Lesbian BDSM Mega Bundle

by Ella Ford

  Thwack! The slap landed on her flesh and the sound reverberated around the room. The girls at the end of the bed all gasped in unison, but otherwise didn’t flinch. They were well trained, and no strangers to the punishments that were sometimes necessary in the house.

  “Th-thank you, mistress,” breathed Chloe, shaking with the force of the blow and the super-charged sexual energy in the room.

  I lightly teased her bottom, making light scratches on the tender skin with my fingernails. She shuddered and sighed. Then I lifted my hand again and struck her once more, harder this time, with more force.

  Thwack! came the slap, then milliseconds later Chloe’s cry of pain. “Ah!” she screamed, lifting her head back.

  “Th-thank you, mistress,” she sobbed again and I believed she meant it. There was a subtle lilt to her voice, an expression of something deeper. Pain, yes, most certainly, but something else, a deep seated need to be here, in this position.

  I stroked her ass, soothing the pink flesh with my palm until I was sure that she was ready. Then I lifted my hand and paused. Chloe’s body went rigid, her feet raised up on tiptoes and she inhaled deeply. I held my hand there for endless seconds, enjoying the feeling of power and control, the tension in Chloe’s body, the rising core of warmth in my own pussy. Then I swung my hand in a wide arc, striking the redhead’s firm, pink ass on the same place as before. She screamed out as the blow landed, then I lifted my hand without waiting and struck her again, and again, and a fourth time. Each time, the sharp thwack! echoed around the room, each time Chloe’s body jolted forward, a desperate attempt to escape the pain and discomfort, each time she cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks.

  As the barrage of blows subsided, her body collapsed on my lap, her arms unable to take her weight anymore. She was shaking, breathing heavily and sobbing lightly.

  “Th-thank you, mistress,” she whispered, barely audible in the silent room.

  I grabbed her ponytail and pulled her back, feeling the energy of control and dominance flowing through my body. She yelped and lifted her hands, allowing herself to be dragged to the floor on her knees.

  I stood towering over the diminished girl as she cowered at my feet, cheeks streaky with tears and glowing with desire and shame. Then I reached down and lifted my dress, pulling the flowing white fabric up over my waist. I held it there with one hand, and with the other, wrestled my panties down my legs, kicking them to one side with a skillful kick of my heel. Then I turned to her, animated by a furious energy that I had seldom experienced before. I felt unbearably powerful and supremely in control. I wanted to fuck this spoiled bitch until she begged me to stop.

  She peered up at me, eyes locked on my pussy, panting heavily.

  “Beg for it,” I snarled, nearly breathless myself. I lifted my leg and rested my foot on the side of the bed so that my sex was exposed and visible. I wanted her to see how wet I was, I wanted her to crave the hot taste of me.

  “Please, mistress…” she began, her voice low and timid.

  “Louder!” I spat, reaching down and grabbing her hair, pulling her up to her knees so that her face was inches from what she wanted.

  “Please, mistress,” she said, more insistent this time, nearly shouting, “please, mistress, may I eat your pussy?”

  I could hold it in no longer and fell back on the bed, still clutching her hair. She was dragged along with me, jumping up to kneel beside me on the mattress, hungry eyes prowling over my body.

  I shifted around, swinging a foot over her so that she was positioned between my legs. Then, without allowing a single second for her to catch her breath, I pulled her head down onto me, locking her mouth in place on my dripping pussy.

  She attacked me with vigor and furious purpose, knowing exactly what she wanted and how to get it. Her tongue plunged between my lips, snaking around without focus or direction. She seemed possessed by a need that couldn’t be fulfilled, driven by instinct and desire and raw, feminine lust. She pushed forwards, gathering her body until she was pushed up against me. Her arms coiled around my legs with serpentine grace, pushing my knees back and lifting my hips off the bed. All the while, her hungry mouth did its work; probing, lapping, licking, sucking, biting.

  I howled out loud as wave after wave of electric pleasure roared through my body. She was unstoppable, relentless, an exquisite force of sapphic energy, focused on only one thing: me.

  I lifted my arms, hooking them around my knees, holding my legs back to free up Chloe’s hand. She reacted instantly, dropping her arms, snaking one of them up my body to roughly grab at my breast, kneading the soft orb insistently. With the other, she plunged her fingers into my pussy hole. First one, then two, then three, each addition stretching my opening with maddening effect.

  I began to thrash about on the bed, unable to handle the wild sensations that were flowing through me. The roughness of her hand on my breast, the feeling of being entered endlessly, the slick piston on her arm pounding me mercilessly.And the relentless action of her tongue, finally finding its focus on my throbbing clitoris.

  I pushed my head back and wailed, opening my eyes briefly to find my dolls had left their kneeling positions and were frantically fucking on the floor behind me. Christa’s head was buried in Mai’s pussy; Sarah was squatting over Beth’s head, her own face an expression of pure ecstasy as the shy intern devoured her pussy from below.

  The scene of sexual release caused an earthquake in my body, primed by the intense action of Chloe’s mouth and detonated by the writhing, entwined bodies behind me. I shifted my hands and grabbed Chloe’s head, locking her in place, pulling her down onto myself. I began to grind my hips up with a rhythmic roll, smearing my dripping pussy against the redhead’s face, using her mouth, her chin, her nose to stimulate me yet further.

  The girl tried to keep up, matching her licks with the beat of my body as I rode her face. She cried out, overwhelmed by the feeling of being used. And this made me ride her harder, dragging her across my pussy, pressing her down on my clit with furious energy until the looming spectre of my orgasm made itself known.

  From behind me, someone cried out, a voice I recognized but couldn’t place. Was it Sarah? Coming on Beth’s sweet face? Was it Christa? Beth? Mai? It didn’t matter, they were all one and the same. One doll’s pleasure was shared by all, and they’d all be satisfied in time.

  My attention returned to my own frantic crescendo, pushed back momentarily by the orgasmic screams behind me, but now raging hard and building fast. I tried to push it away, tried to maintain my focus, but it was no good. A switch flicked in my body, turning off the circuits that provided self-control. At once, every mechanism and component of my entire being was overwhelmed by the raging inferno of the orgasm as it broke inside me. A furious wind of pure sexual energy roared out from my pussy, overloading my nerves and flooding my mind with wave after wave of pure pleasure.

  I heard myself scream out, begging Chloe to stop, imploring her to continue. But my voice felt distant and faint, belonging to somewhere else. My consciousness felt trapped in the eye of the hurricane, locked within this whirling maelstrom of lust. I pulled at Chloe’s head, dragging her deeper onto me, smothering her with my sex. She fought against me, shaking her shoulders and pulling back, but her strength was no match for the enormous tension that animated my muscles.

  And then the switch was reversed and the raging energy left my body. I sighed as I felt myself deflate, skin slick with perspiration, my dress a dishevelled mess.

  Chloe sat back and wiped a curly lock of red hair off her dripping forehead, her mouth and nose glistening with the wetness of my desire. She rested back on her heels, then without thinking, crossed her arms behind her back and studied me with a curious expression that I’d seen before. Adoration and capitulation.

  Epilogue

  Before

  I lead Chloe downstairs to the viewing room. She was wearing her collar, as she would most of the time from now on, and her hair was down around her s
houlders. I’d attached one of the leather leashes to the silver ring at her neck and she walked silently several paces behind me. There was a look of docile acceptance and contentment on her face.

  Earlier in the day, she’d called her Aunt Tabitha and told her that she was taking an unexpected trip to Bali with a boy she’d met. She’d assured her that the boy was from a good family, and that they wanted to catch a polo tournament together. Tabitha had reluctantly accept her willful niece’s story and agreed to tell her parents where she was. But Chloe’s situation was very different to anything that her awful aunt could ever imagine.

  The other girls were already in position, posing on their plinths like roman statues. Beth, my first, with her sweet expression and gentle innocence; Mai, the maid, a sexual servant who was meant to please; Christa, the vamp, resplendent in black stockings and sharp heels, bright lipstick and dark eyes; and Sarah, the virgin, head bowed, wearing a lacy white negligee with sheer, white stockings and flat shoes.

  Each girl stood in a different pose, each stance reflecting their position and nature.

  As I lead Chloe through the room, her eyes flicked between the other girls. There was a curiosity there, a hungry need. But also a confusion. She didn’t yet appreciate what she’d stumbled into, what she was now a part of.

  At once, she saw the empty plinth and pulled back on the leash. The plinth was onyx black and eighteen inches tall, a wide cylinder that beckoned us towards it.

  “No, I can’t, I’m…” she stuttered and I looked at her. Her expression faltered as she realized that she could, and that it was what she’d always wanted. She lowered her hands from the leash and bowed her head. All trace of the brat that I’d met all those weeks ago was gone, at least for now.

  I lead her onwards and stopped beside the empty plinth, lifting her leash until she stepped up onto the ebony cylinder. She turned on the spot and looked around, studying the other girls.

  I reached up and handed her the leash. She gripped it in both hands, holding it out in front of her in a gesture of submissive offering, then she bowed her head and lowered her eyes, freezing in place. My collected, collared, slave-girl brat.

  THE END

  Collecting Christa, Curious Lawyer

  by Ella Ford

  Chapter 1: Sharing

  Now

  Sometimes, I like to share my collection. I was raised right - in this regard at least - and I believe that some things are best enjoyed with another person. I’m not one of these collectors who keeps her pieces in a darkened attic, only taking them out once in awhile to gingerly touch and caress them before putting them away until the next full moon.

  My collection of living dolls exists for my enjoyment and satisfaction, so it wouldn’t make sense to hide them away. Whenever possible, I like to show them off, to offer them around. Oh, don’t get me wrong, my intentions are not entirely honorable. I derive an enormous amount of satisfaction from watching my girls fuck an outsider, seeing them expertly seduce an unsuspecting visitor, introducing her to the intense world of pleasure that I have constructed. Watching her leave my home bewildered and dazed, the cooling glow of climax still lighting her pretty face.

  Do I worry that my guests will cause trouble for me? That they’ll return to their lives and tell of Claudia’s Ross’s docile harem of female sexual servants? It is a risk, certainly, but one that is worth taking. Because more often than not, my visitors return home to conservative lives in small-minded communities, the kind of places that have pitchforks on standby at all times, and are never more than one wild-eyed accusation from forming a village mob. If the upstanding wives and mothers of such a community heard stories of pussy licking and erotic love between women, their frothing vendetta would start far closer to home than my remote mansion.

  So, they keep quiet, for the most part. And those that don’t… well, let’s just say that I haven’t been troubled too much by their loose lips.

  But for all the intense gratification I derive from throwing a straight, inexperienced amateur into my boiling pool of lesbian desire, there is another reason I take such a daring risk.

  Sometimes - rarely but with enough frequency to make it worthwhile - I chance upon a new piece to add to my collection. An unexpected finding, like stumbling on a complete set of Beatles records in a musty basement, or a previously unknown Dali sketch at a garage sale. With some girls, there is a palpable click when they learn the truth of my life, when they see the wide-eyed contentment on the faces of my dolls, the hungry look of desire as they appraise my latest offering. Their resistance and reluctance fades in an instant, giving way to need, lust, longing. I can tell in an instant which girls want to belong to me, I rarely need to ask.

  Of course, some girls leave no room for doubt…

  ---

  “Tell me a little bit about yourself,” I asked, taking a sip of my tea. “Charlotte, was it?”

  “Y-yes, Miss Ross. Charlotte Monroe,” she said, pressing her hands into her lap on the sofa across from me. She hadn’t touched the tea I’d made her, and was staring intently at the floor between us. “I’m twenty years old, a biochemistry major at Midtown U. From Maine originally, but my parents moved to Virginia when I was little.”

  She spoke with a homely twang, drawn out words and sing-song phrasing. It was quite adorable. But despite her rural tone, there was a fierce intelligence in her eyes, a calm intensity that belied her girlish appearance. She was wearing a simple outfit - a powder pink hoodie and tight, white t-shirt pulled taut over full breasts; blue jeans with white sneakers. The classic all-american girl, with strawberry blonde hair, pulled up into a casual mess at the back of her head, and deep, blue eyes.

  “Biochemistry?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. “You must be quite smart.”

  She blushed and lowered her head, obviously feeling very uncomfortable talking about herself. “I-I like science,” she said, “it makes sense to me. You know? Rules, order?”

  “You like to follow rules?” I asked.

  “Yes ma’am,” she said.

  I leaned to the side and reached over to the coffee table, then picked up a single sheet of paper with a paragraph of printed text on it.

  “Tell me about this… your Craigslist ad,” I said, holding the piece of paper out to her.

  The soft pink of her cheeks turned an angry red as her self-conscious torture continued. She exhaled deeply and her eyes darted from place to place as she fought her obvious urge to get up and leave.

  “Shall I read it out to you?” I asked rhetorically. “Curious coed first timer seeks discreet older woman to take her in hand.”

  Charlotte winced as I read each of her words.

  “Th-this was… this was a mistake,” she breathed, moving to stand.

  “Stay where you are,” I said, adopting my I-won’t-tell-you-twice voice that worked so well with my other girls. Charlotte froze instantly and straightened her back, blinking in surprise. “Why did you come here today?” I asked, lowering my tone to that of a friendly aunt.

  She sighed again and flicked her eyes in the direction of the piece of paper resting on my lap.

  “I can’t hear you,” I said calmly.

  “Because of the ad! I came because I want what it says!” she snapped.

  “You want an older woman to take you in hand?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, sitting back in the seat and crossing my legs, the soft swish of my nylon pantyhose cutting through the tension in the air as my thighs brushed together.

  “Y-yes.”

  “And you’ve never been with another woman?”

  “N-no.”

  “How do you know that’s what you want?”

  “I just… I just know,” she breathed. I sympathized. The very first time I’d seen Beth sitting in that crowded Vegas bar, I’d wanted the same thing.

  “Why not just go to a club, meet someone, like other people do?” I asked, genuinely interested and sensing a deeper need in this nervous young girl.

  “It’s hard to e
xplain, you wouldn’t understand,” she said, glancing off to the side.

  “You might be surprised,” I said with a friendly smile. “Tell me why you want an older woman to take you in hand.”

  She paused and thought for several seconds, her brow furrowed and her eyes alive with concentration as she attempted to articulate herself.

  “I guess… I guess I want to be something different to what’s expected of me, you know?” She looked up and fixed me with an intense stare, and I knew instantly what she was talking about.

  “Different to intelligent, responsible, successful… independent?” I asked, well aware that I was leading her thought.

  “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.