Climax: Volume 2

by Ella Ford

  “Y-yes,” she whispered and lowered her eyes. “Everyone says I need to be the best I can be, carve my own path, show the world how awesome I am. Everyone says I should embrace responsibility, take control, do exactly what I want to do.”

  “But you don’t want that?” I asked, suddenly picturing this cute, intelligent girl posing on a cylindrical black plinth, completely naked but for a pair of precariously high heels.

  “No,” she answered firmly. “I want to belong, to follow, to obey. All the things that women are not supposed to want, I want. Am I broken?” she asked, turning to face me with a look of sadness on her pretty face.

  I lifted my cup and took a sip of my tea, studying her, wondering how I’d got so lucky as to have this opportunity gifted to me.

  “I have something to show you,” I said and clicked my fingers together with a sharp snap. Charlotte flinched and looked confused.

  Seconds later, the large double doors to the sitting room swung open, and three of my girls stepped through the entrance in single file. Christa, Chloe and Beth.

  For this performance, I’d dressed them identically. Each girl was naked but for a pair of sheer, black, thigh-high stockings and tall black stiletto heels. Each girl’s hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and braided into a complex rope that fell vertically down her spine. Their faces were plastered in exaggerated make-up, sexy and vampish, with dark eyes and lips and glowing cheeks. They were three avatars of desire, each one as erotic and enticing as the last.

  With long strides, they walked to the center of the room, sharp heels clicking on the wooden floor. Then they positioned themselves in a perfect row, standing with their feet a shoulder’s width apart, their arms cross behind their backs and their heads bowed and lowered.

  I turned to look at Charlotte, studying her face for signs of a reaction. How much did she want what she claimed? I have to confess that I was improvising now, not entirely sure what was going to happen. I never intended this to be a collection. I thought that the writer of the Craigslist ad would be some curious college tramp, looking for a story to add to her growing biography of sexual conquest. I thought she’d be a pleasing diversion for an evening, a pleasant young pussy to throw to my girls and use myself, if I felt so inclined. But it was obvious from the outset that Charlotte was not a decadent pleasure seeker, that her needs aligned so perfectly with what I offered. Could I have found a previously unknown Dali sketch entirely by accident?

  The blonde student gasped sharply and blinked, studying the three submissive girls before us. She seemed unable to speak, her mouth hanging open with shocked bewilderment.

  “What you want is not uncommon,” I said, breaking the tense silence. I uncrossed my legs and stood, stepping slowly over to stand beside Chloe, the high-class redhead princess who I’d recently acquired. “These three girls belong to me, I own them in every meaningful way.”

  Charlotte exhaled deeply. “I-I don’t understand,” she said.

  I smiled warmly at her and lazily traced a single finger across Chloe’s chest, lightly brushing the hard nub of her nipple. The redhead shuddered and sighed. “There’s plenty of time for understanding later,” I added. “But first you have an important decision to make. How much do want what you said? Was your ad a rash indulgence, a flirtation with a whim? Or was it something deeper, something more profound and meaningful?”

  She turned to say something and I lifted my hand, causing her head to snap back around and her mouth to close.

  “If this is a joke to you, a dare, a passing fancy, then I think we’re done here. I’ll call you a taxi, you can go back to your dorm and your books, return to your life and thank your lucky stars that you avoided falling into the clutches of the strange older lady in the big house.” I paused, allowing her to consider my words. “But if you truly want this, if you wish more than anything else to cast off the cape of responsibility that holds you in place and embrace a life that goes against everything you’ve been conditioned to want, then I require only one thing of you - take my hand.”

  I held out my hand, offering her my upturned palm. She looked at it as though I was presenting her with a spitting cobra or a red-hot poker. She turned away and faced the door, blinking madly, brow furrowed in furious concentration. I sensed that this had escalated far beyond what she had expected, that the reality of my life was considerably more shocking to her than I knew. She sighed and her shoulders slumped. I sensed an internal consensus had been reached, the result of a calculation that I could barely comprehend. What did it mean to willingly surrender your life and your freedom?

  I glanced away from the nervous college girl on the sofa to my three submissive slaves. Beth and Chloe remained expressionless and blank, gazing at the floor calmly. But Christa had raised her eyes slightly, almost imperceptibly, and was gazing at Charlotte. As I watched, a sly smirk appeared on her face, lighting her eyes with a hungry longing that I knew only too well. It seemed that my curious lawyer had plans of her own.

  My thoughts of punishment or scolding were suddenly swept away as Charlotte mumbled something quietly, barely whispering beneath her breath. I turned to face her once more.

  “Speak up girl,” I snapped.

  “I said… I want it…” she repeated, louder this time, lifting her eyes to stare directly at me. Without another word, she stood and stepped over to me, then placed her shaking hand into mine.

  ---

  I led the trembling girl out of the living room and up the stairs. Her hand was damp and clammy, the tense excitement in her body manifesting as a pronounced shake in her fingers. Her breath was quick and shallow and I feared that she was seconds away from pulling out of my grip. I tightened my hold on her and tugged her gently, which caused her to stumble then recover to match my stride.

  Charlotte was shorter than me, a difference pronounced by my stiletto heels which added four inches to my height. I felt like a school teacher, leading an unruly pupil to a harsh punishment. The thought thrilled me and I quickened my pace.

  Behind us, Christa, Beth and Chloe walked quietly behind us, their heads bowed. I knew that each girl was inwardly hoping that she would be the one to deflower this pretty virgin, that it would be her tongue to find its way between her long legs to that sweet, innocent pussy.

  We reached the second floor landing and I stepped briskly across to my bedroom, throwing the door open and walking into the dimly lit room. I tugged Charlotte along behind me, then released her hand in the center of the room, leaving her standing alone at the end of the bed. She looked bewildered and nervous, a bristling and palpable sense of excitement and fear animating her young face.

  I turned to face her and sat down in the window seat, crossing my legs and settling down to enjoy the steamy show that was about to unfold. Not for the first time, I suppressed a shudder as the reality of my life dawned on me anew. I was not born to this, did not have the privilege of birth that many others enjoyed. I was not naturally sexual or dominant and had lived my life in the shadow of my late husband before my curious awakening. Yet, here I was, exceptionally wealthy, a lesbian mistress with a harem of willing slave girls. I held this young, pretty girl’s future in my hands, could mould her how I wanted, could use her how I pleased. And she wanted it! She needed and craved it! I felt a warm rush in my pussy, a hot surge that caused me to exhale sharply.

  “Beth, Chloe, on the bed,” I said, pointing to the large, four-poster bed across the room.

  “Yes, mistress,” said Chloe and Beth as one, then stepped over to the opulent bed and climbed up onto the mattress. The two girls slid across the satin comforter and turned to face me, curling up together with a familiarity that was touching and highly erotic. I watched as Chloe’s hand found Beth’s stockinged thigh, lightly caressing the soft nylon fabric, her fingertips finding their way to the lace top of the hosiery and the soft flesh of Beth’s upper leg. Beth turned to her slave-sister and touched her lips lightly to the redhead’s.

  I glanced around and found Cha
rlotte watching the tender scene with rapt attention. Her hands were crossed before her and her fingers were idly twirling together with a nervous energy. Her lips were parted, lending her face a look of sultry arousal. I suspected that all thoughts of fleeing were long gone from her mind.

  “Christa,” I said, relaxing back into the seat, “please help Charlotte get more comfortable,” I commanded.

  Christa nodded and turned her attention to the young college student, a hungry look on her face. The tall blonde was by far the most outwardly sexual of my dolls. She was a predator, a perfectly sculpted mechanism, designed for pleasure. Her hair was long and fair, her lips full and red. She had large, full breasts with enticingly pink nipples that stood up from her flesh with granite hardness. Her body was long and toned, with endlessly long legs and slender arms. Between her thighs, a perfectly smooth, unblemished geography with a neat, pink line that drew the eye and concealed such delicious delights. Of all my girls, Christa was the most kinky, the most sensual, she had the most diverse tastes - a love of female feet, a strong need to be spanked and an insatiable desire for pretty, young virgins.

  Charlotte turned to Christa and watched her approach, her eyes wide with nervous tension. Christa was nearly a foot taller than her in her heels and Charlotte gazed up at her like a deer in headlights.

  Christa raised a slender, manicured finger to her lips. “Sssh,” she breathed with a sultry smile. “I won’t hurt you.”

  Charlotte gasped and took a small step backwards, then Christa was behind her, holding her upper arms lightly, teasing her hands up and down the trembling girl’s body. Charlotte looked ahead, her eyes fixed on some distant point in space, frozen with fear as Christa toyed with her.

  “Just her clothes please Christa,” I purred, anticipating Christa’s intent and wanting to remind her who was in charge here.

  Christa’s head lowered slightly and her sultry smile faded. “Yes, mistress,” she replied, breathing her words into Charlotte’s ear. The young blonde shivered and exhaled, closing her eyes and leaning back into Christa’s grip. On the bed, Beth and Chloe writhed together, arms and legs coiling around the other’s body, groping and caressing, neither girl taking her eyes off Charlotte.

  Christa slowly stepped around the young blonde, teasing her finger across Charlotte’s full breasts. She stopped to stand in front of her, turning her body until they faced each other, faces inches apart as Christa looked down at the pretty student. There was an intolerable tension between the two girls. A broiling sexual hunger from Christa, and a flinching trepidation from Charlotte. But there wasn’t just fear in the trembling kitten… there was also lust, a powerful desire that was plainly articulated by her wide eyes.

  Finally, Christa reached up and teased the zipper of Charlotte’s pink hoodie. Then, with an exaggerated and sensual sweep of her hands, she pushed the top off Charlotte’s shoulders, stroking her hands down the blonde’s bare arms. Charlotte shuddered and sighed, closing her eyes as she was touched for the first time. She began to breathe quicker; short, sharp pants that spoke of an inner urgency. Christa hooked her fingers into the waist of the girl’s t-shirt and peeled the tight, white garment up her body. Without a single word of resistance, Charlotte raised her arms and allowed Christa to pull the t-shirt over her head. The pristine cotton clothing was tossed to the floor with the hoodie, forgotten amid the rising tension between the two girls.

  I gazed at Charlotte’s revealed body. Her pale, pristine skin and the soft rise of her full breasts, captured globes in the white cotton of her juvenile bra. I longed to see more of her, to view and inspect the pretty student. I would soon get my chance.

  On the bed, Chloe and Beth began to kiss, hot red lips sliding together with a lazy intimacy. Chloe’s hand lifted to Beth’s face, cradling the brunette’s cheek in her palm. There was something palpable in the air now, a thick sense of need and desire between the four girls, and emanating from myself. The sapphic energy seemed to push my dolls together, to fuel their lusts and drive them towards each other. They were insatiable, unquenchable.

  In the center of the room, Christa dropped to a squat, a controlled descent in which she never once broke eye contact with Charlotte. With skillful fingers, the tall blonde flicked open the button of Charlotte’s jeans, then whipped the zipper down. Charlotte gasped at the sudden motion, raising her hands to her mouth, covering her breasts with her arms as though suddenly aware of her partial nakedness. Before she could resist further, Christa reached up and tugged her jeans down her legs, not slowed by the tight denim.

  Charlotte staggered and nearly fell, but recovered to pull her foot from her jeans, leaving her white sneaker behind. She stepped back again, freeing herself completely. Christa brushed aside the discarded bundle of clothes and shoes, and pushed herself up to stand. Then she stepped forward to stand in front of Charlotte once more, reaching down to touch the trembling girl’s chin and lift her face towards her.

  They made quite the pair, I observed with captivated interest. Christa, the tall, blonde, vampish sex kitten, tall black heels and sheer stockings; and Charlotte, standing there in her white cotton underwear and ankle socks, the picture of untarnished innocence. But for all their differences, the two girls shared a common facet - desire. They both gazed at each other with hungry longing, a longing derived from different beginnings, but longing nevertheless.

  “Beautiful,” I said, breaking the unbearable silence. Charlotte lowered her gaze to the side and blushed furiously, snapped back into reality by a sudden awareness of her exposure. “Christa, take Charlotte to the bed. Introduce her to your slave-sisters,” I purred.

  Christa smiled, sensing that what she wanted the most was growing near. She reached out her hand, an intriguing mirror of the hand I’d offered Charlotte earlier. This time there was no indecision, and Charlotte placed her hand in Christa’s, like a child trusting herself to a responsible adult. The pair of them turned and stepped across the room to the bed, causing Beth and Chloe to break their lazy kiss and study the two newcomers as they approached. The two girls shifted, uncoiling their long limbs, and lifted up on their knees, turning to face the approaching blondes. A sensual welcoming committee.

  The pair reached the bed and Christa lifted her hand, inviting Charlotte to climb up onto the bed. Charlotte looked at the taller girl with nervous trepidation, biting her lower lip. She paused for a second, then lifted her legs and slid up onto the mattress, crawling forwards to kneel before Beth and Chloe. Christa joined her, kneeling behind her, an overpoweringly tall presence.

  Charlotte’s pale white innocence seemed to disappear into the boiling sea of female flesh, black nylon and long hair. My three dolls were on her in an instant, hands pawing at the newcomer, caressing her breasts, her legs, her neck. Charlotte’s bra disappeared in a flash, casually tossed aside with a sigh and whimper. Then she was on her back, pushed down with a gentle shove by Chloe. At her midriff, Beth teased her panties down her legs, pulling them over her feet and lifting them to her face to inhale the scent of Charlotte’s desire.

  Beth tossed the underwear aside and my three girls studied the naked blonde who cowered before them on the bed, naked but for her ankle socks. There was a hunger there, a predatory longing that was seconds away from unleashing the energy of their lusts. But they held back, awaiting my permission, seeking my blessing before they led this innocent young virgin to her new life of utter pleasure.

  I paused, studying the three and Charlotte between them. Beth - the winsome brunette, my first doll, so captivating and delicate, yet brimming with sexuality. Chloe - the regal redhead with the entitled pout, a high society brat plucked from her world of privilege and wealth to devote herself to her longings. And Christa - the tall, sensual lawyer, driven and controlled, a being that existed for sex.

  With a sultry smile, I clicked my fingers and the three girls pounced on Charlotte; hot, red lips finding youthful flesh, mouths on mouths, tongues on breasts, and Christa, the unspoken hierarchy yielding the pr
ivilege of pussy to the commanding blonde. This is mine, the sultry beauty said without a single word and the other two girls capitulated, finding other body parts to focus their actions - a nipple, a foot, a mouth. With her competition vanquished, Christa pulled Charlotte’s legs apart and shifted between her knees. She gazed down at the writhing student as her slave-sisters devoured her, and then she smiled, a knowing look of control and dominance. With a casual flick of her hair, she lowered her body and touched her mouth to Charlotte’s virgin pussy.

  From somewhere beneath the writhing scrum of female flesh, my latest acquisition screamed out, a keening cry of utter pleasure and total submission.

  I watched Christa’s ass bob back and forth before me as she explored the unfamiliar geography of Charlotte’s wet cunt, and I found myself remembering… thinking back to the first time I saw the tall blonde lawyer, and the strange circumstances in which she found her way into my ownership.

  Chapter 2: The Hearing

  Before

  “And so I ask you, Mrs Ross, do you really think this is at all credible?”

  I blinked and looked around the table. I hadn’t been listening to the question and the sudden mention of my name startled me into attention. I turned to the middle-aged lawyer sitting opposite me; a stuffy, grey, non-descript individual with a cheap suit and a two month old haircut. He was grinning at me with yellowed teeth and a sleazy expression on his face. Beside him, his co-counsel, a pretty blonde with a tight ponytail and large glasses. She glared at me with an impatient stare, her lips pulled tight.

  Eric Danvers and Christa Black, the two reprehensible legal representatives of Beulah Ross-Johnson, the rotund sister of my late husband Jeremy. I glanced away from the pair of lawyers and looked at the corpulent Beulah, fanning herself with a sheet of paper. She was glistening with sweat, her face pinched into a constant scowl. She had a particular look that certain larger people had, one of perpetual anger and entitlement, and she glared at me as I struggled to answer the question.