by Ella Ford
My mind raced, rushing to process these new feelings as I kissed a woman for the first time. I longed to crystalize this moment forever, to savor every precious detail. The velvety softness of her skin against mine, the slick wetness of her lips and tongue, the taste of her mouth, fresh and alive. I craved her like an addict craves his fix, wanted nothing other than her at that moment. All thoughts of reluctance or trepidation were banished in the furious maelstrom of our passion.
And then I felt her hand work its way down my body, caressing my stomach, my hips, my thighs, then finding its quarry between my legs. I gasped, pausing on her mouth as her fingers parted my labia and began to delve deep into my throbbing pussy. A wave of pleasure washed over me, radiating outwards from my loins and igniting my torso and limbs. I clutched her tighter, pulling her towards me with fevered intensity.
Then I felt her fingertips brush against my clitoris and my universe collapsed down to this single focal point, the perfect contact of our mouths and my pussy. I allowed her to begin her work. Nervous and reluctant at first, she set about her exploration with trepidation, identifying landmarks and noting the terrain. But then she picked up pace, gathering confidence as she found my trigger points and exploited them mercilessly.
I felt myself become frozen, breathing deeply, mouth stationary on hers, unwilling yet to relinquish that electric touch. Her fingertips moved in swift circles, alternately pressing and rubbing at my aching clit. I cried out with increasingly frequency, soft pants that voiced my desire. My hand fell to her neck and I began to kiss her frantically again, rewarding her with my tongue for every glorious touch of her fingers.
Distantly, I became aware of a looming entity within me. Some irresistible point of no return that I strived for and turned away from with equal fervor. At once it was on me, begging for attention, clamoring for the sweet kiss of release and the warm hug of climax. But I resisted for as long as I could, not wanting this moment to end, not wanting to be free of her hands, her mouth, her whole body. I wanted us to be joined, to become a single entity, skin swallowing skin. But my resistance was in vain and the lure of the orgasm became too much.
I took one final deep breath, then held it, a final stand against the forces that lay siege to me. Then I surrendered and released myself into the waiting maelstrom. I screamed out as it took hold of me, my voice shrill and loud in the pristine bathroom.
Sarah wrapped her arm around me, her other hand still locked tightly on my exploding pussy. She pulled me closed, maximising the points of contact on our slippery skin, hoping to share in my moment of pure pleasure.
The orgasm raged inside me, sending my thoughts skyward and obliterating my senses in a blossoming sphere of white noise. I arched my spine and pushed my head back, my neck straining against the storm within. I felt as though it was too much, the energy too intense for me to internalize and process. I feared that it might eat me alive, and a distant part of me welcomed the prospect of black oblivion.
But in time, it left me and I collapsed forward against Sarah, my body melting into hers. She caressed my back with light strokes of her nails and I shuddered at every touch, every nerve ending still aflame with the memory of the fading storm.
As I recovered, I was suddenly overcome with a feeling of guilt and shame. The fading ember of my pleasure being replaced by a nagging feeling of doubt and regret.
I pulled away from her, barely able to look her in the face. I stood and swung my legs over the side of the bath, dripping water everywhere.
“What’s wrong Leanne?” she asked, sounding concerned and nervous. “Did I do something wrong?”
“N-no,” I stuttered, “this… this was wrong… I shouldn’t…”
But that was all I could manage. I bent down and scooped up my clothes and shoes, then hurried through the door and back to my room.
What had I done?
Chapter 4
Looking back, I realize that the rational thing would have been to leave. To simply pack my bag, call a taxi and find my way back to my old life and my simple hopes and dreams. But I didn’t, and that speaks volumes to me now.
Instead, I soldiered on, spending the whole of the following day going about my business, completing my chores and avoiding any contact with Sarah whatsoever. I tried not to think about the previous night, and what we’d done. I guess I hoped that if I ignored it, the foreign feelings and intense emotions would go away and it would all be forgotten about. How naive.
Later that day, CJ arrived home. It was after I’d finished work and I didn’t leave my room to greet her. Instead, I watched TV for a while then fell asleep, still wearing my uniform.
Hours later, I woke suddenly, roused from my sleep by a distant sound. I yawned and screwed up my eyes, then tilted my head to the side in concentration, struggling to hear the noise again.
Swish-crack, came the sound again. It was tiny and faint, barely audible over the constant sound of the garden insects. I wondered what it could be. Maybe an animal had gotten in the house and was rummaging through the laundry room? But it didn’t sound like that, it was too rhythmic and regular.
Swish-crack. I heard it again, clearer this time. I stood up, any thought of sleep now replaced by curiosity and a need to know what was causing the peculiar sound. I tiptoed over to the door and pressed my ear against it.
Swish-crack. It seemed to be coming from the hallway, in the direction of the front door. I stepped back, pondering what to do. I didn’t want to wake CJ or Sarah, but I had to know what was happening. With nervous trepidation, I opened the door and stepped out into the hall, then padded lightly towards the living room end of the house.
As I approached the main entrance, I became aware of something strange. The door to the basement was slightly ajar and a faint warm light was spilling out through the tiny crack. I stopped, shocked at this discrepancy. Hadn’t CJ said that the light down there was broken? And what was someone doing down there at this time of night? Was it a burglar? Should I call the police?
I looked around, wondering if either of my employers had woken up, but no-one seemed to be stirring.
Swish-crack. The same noise, louder this time, and definitely coming from the direction of the basement.
I sighed and stepped forward towards the sound, simultaneously terrified and curious. I reached the door and gripped the handle, touching it nervously as though I feared it might be scalding hot. Then I pulled it open quickly and jumped back.
I sighed in relief as I was confronted by a staircase and nothing more. There was a door at the bottom and a single lightbulb hanging above the steps. The far door was closed tightly, and I swore I could hear the light murmur of voices behind it.
Against my better judgement, I stepped forward again and descended the staircase, taking light steps with my flat shoes on the bare wood of the steps. I reached the bottom without making a sound and pushed my ear against the door, straining to make out the sounds from within. I heard a woman talking, but could not make out her words.
It must be CJ or Sarah, or both. But what were they doing at this time of night? My curiosity burned like a supernova and I was desperate to know more, but I knew that it was none of my business. I turned to leave and placed a single foot on the bottom step.
Creak! The stair cried out as I placed my weight on it and I froze in place. The light buzz of conversation behind the door stopped abruptly and I felt my heart skip a beat as I realized that I was caught.
“Come in please Leanne,” said a firm voice from the other side. It was CJ, I would recognize that husky tone anywhere. I considered running, making my way back to my room and then packing a bag and leaving. This house was too weird, too intense. But I remained in place. “I know you’re there. Why don’t you come in and join us? Sarah would be very happy to see you,” she added, and I realized then that CJ knew about what had happened.
Every instinct told me to flee, to take the stairs two at time and never look back. Instead, I found myself driven by another urge, a dif
ferent instinct. I turned to face the door and gripped the handle, and pushed my way in.
As I entered the basement, two things struck me. First, the decor. The basement was not the musty collection of boxes and possessions that I’d expected. Instead, it was done out in a plush, elegant style. Every wall was deep burgundy and clad to waist height with rich mahogany paneling. A pair of chairs and a chaise longue lined the walls, quilted in plush dark velvet that screamed of opulence. On every surface, a candle burned, proving the only light in the dim room. These flickering flames caused the shadows in the room to dance and twitch. And, most unusual of all, hanging form the walls, on a multitude of hooks and fixings, were implements - objects that appeared to have only one purpose: the infliction of pain and pleasure.
My eyes flicked around, unable to settle on one thing at a time. One wall seemed to be dedicated to sex toys. A parade of dildos and vibrators and other objects that I couldn’t identify. A gaudy display of debauchery that seemed at odds with the tasteful decor in the room. Another wall contained nothing but whips and floggers; harsh leather handles and trailing cords that fell down the wall in a cascade of filaments.
When the shock of my surroundings faded, my eyes settled on the two occupants of the room and I gasped anew.
Standing in the center was CJ. She looked utterly different to her normal appearance, wearing an outfit that was dark and alluring. On her body, she wore a dark crimson corset, pulled tight around her waist, her full breasts spilling out over the top of the garment. Her legs were clad in sheer, black nylon stockings and she wore tall black pumps with a spiked stiletto heel. Her face was heavily made-up, with dark, smokey eyes and rich, dark lips that gave her a gothic appearance and contrasted sharply with her short shock of blonde hair. In her hand, she was holding one of the floggers, waving it lazily back and forth as she studied me.
As I watched, she turned her face to Sarah, as though inviting me to follow her gaze. I turned my head and looked at the brunette, too numb to react to what I saw.
CJ’s lover was lying with her back on a raised bench. She was completely naked with her arms tied under her with a complex harness of ropes around her chest. Her legs were tied as well, her ankles secured to her thighs with three turns of rope that was cinched in the middle to prevent it slipping. Her bound legs were then held up and back by trailing lengths of cord that were tied to the far end of. The effect was to force her legs open and wide, revealing the inviting pink of her pussy and the gaping chasm of her ass. I strained to see her face, and she turned her head to me. I gasped as I realized that she was wearing a ball gag, a bright red sphere held between her teeth. A thin strand of drool snaked from the corner of her mouth to the table below.
“Beautiful isn’t she?” asked CJ with a wry smile.
I remained completely silent, not knowing what to say, what to think, what to do.
“Did you enjoy your bath last night?” she said, turning towards me, studying me for a hint of a reaction.
I felt a warm flush rise up my chest and neck, spreading to my face. “I…” was all I could manage to say.
“Oh don’t worry. Sarah was just doing as I told her to,” she purred.
“I-I don’t understand,” I said, realizing how painfully naive and idiotic I sounded.
CJ stepped over to me and I didn’t attempt to back away, knowing that it would be pointless, but also rooted to the spot for another reason… She stood before me and lightly stroked the back of her fingers down my cheek. I sighed at her touch and closed my eyes.
“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.
