Lesbian BDSM Mega Bundle

by Ella Ford

  I gasped as I gazed upon the buyer’s home for the first time, suddenly forgetting my nakedness or the cold or the fading warmth on my leg from Carlos’s rough slap. The house was vast beyond my limited experience, stretching off to both sides and disappearing into the night. It was built in a classic, colonial style, with red brick and faux-greco-roman styling. It seemed grand and ostentatious. I peered around, trying to gain a sense of where were, but on all sides, I saw only darkness. The house was situated in a vast estate and surrounded by thick forest. We might have been alone in the universe, for all the difference it made.

  With a heavy feeling of apprehension and trepidation, we slowly walked towards the house and our new lives.

  ---

  “I asked you a question. Why did you hesitate?” said the buyer again, her voice less gentle this time.

  “Uh, I’m not sure…” I replied, sensing that this was a trap. I glanced around the living room, as if looking for assistance, but we were alone with the buyer now.

  The older woman had changed outfits, and was now dressed very differently indeed. Gone was the sharp, professional pant suit. Instead, she now wore black lingerie - a lacy, black bra and garter belt, with sheer black stockings and pristine, black, high-heeled pumps. She wore no panties, and seemed to take great pleasure in revealing her pussy to us whenever she sat down on the comfortable leather couch.

  “No!” she snapped, grabbing my chin and lifting my face. Then she swept her hand across my cheek, slapping me with a force that seemed restrained but no less painful. “When you address me, you say mistress. Do you understand?”

  “Y-yes… mistress,” I replied, fighting back the sobs that threatened to overwhelm me.

  “Now I’ll ask you one last time. Why did you hesitate when I asked you to kiss her?” she said, glancing over at the doctor who was kneeling beside me, her head bowed.

  “I didn’t know her, mistress. I had never kissed a woman before, mistress. I was scared, mistress,” I gushed, all of it true.

  The buyer stood up and returned to the couch, then sat down and crossed her legs. She stroked her chin and studied us.

  “Jessica, isn’t it?” she asked, sweetly. “And you? The doctor, what is your name?” she added, addressing the brunette beside me.

  “Kate, mistress,” whispered the doctor, never once lifting her head.

  The buyer smiled. “Pretty names, pretty girls,” she said with honey tones. “The pretty ones are the hardest to train, you know that?” she asked, rhetorically. Both the doctor - Kate - and I remained silent. “Pretty girls have a certain expectation. They believe that because they made the cheerleader squad in high school, that they deserve a certain... respect. Well, my pretty little things, this is not the prom and your homecoming queen days are over. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, mistress,” we both breathed.

  “You no longer have free will. You are owned. Do you know what that means?” she asked, directing the question at me.

  “That we do as you tell us, mistress,” I replied.

  “Almost, but not quite Jessica,” she said, sitting forward in her seat. “When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it without fucking thinking!” she snarled, more than a hint of menace in her voice.

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “If I ask you to kiss a girl, then you kiss her. You don’t stop to think about how you don’t know her, or how you’ve never done it before, or how scared you are. You need to be trained to obey without question or hesitation. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, mistress,” we replied in unison.

  “Pretty girls always say that,” said the buyer, settling back into the seat. “But they never mean it. Pretty girls require a special kind of training. Do you know what that means? Kate?”

  Kate swallowed. “No, mistress.”

  “I’ll show you,” she purred with a sordid smirk. Then she reached down to her left and lifted something up from the side of the couch. She held it out before her, as though presenting us with a gift. Kate gasped and sobbed, while I looked on with wide-eyed confusion.

  The object was a rough, leather wrapped handle, perhaps ten inches long. From one end there emerged a bloom of thin, leather cords, no more than an eighth of an inch wide, and a foot long.

  “This is a flogger. It will be a familiar sight for you in the coming days and weeks, however long it takes to break you. However long it takes to extinguish the fire in your eyes and have you give yourself to me utterly. Failure to satisfy me, failure to obey me, will be punished. And punishment, as far as you’re concerned, means pain. Do I make myself clear?”

  My heart was racing and my mind galloping. The reality of my situation was looming large in my thoughts. I had given up my life, which was comfortable and drab, for this degrading existence. I had swapped responsibility for pain, autonomy for punishment. To all intents and purposes, my body no longer belonged to me, I was the possession of another. The thought terrified me and thrilled me in equal measure. As I stared at the flogger, I felt a rush of fear and anticipation.

  I was ready.

  “Yes, mistress.”

  ---

  The buyer flicked the switch at the bottom of the stairs and the room beyond the door was illuminated by a dim light that gave the wide space a sinister, brooding appearance.

  Kate and I were directed into the room and we shuffled past the tall blonde woman into the basement area of the house, both of us wary and nervous. As our eyes adjusted to the new light, we surveyed the room and each of us gasped in unison.

  “Welcome to my basement - my playroom,” said the buyer with an extravagant flourish.

  I looked around with barely concealed awe, studying every feature of the strange room and its contents. The room was wide and square, with rough, brick walls and stone covered flooring. There was no hint of comfort here, nothing that suggested safety or relief. Everything was designed to intimidate or disarm the unsuspecting. On each wall, there was an array of tools or implements or fixings. Pairs of metal rings at head height, riveted to the wall with industrial efficiency. A display of whips and floggers, laid out in size order for easy retrieval. In one corner, a cage, barely big enough to fit a large dog. It was, in short, a dungeon - designed for punishment and training.

  But the strangest aspect of the basement was not the array of implements and devices. Those intimidating objects were not what made Kate and I gasp in surprise and fear. Instead, what caused us such shock was the fact that the basement was already occupied.

  Three girls, each dressed identically in sheer black stockings and black high heeled shoes, had been down here in the dark for goodness knows how long.

  One of the girls, a pretty blonde girl, was on her back on a padded bench. Her legs were open and raised, her ankles tied to her wrists with lengths of rough looking hemp. Another length of rope was fastened around her neck, securing her to the bench. Her pussy was open and exposed, filled with a moderately large vibrating dildo that periodically burst into life and buzzed inside her for ten seconds. I gazed at her face. She was drenched in sweat, the curls of her blonde hair sticking to her forehead, her mouth filled with a red ball gag that prevented her from crying out with anything other than a muffled grunt. As I looked on, the vibrator in her pussy jumped into life and her body jolted up off the bench as far as the rope would allow her. She began to moan beneath the gag, a repeated mantra that demanded release or relief.

  In the center of the room, away from the tortured blonde, were two more girls, a brunette and another blonde. This pair were standing, facing each other and kissing. They each wore a rope harness around their chests, framing their breasts provocatively and securing their arms behind their backs. From the rope harness stretched a long cord which attached their bodies to hooks in the ceiling behind each of them, forcing them up onto their tiptoes. Hanging between the two kissing girls were a pair of metallic chains, clamped at either end to each girl’s nipples. If they pulled away from each other too much, the nipp
le clamps pulled them back. Though neither one looked as though they wanted any respite, and they continued to kiss even as we entered the room, their movements sluggish and lethargic.

  A thousand thoughts rose in my mind at once as I took in the sights of the basement, a thousand curiosities and concerns. I wondered who the girls were, how they had ended up down here in the dark. I wondered how long they’d been in here, how long the standing pair had been kissing. I wondered what fate awaited Kate and I. Would our training be like this?

  In the corner, the vibrator burst into life once more and the blonde cried out, finally realizing that we were in the room with her. Her eyes became wide and pleading, begging with the buyer to be allowed to come.

  The buyer smiled at her, then turned to us. “These three are the current graduating class. You might look upon them as role models, something to aspire to. They are utterly obedient, completely mindless. They do as I tell them, without hesitation.”

  She turned away from us and stepped over to the kissing girls, then ran a hand tenderly over each girl’s bottom. The girls sighed, but didn’t stop kissing. The buyer then reached up and lightly tugged on the chain that joined the pairs’ nipples together. Each girl gasped in pain, pausing briefly but soon resuming their passionate clinch.

  “Joanne and Kaitlynn. When they first came to me, they were good little Christian girls,” the buyer began. “Each had years of religious brainwashing to overcome. It was all I could do to get them to kiss, let alone eat pussy. But we persevered, didn’t we girls?” she asked, giving the nipple chain another light tug.

  Joanne and Kaitlynn yelped and then responded in unison with a muffled, “yes, mistress.”

  “Now look at them,” she said, turning back to us. “They’ve been down here for twelve hours, kissing the whole time.”

  I wondered how she knew, how she could guarantee that the pair hadn’t stopped when she was away. But then I looked again at the pair of kissing girls and saw the answer. The pair were utterly lost in their task, focused only on the other. Their blank, fulfilled expressions told a story of utter capitulation, of complete surrender. Maybe at the start of their training they might have tried to disobey the buyer, but now, I had no doubt that they did exactly as they were told. Could I be like that? I thought to myself, and truthfully didn’t know.

  The buyer stepped away from the kissing girls and walked over to where the blonde lay prone on the bench. Once again, she brushed her fingertips tenderly over the blonde’s glistening skin. The blonde flinched as though touched with a cattle prod. She moaned and closed her eyes, suffering an unimaginable need for release, every nerve ending on fire.

  “This is Blake. Blake was a rough slut from the wrong side of the tracks, addicted to sex and bouncing from one abusive relationship to another. When she found her way to me, she had no control, giving in to her urges without even thinking about it. When I punished her, she came. When she pleasured me, she came. When she made the fucking dinner, she came. No control.”

  The buyer circled around to the back of the bench of the squatted down beside Blake’s head, blowing gently on her burning cheek.

  “So I trained her in orgasm control. We used reinforcement techniques to teach her that an orgasm was my gift to her, that only I had the power to grant her the release she so desired. If she came without my permission, she was punished. Now, she can only come when I say the magic word. Isn’t that right Blake?” whispered the buyer into Blake’s ear.

  The pretty, petite blonde turned her head and nodded, drool running from the corners of her mouth around the ball gag to collect on the bench beneath her head. She gazed at the buyer with a mix of adoration and desire, pleading with her wide, blue eyes.

  The buyer waited for the dildo to spring into life once more, then lowered her head and whispered something in Blake’s ear that I couldn’t hear. At once, Blake’s body rose up from the bench, lifted by her arching spine. She pushed her head backwards and began to pant rapidly. Her hands clenched and unclenched against her ankles, tugging at the ropes that held her in place. She began to wail, thrashing her head from side to side as the orgasm raged inside her. Then she became still, her body appearing to deflate before us. Her only remaining movement was a pained shiver whenever the dildo pulsed in her body.

  The buyer stood up and stepped around to stand between her legs, then gripped the purple length and slowly eased it out of Blake’s pussy. Blake moaned with relief as the dripping length slid from her.

  The buyer turned to us and walked over to where we stood. She lifted the purple dildo up in front of herself and studied it. It was long and thick, with intricate ripples and textures. As she held it aloft, it glistened in the dim light of the basement, still slick with Blake’s pussy juices.

  “Who wants a treat?” said the buyer sweetly, offering the dildo first to me, then Kate. Neither of us replied, both staring resolutely ahead. I felt fear rising in my stomach, threatening to cloud my mind with black panic. This was real now, as if it wasn’t before. This was my life. “Kate? Would you like a taste?” smiled the buyer, offering the dildo to Kate.

  The elegant doctor glanced at me, as if asking for permission, then nodded slowly. The buyer lifted the dildo and Kate leaned forwards, offering out her tongue and closing her eyes, fighting her inner reluctance. With a single stroke, she licked from the base of the purple shaft to the tip, tasting Blake’s sweet pussy juice for the first time. Then she wrapped her lips around the end of the dildo and began to suck it like a cock, opening her eyes and staring at the buyer for hints of a reaction.

  “Good girl,” beamed the buyer. “How does that taste?”

  Kate pulled back. “Good, mistress,” she replied. I couldn’t decide whether she was playing along or genuinely meant it.

  “Now you,” said the buyer, offering the dildo to me.

  I pushed out my tongue, mirroring Kate’s actions, and licked from the base to the tip as she had. I was immediately struck by the taste of pussy. Memories of the bathroom stall in the coffee shop rose in my mind, the recollection of Lydia’s fingers pushed deep into my mouth, my first taste of another woman. I began to suck on the tip, taking as much of the dildo into my mouth as I dared, relishing the taste of Blake’s pussy and Kate’s mouth.

  Then the buyer pulled the dildo away from me and I gasped in surprise.

  “On your fucking knees!” she spat suddenly, her voice echoing around the large room. I heard Blake inhale sharply.

  Kate and I dropped instantly down onto the rough floor of the basement. We both adopted the kneeling pose, arms crossed behind our backs. It was shocking how quickly this became second nature, perhaps a reflection of our inner natures I considered distantly.

  The buyer stepped quickly behind us. “Crawl over to Blake,” she said. We both hesitated for a single second, but it was long enough to invite the ire of the buyer. She raised her arm and brought the flogger down twice, first on my back, then on Kate’s a split second later. We both cried out in shock and pain as the harsh leather cords bit down on our naked skin. I fell forwards onto all fours and began to move towards the prone blonde. Beside me, Kate did the same, scurrying away from the flogger’s cruel bite.

  We reached the blonde and positioned ourselves between her legs, both inches away from her cooling pussy.

  “Stand up,” said the buyer urgently, then brought the flogger down on our backs once more as we began to stand. I felt hot tears well in my eyes, provoked by the sharp stinging pain on my back. I felt myself stumble, knocked off balance on the precious heels that I still wore, the last vestige of my previous life. But I regained my footing, grabbing Kate’s arm to steady myself. We both stood together over Blake, huddled together in fear and pain.

  The buyer circled us, swinging the flogger in lazy arcs around her. Her face was a mask of fury and control, she looked predatory, animalistic.

  “Take off Blake’s shoes,” she commanded.

  There was no hesitation this time. Both Kate and I fell apar
t in unison and moved to Blake’s raised feet. I took hold of the blonde’s ankle and stopped her leg from moving, then began to fiddle with the tiny buckle that held the strappy sandal in place. I glanced over at Kate doing the same, noting the pronounced tremble in her fingers as she struggled with the shoe. Finally, my hands managed to undo the strap and I slipped Blake’s shoe off her nylon covered feet. Blake flexed her toes, splaying them apart and stretching the thin fabric. I shot Kate an urgent look, fearing the punishment that both of us would face for failure.

  Kate’s hands were shaking wildly now and she was sobbing, she couldn’t find her fingers enough to undo the shoe. Both Blake and I stared at her, willing her to complete the task, a sisterly camaraderie flashing between us. The buyer circled around, moving from my side to Kate’s, sensing an opportunity to punish. Kate noticed her approach and cried out in frustration, tugging at the strap of the shoe with frantic energy.

  The buyer stepped behind her and smiled, then raised her arm, trailing the flogger’s wicked cords backwards.

  Kate tensed up in anticipation, hunching her shoulders… Then, finally, her flailing fingers found purchase and the strap slipped open. Kate sobbed in relief and slid the shoe off Blake’s pretty foot. Both Blake and I exhaled in unison.

  The buyer smiled, but I noted a hint of thwarted disappointment in her expression. “Good girls. If a little clumsy,” she added, then tapped Kate’s ass with the flat of her hand. Kate squealed. “Now, poor Blake has had a hard day. Why don’t you both help her relax with a nice foot massage,” she purred.

  I moved my hands up to grip Blake’s foot, holding it steady as she wiggled it in anticipation. The soft nylon was damp with perspiration, and I could sense the faint aroma of sweat and perfume. I should have felt revolted by this intimate contact, but I found myself intoxicated by it. This whole experience was far greater than the sum of its parts - the way multiple sensations dovetailed into one. The fear of the flogger; the multiple sources of novel sensory input from Blake and Kate and the buyer; the growing warmth in my pussy, an insistent tug that was growing ever more persistent with each sordid new development. But most of all, it was the sense of being out of control, of being used. I was doing things that felt utterly alien to me, exploring feelings and urges that I never knew I had. I was following orders blindly, seeking only to obey and serve. And I loved it.