition with the industrial harshness of her restraint. I longed to turn to the side and taste her feet, to kiss my way up her calves, her thighs, to lick and kiss every inch of her perfect body. But my role was set, as was hers, and I continued to drive the black cock into her, faster and faster, provoking her to scream out in a constant chorus of pure pleasure.

  Suddenly, Sarah’s body bent upwards, spine arching and head pushing back. I felt an unbearable tension settle on in her limbs, toned muscles turning rigid as a furious force raged through her tiny frame. A hot warmth splashed on my face as I rammed the plastic rod into her one final time, a sticky spurt that covered my nose and forehead.

  “MMPH!” she screamed, twisting and turning, pulling at the ropes in a vain attempt to free herself. Then her entire body began to shake, every muscle appearing to tremble as one.

  I’d never felt anything like it, the sense of the brunette’s moment of intense pleasure, a furious storm that was conveyed to me through the lightning rod that she was impaled on. I felt a lurch in my pussy, a sudden pulse of pleasure that filled my own body, urged on by Sarah’s writhing ecstasy. I gasped and longed to reach down and touch myself, to give myself the same release that Sarah was currently enjoying. But I held back, knowing that CJ would give me this release later if I was a good girl, if I obeyed her without question.

  At once, the fevered quaking stopped and Sarah appeared to go limp in the rope harness. Her body swung languidly before me, my face-cock still deep within her. I pulled backwards, relishing the slickness of the appendage as it slid out of her exhausted pussy, dripping with her wet lust. With my heart beating heavily in my chest, I fell back on my heels and awaited CJ and whatever she had in store for us next.

  After an eternity of minutes, CJ stood and wandered up to the pair of us, clapping slowly. The tall blonde had been sitting in a comfortable armchair at the other side of the opulent sex dungeon, watching her wife and her maid perform for her.

  “That was very nice ladies,” she purred, moving to stand beside her suspended lover. She gazed lovingly at Sarah’s slack face, studying her as the glowing embers of the orgasm faded and cooled. Then she reached her hand down to the brunette’s pussy and dipped her fingers into those dripping lips. As I watched, she lifted her hand to her mouth and absentmindedly sucked on the tips, savoring the exquisite taste. “Did you enjoy it Leanne?”

  “Mmph,” I replied, unable to talk clearly because of the face dildo.

  She smiled at me. “Silly me, you can’t talk can you?” she tittered with a genuine warmth that seemed at odds with what she’d just made me do. “No matter. I like you both like this. Gagged, restrained, entirely under my control.” She reached down once more and squeezed Sarah’s tiny breast, causing her wife to moan. She turned to me again and fixed me with her icy stare. “I have a present for you,” she said, and turned to the armchair, leaving Sarah swaying in the harness.

  My heart skipped a beat, unsure what to expect next. Was it my turn to be tied and fucked? Would I be pleasuring her? My life now was an endless sequence of sexual unorthodoxy, thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. I loved it!

  CJ returned to the pair of us and placed something on Sarah’s stomach, using her wife as a handy table. It was a small, purple box, the kind of velvety container that might hold a necklace or bracelet. She smiled at me and opened the box.

  Inside was a black leather collar, inlaid with gleaming jewels that twinkled in the dim light of the basement. The collar fastened at the rear with an intricate buckle, and on the opposite side was a silver ring, about half an inch in diameter. The piece was beautiful and finely made, and it conjured an intense feelings inside me that I couldn’t explain. It seemed to scream submission, a simultaneously degrading and affirming accessory that I longed and feared to wear in equal measure.

  “Do you like it?”

  I nodded truthfully.

  “You’ve been a good girl over the last few months Leanne, a fine maid and an accomplished lover,” she said. I realized that this was as close to true praise that CJ ever got, that she was being entirely sincere here. Sarah grunted into the gag, seemingly agreeing with her dominant wife. “I think it’s time that we moved our relationship to the next level.”

  She reached into the box and pulled out the collar, turning it in her hands and studying it intently. Then she stepped over to stand behind me as I kneeled. I felt her begin to fiddle with the dildo mask and breathed in relief as the black rubber was removed from my sweating face. “Thank you mistress,” I said, gulping back the sweet taste of cold air.

&nb
sp; “That’s quite alright Leanne. Now, you will wear my collar, if that is what you wish. But in doing so, you should understand what this means.”

  I nodded, captivated by her words.

  “The collar represents your submission to me, complete and total. It represents that you belong to Sarah and me, you are our possession, our owned slave. While you wear this collar, you are a part of our family, but you have devoted your existence to our pleasure. Do you understand?” she said, stroking my hair and caressing my cheek.

  I leaned into her hand and nodded, thrilled by the warmth of her touch and the implication of what she was saying. I was theirs! They owned me! For reasons that I couldn’t explain, the notion made me feel light headed and giddy.

  “Very well then,” she said. Maybe it was my imagination, but I swear I heard a note of relief in her voice.

  She reached around my head and placed the collar on my neck, pulling it around and fastening it behind me. I gasped as the cold leather touched my skin and felt the silver ring settle on my chest. As she pulled it tight, I felt a moment of panic at the sense of constriction, but the feeling passed in an instant and was replaced by something else. A warm joy that rippled through my body and set my heart racing. It felt right, as though this is what I was born to - a life of servitude and obedience, the collar serving as an outward indicator of my place.

  CJ moved around my body and peered down at me, beaming warmly.

  “You look lovely Leanne, doesn’t she Sarah?” she said and removed her wife’s blindfold so that she could see. The tiny brunette blinked at the sudden light, then turned her head and gazed down at me. I heard her gasp under the gag, and saw a strange sparkle in her eyes as she saw her collared maid for the first time. She nodded distantly, and I wondered what she was thinking. I was suddenly struck by the way that the pair of us were owned in our own ways, both slaves to CJ and her whims.

  But the thought was fleeting, leaving my head in an instant to be replaced by a feeling of contentment and belonging. I felt, at that moment, as though I was right where I wanted to be, that nothing could ever change this feeling.

  It wasn’t until later that I came to understand how naive this feeling was, how all things must change and nothing lasts forever.

  Chapter 2

  The first thin cracks in our perfect arrangement appeared several weeks later, though I didn’t realize it at the time.

  It was an ordinary Wednesday afternoon and I’d spent the day cleaning the house, ironing the laundry and generally keeping on top of my mistresses and their busy lives. Since my collaring, I was expected to wear the pretty leather strap around my neck at all times, and I did so with pride. While it wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, I nevertheless found that I was always aware of it, always had the sense of something around my throat. If I’m honest, I enjoyed this awareness. It reminded me of my place, that I was an owned slave. And at the back of my mind, there was always the anticipation of the coming evening and whatever sordid pleasures CJ had in mind for us.

  I thought about this as I went about my business, fussing over tiny details in the modern living room. Which way would I be made to come tonight? How would CJ use my body? How would she make me use Sarah? I shuddered with excitement. The thoughts were not new, the considerations were familiar. But the lack of novelty didn’t detract from how they made me feel, how the very thought of CJ’s sensual direction caused my pussy to glow with eager anticipation.

  Suddenly, I was roused from my thoughts by the sound of voices from somewhere else in the house. I leaned my head to the side and struggled to make out what was being said. CJ and Sarah Goddard were both at home, but I seldom saw them interact during daylight hours. CJ mostly spent her time in her home office, engaged in whatever work tasks she had for the day; while Sarah spent most of her day crafting or in the garden.

  So the voices I heard now were strangely out of place, and, as I listened harder, I realized that the conversation was heated, each voice possessing an edge that bordered on anger. My heart skipped a beat and I felt instantly anxious. My mistresses barely talked during the day, let alone argued! And the very idea of Sarah raising her voice to CJ caused a feeling inside me that I can only compare to the way a child must feel when her parents fight.

  I shook my head and tried to continue my chores, but the conversation continued, getting louder with every second. I found it difficult to ignore, and longed to cover my ears and pretend it wasn’t happening. Eventually, I decided to hide out in the laundry room. The washing machine was currently running, and the sound would drown out the argument nicely. I put down my feather duster and started in that direction.

  Unfortunately, my route took me past CJ’s office and, as I passed, I realized that the two women were inside. I tiptoed across the hall, trying desperately not to eavesdrop on their heated discussion, but despite my best efforts, I found myself discerning words and phrases.

  “You know I don’t like that woman!” snapped a voice that was unmistakably Sarah’s. It sounded weird and alien, possessing an animated emotion that the normally placid brunette never normally displayed.

  “Oh, Sarah dear…” began CJ, but she was cut off by her agitated wife.

  “Don’t ‘dear’ me CJ! I can’t believe you intend to do this!” she shouted and I heard the slap of a hand on wood.

  The room fell silent and I started to move again, intending to get as far as possible from the disturbing exchange. But just as I was leaving, CJ spoke again, her voice low and distant. There was something in her tone, something that I didn’t like one bit. My mind thrashed around, trying to identify the emotion, but I couldn’t at first. I stopped in place and leaned my head towards the door, struggling to make out her words.

  “Sarah,” she began, “what happened with Cassandra and I happened years ago, long before I met you. We had… we had something between us, something that I can’t just forget about. I can’t just… I can’t just ignore her. She’s…”

  “She’s what CJ? Your mistress? Your owner?” spat Sarah, her tone venomous and harsh.

  “I was different back then, younger. But she’s still…” stammered CJ. I found myself bewildered by what I was hearing and the reversal of roles. CJ seemed meek and timid, Sarah raging and dominant. I wondered who this ‘Cassandra’ was and what hold she had over CJ.

  “Do you love me CJ?” said Sarah, her voice suddenly quiet but still unwaveringly controlled. “Do you love us?” she added, and I realized that she was including me. A hot flush rose across my chest and onto my neck.

  Silence. Then CJ spoke. “Yes,” she whispered, and I was barely able to hear her. “Yes, you know I do. I love you both, you’re mine.”

  “Then love us, and forget about Cassandra. Your past is over, we are your life now, not her,” said Sarah. She appeared to be pleading with her wife now, the prospect of whatever CJ was planning obviously utterly abhorrent to her.

  “I… I can’t…” replied CJ and the room fell ominously silent.

  I became aware that the conversation, whatever it had been about, was over. My heart leaped and I realized that I was standing outside of the door, spying on my mistresses instead of minding my own business like a good little pet. I shook my head and hurried off down the hall to the laundry room, stepping as lightly as I could, struggling to prevent my high heeled shoes from clicking on the hard wooden floor.

  As I entered the laundry and shut the door behind me, I heard a commotion and a sudden slam from the direction I’d come. I gasped, startled by the loud sound and reeling from what I’d heard, wondering what would happen next.

  But the house fell back into silence, and only the memory remained.

  Later on, after night had fallen, I found myself lying awake in bed. There had been no playtime that night, no insistent summons to the basement room. In fact, I hadn’t seen anything of CJ and Sarah for the rest of the day.

  The whole encounter and the subsequent icy tension in the house troubled me greatly. I’d never seen anyth
ing other than placid submission in Sarah, and her fiery outburst earlier seemed to show a side of her that I never would have guessed existed. And CJ… the dominant blonde was usually so controlling and self-assured, her grip on my heart was firm, but always fair. She was our keeper, our owner and our mistress. To hear her sound so reduced shook me to the core.

  I rolled over onto my side, trying to will sleep to come, but the combination of my racing mind and the humid night prevented me from falling into the blissful embrace of oblivion. Instead, I stared at the darkened ceiling and concocted scenarios in my mind to explain the strange argument.

  It was just after midnight when I became aware of a sound out in the hallway. It wasn’t unusual to hear activity at this time of night, usually sounds of conversation or fucking from the mistresses’s room. But this sound was closer, light footfalls outside my room. The gentle tapping slowed up as it came closer and then fell silent, as though someone was waiting outside the door. I turned my head to hear better, then the door handle turned and the door creaked open.

  Without thinking, I quietly turned to face the window, placing my back to the door and pretending to be asleep. It was probably CJ checking that I had obeyed my curfew.

  The gentle tap tap of footsteps began again, inside the room this time, and I became aware of a light breathing, quick and shallow, somehow fearful and hesitant. I longed to turn around and see who it was, but something held me in place.