by Ella Ford
When her fingers plunged into my pussy, all thoughts of safety and protection fled from my mind, all thoughts of Jessica and Abigail, the bar and the bathroom, my exposure and vulnerability, all rational thoughts except the intense sensation that roared up through my body as she moved her digits through my most private place.
“Good girls aren’t normally this wet,” she whispered, leaning over my body, covering me with herself.
I shook my head, the last vestige of my dignity meekly protesting the accusation. But it was half-hearted. The only thing that I could feel was the constant, rhythmic motion of her fingers through my slick pussy, massaging, kneading, pressing down on my throbbing clit with a firm pressure that made my body ache with longing. Electric jolts rippled out from my sex, igniting nerve endings, causing light tingles up and down my spine. Then she pushed herself into my tight hole, first one finger, then two, then three, meeting scant resistance on the wet opening. She began to drive her hand back and forth, quicker and quicker, pounding me with every piston-like stroke of her arm. I felt stretched, violated, filled, complete, needing her and begging her to push harder, deeper, to enter me with her whole fist, her whole arm. Fill me until I begged for mercy!
She pulled back on my hair, forcing my head back, forcing me to look in the mirror at the sorry sight of my young body. Bent double over the counter, face flushed red with hungry desire, rocking back and forth as she pounded my pussy, mouth agape and eyes wide. And her, pinning me in place, the hungry expression of a predator worn like a mask of lust.
Her actions intensified, faster and faster her arm moved, banging my hips against the counter painfully, sparks of sharp discomfort and bitter humiliation dovetailing into the waves of indescribable pleasure that were washing over me. I closed my eyes and allowed it all to happen to me, feeling disconnected and distant, strangely out of control.
When the orgasm came, it came quickly, rising up from my pussy without warning. A blossoming fireball of pure white light, it leapt upwards and shot hot tendrils of sensation into my body. I gasped, “Ah, ah, ah!” and squirmed in her tight grip. My thighs clenched together, an involuntary action that trapped her hand in my slick pussy. My spine arched and I felt myself lift off the counter, animated by a force that I couldn’t control. And all the while, she held me in place, impaling me on her hand, gripping my long hair.
Then it faded and I crumpled forward, body deflating as the energy left me. But it wasn’t over yet.
I felt myself pulled up and turned around, trembling knees forced to support my weight as Suzy lifted me to my feet by my hair. I squealed in pain, then found myself facing her, trapped against the counter once more and gazing into her hungry eyes. She lifted her hand and pushed her fingers into my mouth, suffocating me with them, forcing me to taste the unique musk of my own pussy.
“How does that taste?” she snarled, grinding her body against mine, twisting her hand in my mouth. “Do you like it? Do you?”
I nodded, warm tears forming in my eyes and spilling down my cheeks. The taste of my sex was overpowering and strange, vital and rich and deliciously forbidden.
“Good,” she said with a pant, then pushed down on my shoulders and forced me to my knees. I dropped to the floor and found myself cowering before her as she shifted into position, the cold, hard tiles uncomfortable on my bare legs. Like a scalded puppy, I gazed up at her, sure of what was coming, yet uncertain and scared. With a single graceful motion, Suzy rotated around until she was leaning back against the counter where I’d been fucked seconds before. Then she gripped my hair and turned me around to face her, peering down at me with an intense stare of hungry longing. I allowed myself to be moved, to be manipulated into position, legs folding beneath my body, dress still gathered around my waist.
Her free hand fell to her waist and flicked the button on her ripped jeans open, then pulled the zipper down with a strong tug. Her movements were rough and quick, born of a strong need that was palpable and real. With a shuffle of her body, her pants fell down her legs and gathered at the top of her boots. She parted her knees and sighed, exposing herself for me. She was wearing no panties, and I gazed forward at her sex as she held me in place. A thick shock of blonde hair, unkempt and untidy, tapered down into to a pink line that disappeared between her legs. It was inflamed and wet with a hot scent that screamed for attention. She held me there for an eternity of seconds, allowing me to study her, to see what she wanted me to do.
I felt trepidation, fear, curiosity, desire, a hot mix of emotions that I found difficult to parse. But above all else, I felt a strong need to obey, to capitulate, to do whatever this towering presence wanted me to do. In the back of my mind, I realized that what she had said was right. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t a lesbian, just as long as I did what I was fucking told.
With that, she pulled me forward, forcing my face between her legs.
Immediately, I was overwhelmed by the physical sensation of being smothered, of having my mouth and nose covered by a wet mess of flesh, a powerful aroma of her sex filling my lungs as I struggled to breathe. I fought against her, pushing against her powerful hands, trying to free my mouth from the claustrophobic gag that covered it. I forced my lips together, squeezed my eyes tightly shut, struggled in vain against her insistent grip. Then she began to move her hips, grinding herself against my face. I felt her slick flesh slide over my cheeks, my mouth, my nose as she rode me, felt her exotic taste permeate my senses, hot juices coating my lips. I felt a rush of adrenaline, provoked by panic and heightened by arousal, a curious mix of sensations.
I lifted my hands, placing my palms flat on her thighs, suddenly hyper-aware of the soft warmth of her skin under my fingers, the quick, rhythmic beat of her pulse against my face, the firm grip of her hands on my head. Slowly, with fading reluctance, I parted my lips, gingerly pushing my tongue out to touch her, to taste her.
A rush of sensation swept over me and I gripped her legs. Her taste was exquisite, an indescribable flavor of forbidden lust, musky and bold, it invited me forward. I licked at her again, deeper this time, pushing my tongue through her hot folds, exploring the complex geography of her pussy with growing curiosity. It was unfamiliar yet strangely known, a mirror of my own aching sex. I lapped at her, flicking my tongue upwards, finding the throbbing bulge of her clitoris, focusing my attention there.
She responded immediately, pulling me inwards, forcing my face against her, smothering me. My awareness collapsed down to this single point, the locus of contact between my tongue and her clit, my halting, exploratory motion on that tender bulge. With every passing second, my confidence grew, spurred on by the novel feelings that were washing over me. Shame, guilt, humiliation, yes, but also lust, desire, longing, need. All thoughts of my life beyond this unsolicited surrender were swept away, my entire identity vanishing in a flash. All that I was existed purely for this woman, this strange, forceful, towering woman, and her pussy. I was a toy, an object, a plaything, and the thought thrilled me more than I could have ever imagined.
I sensed a change in her, a tightening of her grip, a quickening of her hips. My face was drenched in her, slippery and warm. My body ached, nipples granite hard, pussy pulsating with renewed desire. Our bodies moved in tight synchronization, a blur of tongue and flesh. She began to moan, a low, throaty plea for release.
Then she froze, holding me in place, hips pushed forward until I could barely breathe, until my entire world was contained in that hot, wet place. I felt her legs go tense, felt her fingers curl into claws, and then she exhaled with a palpable release as the orgasm roared through her.
She held me there for a time that must only have been seconds, but which felt like hours, locking my mouth and nose deep in her sex while she rode the waves of pleasure that I’d conjured. Then she released me, letting me fall backwards onto my heels, collapsing in a sorry heap on the floor, face dripping wet and gasping for breath.
She peered down at me, eyes narrowed and panting hard. I felt myself wilt
under her scrutiny, my sense of self fading away in the glow of her authority. She reached down and pulled her jeans up, fastening the button and pulling the zipper without a second thought.
Then she nodded. “Fix yourself up. We’re going for a ride.”
Chapter 2
What on earth was I doing?
The thought rolled around in my mind as I hurried behind Suzy, trying to keep pace with her long strides. My entire body ached from the encounter in the bathroom, muscles tired and weak, legs barely holding me up. But I’d somehow found it within myself to pick myself up off the bathroom floor, pull my dress down over my bottom and my panties up, then followed the commanding woman as she walked across the crowded bar.
It felt as though every pair of eyes in the place was on me, wondering, watching, judging. I felt scrutinized and exposed in a way that I’d never been before. As we headed for the exit, I made eye contact with the barmaid who’d served us before and a look of recognition and understanding flashed across her face. I wondered what she knew, wondered if she had once fallen into this woman’s strange world herself.
And then we were outside, into the cold fall night. I felt a shudder run through me as the sharp air touched the bare skin of my legs and arms. Suzy turned to me and leaned her head to the side, glancing over me with a strangely protective look. Then she shrugged her shoulders and slipped her leather jacket off her body, handing me it with a wry smile.
“Don’t want you catching cold,” she said, “you’ve got a long night ahead of you.”
I took the jacket gratefully, barely registering what she said to me, happy just to block the chill wind. As I slipped it on, I caught her scent in my nose, a warm aroma of leather and sweat and cheap perfume. It seemed unspeakably appealing, in ways that I would have never expected. I wanted to bury my head in the soft material, breathing her in, reliving the feelings that I’d experienced in the bathroom, bent over the counter, pounded hard by her hand. Distantly, I realized that there might be plenty of time for that later.
She looked at me and smiled. “You look like one of the gang,” she said, gazing at the oversized jacket as I hugged it around my quivering body. Her eyes fell to my bare legs and strappy sandals, painted toes pointed inwards, knees together, and she laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle that gave me chills. “Well, not entirely,” she added.
Then she stepped forward and gripped my chin, lifting my head until I was gazing up at her, trapped like a deer in headlights. Even in my high heels, I was still inches shorter than her and her presence seemed overwhelming. For several long seconds, she peered down at me, her wide blue eyes seeming as deep as midnight lakes. I felt myself drifting into them, unable to look away from their hypnotic glare. Then she kissed me, a rough touch of her mouth to mine, an impossibly soft sensation that caused my stomach to explode in a shower of butterflies. I felt her tongue flick over my lips, seeking an entry that I was powerless to resist. I opened my mouth and our tongues met, dancing together between my lips. She tasted of liquor and lipstick, an intoxicating combination that made me weak at the knees. I wanted the kiss to never end, for her to devour me where I stood in the bar car park.
But she pulled back, still holding my face and studying me. I sighed, and looked back at her, pleading with my eyes like a puppy. Her hand fell to my arm and she grabbed me, then turned on her boot heel and we hurried off into the night towards a silver motorcycle parked beside a row of cars. Sleek and polished, with high handlebars and a long seat, the hog gleamed in the night, a thousand twinkling reflections on a dazzling chrome body. I gasped in awe, looking on as Suzy swung her leg over the bike, lifting it up off the kickstand with sinewy arms and a flick of her boot. Then she turned to me.
“Get on,” she said with a commanding tone. I paused, unsure and scared, glancing back at the bar and over to Oscar’s across the street, where Jessica and my old life waited for me. For the first time since we’d left the bathroom, I felt a moment of rising panic, a momentary realization of what had happened and what was about to happen. “I won’t ask you again,” she said firmly, looking back over her shoulder and I knew then that she wouldn’t. This was a one time offer, a strange opportunity that would never be repeated, though I knew not what it entailed. A mystery box of desire and pleasure.
As I swung my leg over the bike and wrapped my arms around the blonde woman’s lithe body, I felt as though I was on auto-pilot, gazing down at myself from above. I felt out of control and wild, following instincts that were new and unfamiliar. As the bike roared into life and glided forwards, leaving the car park with low growl, I felt as though I was leaving behind my old self, leaving behind the Nicole Preston who got good grades, who followed the rules, who played by the book. I was leaving behind my mother and my friends and myself, becoming something different and strange and endlessly compelling.
I tried to focus on what was happening. The cold wind blowing my long hair back, the warmth of Suzy’s body against mine, the soft material of her t-shirt and the faint smell of her perfume. I wondered endlessly how this had happened, how quickly things had changed. Had I always wanted this? Had such sordid desires been a part of me all my life, but had been pushed back by the expectation of family and society? I had no idea, didn’t care.
For that fleeting moment, on the back of Suzy’s roaring machine, I felt alive and free and blissfully unaware of my future.
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“This is Nicole,” said Suzy with a dismissive wave.
We were in a motel room somewhere downtown. It was dingy and dim, a dusty suite that may have been presentable thirty years ago, but which now seemed faded and worn with the passage of time and people.
“H-hi,” I said, uncertain of what was happening or how to behave. This situation was far from the sorority socials that I was used to.
The other women glanced at me with expressions that ranged from contempt to disinterest to barely concealed lust. I felt a warm flush rise up from my neck to make my cheeks burn.
An asian girl rose up from one of the dirty beds and stepped over to me. She was shorter than Suzy and looked to be about my age, with raven black hair cropped close her head, tight leather pants and a white vest pulled tight over her modest breasts. She had high cheekbones and dark narrow eyes, lips painted a deep burgundy. “Is she cool?” the asian girl said, touching her hand to my cheek. I tried not to flinch away, but felt myself quiver under her hot touch. “She looks kinda fresh,” she added, studying me with her penetrating gaze.
“She’s cool, Miranda,” replied Suzy. “Tested her myself.”
One of the other women laughed, an attractive redhead who was reclining on the other bed, naked but for a pair of black panties and her motorcycle boots, a tumble of auburn curls flowing over her shoulders and breasts, like a cascade of lava. “Hope you saved some for us,” she purred, curling her arm around her body and caressing her left nipple. She looked at me and pursed her lips, an exaggerated kiss and a wink.
The third woman, a dusky black girl with a long, thin body and endless legs moved from the bathroom door where she was standing, taking long strides to the bed where the redhead lay. She lowered herself to perch on the edge of the mattress and rested down on her elbow behind the pale girl, then buried her face in the redhead’s neck, provoking girly giggles of pleasure from the other woman. “Remember you’re taken Sarah, you bitch,” said the black girl, mock scalding the redhead.
The redhead pouted then lifted her head to kiss the black girl. “Aw Mona, honey, you know I’d share her with you,” she said with a sultry purr, then the pair fell together in a tangle of limbs and naked flesh, laughing wildly and kissing frantically.
I felt strangely uncomfortable at the intimate scene and looked away. My gaze fell on the fourth and final woman in the room.
She was obviously not part of the gang, and looked deeply out of place, sitting on a chair beside the window, back perfectly straight, knees together. She looked terrified, face held in a mask of deep discomfort and mild panic. S
he was breathing heavily and visibly sweating. By her outfit, she looked like a professional woman, crisp, white blouse, knee length pencil skirt and tan, nylon stockings with black pumps. She looked like an accountant, not a biker, and I wondered distantly what she was doing there.
“When do I get my money?” she said with a meek and timid tone.
Suzy turned to her and smiled. “In time,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
The woman narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together, sighing quietly, head bowing. Then she looked up again. “I told you what I knew about my boss and her… and what she does. You promised me I’d be paid.”
“You’ll be paid Audrey, now shut the fuck up,” spat Suzy, distractedly glancing at a pile of scrawled notes on the hotel desk.
The mousey looking accountant woman flinched back, visibly shocked by the power of Suzy’s words. She seemed to shrink into the chair, mouth hanging open. I studied her, wondering who she was, what she’d told Suzy about her boss, what she was being paid for. The woman fidgeted and squirmed in the seat, eyes flicking between Suzy and the cavorting girls on the bed. She seemed disgusted by the pair, unable to stop looking in their direction. Then she spoke again.
“Listen, I don’t care what you get up to, or what you do with what I told you. I don’t care that you’re… lesbians,” she pronounced the word with a visible grimace, “all I care about is getting my money,” she said. There was a fire in her words, a certain desperation that was palpable. She talked tough, but her voice had no command.
Suzy whirled around and fixed her with a hot stare. On the bed, Mona and Sarah stopped their hot clinch, heads raising up from each other’s bodies to stare at Audrey. The asian girl, Miranda, stepped back from me and crossed her arms, leaning her head to the side with a knowing smirk. There was a palpable, tangible tension in the room, a tinderbox atmosphere that seemed ready to explode at any second.
