by Ella Ford
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 eye 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 ins
atiable 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 cancel 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.
Eventually, fate decided for me and the call ended, consigning my best friend to the modern day snub of voicemail. I breathed a sigh of relief and stared at the phone, daring it to ring again. It remained silent, and I was about to set it down once more.
Then it sprang into life again. Buzz buzz buzz. It danced in my hand and I almost dropped it in fright. I stared at it again, the dawning realization that Anna would not let this go so easily rising in my mind.
“Answer it,” came a voice from across the room, and I glanced up, afraid to see what I already knew. Standing in the doorway was CJ, as pristine and as sharp as ever, her hands resting on her hips and her stockinged legs spread apart in a stance that reminded me of a headmistress. She had a peculiar smile on her face that seemed to be both amused and annoyed in equal measure.
I looked at the phone as it vibrated in my hands, knowing that I was not going to get out of this so easily. With trembling fingers, I flicked the answer button and held the handset to my ear.
“H-hi Anna,” I stammered, aware that my voice seemed thin and reedy.
“Leanne? Is that you? Are you okay?” She sounded genuinely concerned, borderline frantic but also relieved to finally hear from me.
I glanced up at CJ, who continued to glare at me.
“I’m fine Anna, it’s good to hear from you,” I said truthfully.
“Where are you honey?” she asked, adopting the same tone that a parent might use when a wayward teen called home from a forbidden party.
“I’m... “ I began, and paused, not sure what to say, “I have a new job, everything’s fine. No need to worry.”
“Okay, if…” I didn’t get to hear what Anna replied, as CJ stepped across the room and grabbed the phone from my hands. The icy blonde stepped back and held the handset up in front of her, then flicked the speakerphone function on.
“... about you.” finished Anna, her harried voice echoing through the room.
“Hello Anna,” said CJ with a smirk.
Anna paused and the line went silent. “Who is this? Leanne, are you still there?” she finally said.
“My name is CJ Goddard, I’m Leanne’s employer. I can assure you that everything is fine here. Leanne is proving to be quite an accomplished employee,” she said with a lurid smirk. She was clearly enjoying this a great deal, relishing my squirming embarrassment. I wondered how far she’d go, how quickly this shrouded innuendo would become less subtle.
“Oh,” said Anna, sounding surprised, “could you put Leanne back on please, I want to talk to her?” She sounded angry.
“Leanne can’t come to the phone right now,” she said and flicked her finger downwards to her feet. I recognized this as signal that she wanted attention and I groaned inwardly. Despite my reluctance, despite my embarrassment, I found myself compelled to obey. I slid forward off the bed to the floor, kneeling before her. Then I bent my body at the waist and lowered my mouth to her feet, touching my lips against the soft material of her sheer pantyhose. “She’s busy with her chores,” added CJ above me. Even facing her feet and the floor, I swore I could sense the satisfied grin that spread across her face.
“I’m not…” stuttered Anna in reply. “I don’t like this…” she started.
“Listen, Anna, dear. There’s nothing strange happening, she’s simply working for me and busy with other tasks. Why don’t you come to visit? We’ve nothing to hide,” she purred and my heart sank. I didn’t want Anna to see me like this, kneeling before another woman, reduced to nothing more than a willing sex slave. I didn’t feel shame in my position, but I didn’t want my best friend to know about it. At least not yet.
Anna paused again, her shock clearly evident. “O-okay,” she said, “I’ll come,” and I realized that Anna had submitted to CJ in her own way, such was the force of her personality.
“Excellent,” replied CJ, sounding genuinely pleased, “can we expect you at six?”
I felt a sudden rush of panic. Anna was going to come here? She was going to see me like this? A surge of vertigo swept through me and I stopped kissing my mistress’s feet, pausing with my lips on the soft warmth of her skin.
“Sure,” continued Anna. She sounded a little confused, as though she was as surprised by the outcome of the conversation as I was. “Will you send me the address?”
“Of course dear, I’ll have Leanne text you right away,” CJ said. “Goodbye for now,” she finished and flicked the phone with her fi
nger, ending the call.
I sat back on my heels and gazed up at her imploringly. “Please mistress, I don’t want…”
“You don’t want your friend to see you like the submissive slut you are?” she said, lowering herself down to squat in front of me. She reached up and touched my cheek with her hand, a gentle caress that instantly soothed me. “Oh Leanne, I wouldn’t do anything to embarrass you. Don’t you trust me?” she said demurely, and I felt myself melting into her touch, lulled by her tone.
“Y-yes, mistress,” I said.
“You may wear your old uniform tonight. I don’t think it would be appropriate to meet your friend looking like my personal sex slave, do you?” she said reassuringly.
“No, mistress,” I whispered, feeling strangely ashamed of my reluctance.
She nodded twice, then stood, straightening her pin sharp skirt and blouse. “Very well, I’ll see you at five.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, leaving me kneeling on the floor feeling bewildered and confused.
The remaining hours of the afternoon raced by in the blink of an eye and I found myself increasingly agitated. I saw nothing more of either CJ or Sarah, and stayed in my room, inwardly dreading the visit of my friend.
As six approached, I undressed from the sexy maid uniform and took a quick shower, then pulled my old, practical uniform from the closet and placed it on the bed. I sighed as I studied the sensible, black dress and the comfortable, flat shoes. It wasn’t particularly attractive, but the outfit felt nostalgic to me, an emotive relic of a simpler life. With a heavy heart, I slipped into the dress and pulled on the pantyhose, then tied the white apron around my waist. Then I sat down on the edge of the bed and closed my eyes, attempting to calm myself for the coming trial.
