Alexa and Chantelle

1 - Anticipation

How could she have got into this situation, Alexa asked herself as she lay bound, gagged, blindfolded and practically naked on the bed. It was not as though she had been drinking; a couple of glasses of white wine with lunch, that was all. And she couldn't bring herself to believe that she had been manipulated by the conversation. Wondering at her predicament, she became aware of the tranquility of her surroundings; outside, birds were chattering, and the heat from the early afternoon sun flooding into the airy room warmed her skin, Although the house was set in spacious grounds, making the likelihood of a stranger spying upon her remote, she felt sexually exposed. Brad would be shocked. And where was Chantelle?

She took a deep breath and tried to focus, a difficult task when strands of her long blonde hair, cascading sensually over her bare shoulders, traitorously stimulated her exposed nipples. It was not as though Brad was still her boyfriend; two years filled with lack of commitment and chauvinism had finally got to her. For the sake of their relationship, she had worked long, demanding hours – her employer's expectations had far exceeded either her job description or any appropriate remuneration – and she been expected to pay the bills on the trashy apartment they shared. In addition, Brad never performed chores, for this was not expected of a novelist internally toiling on complex plot mechanisms and narrative language. Instead, he spent days sitting on the couch downing beers, smoking pot and watching porn with his literary buddies. Last month, after discovering the paucity of his – still unpublished - output, she had finally found the courage to leave him. Soon, she was plagued with ranting, raving and begging messages on her voicemail. At one point, he even alluded to their 'good loving'; she had almost laughed out loud, for after an initial flurry of passion, their sex had been sporadic and unadventurous. Earlier that week, and after what seemed like the hundredth pathetic call, Chantelle had snatched the cellphone, placed it into a dish and then microwaved it for a minute.

'Now, you will have the peace you deserve.' she had said, after instructing Jeanette to dispose of the remains. The stench had been gross, but to Alexa it smelled of liberation. She felt comfortable enough to voice her concerns with her new housemate about how difficult it would be for the office to get in touch with her; Chantelle had promised that they would purchase a new cellphone that weekend. 'If you still want one by then.' she had added. Alexa, wondering what she had meant, began to realize, as the week progressed, how the volume of work-related calls had previously invaded her personal time.

And now it was Saturday; in her present position she considered it most unlikely that she would be going to the mall. She was firmly strapped to the bed, the muscles in her arms and legs stretched, the white linen sheet crisp against her skin. Her cotton thong, the only clothing Chantelle had allowed her to wear, grew moist; Alexa had never experienced anticipation as intense as this before.

And never with another woman.

Where was Chantelle? From their first meeting, at the gym, the young blonde had been impressed by the older woman's decisive, nurturing nature. She commanded respect. Maybe even whilst making this acquaintance, Alexa was planning to leave Brad; in any event, physical fitness was an activity she had sought to order to improve her self-esteem; proudly, she had persevered in her regime despite of her boyfriend's constant morale-sapping comments.

At the end of one particularly grueling exercise session, Chantelle had boldly sat beside Alexa and introduced herself. She was tall. Her hair was dark, and her body well toned. She spoke with a French accent. Almost immediately, she had endeared herself to the young blonde by making the unusual admission of being over thirty years old. In their next few meetings, Alexa became informed of both Chantelle's lesbianism and her familiarity with bondage and domination. These admissions, far from being threatening, had created a sexual frisson; Alexa had experienced some interesting fantasies featuring her new friend. Almost naturally, they began arranging to meet socially, firstly through coordinating their gym sessions and then organizing work lunches.

It was during one of these meetings that the younger woman revealed the true nature of her relationship with Brad; Chantelle offered, in the event of a separation, to share her home with her new friend for as long as necessary. Alexa, lying helpless on the bed, suddenly realized that, to a great extent, it was this offer that had given her the strength to end the relationship. And her time with Chantelle had been exhilarating - good food, stimulating conversation, concerts, art exhibitions, discussions with a number of exotic and interesting people – many of whom lived in the quarter of town her ex-boyfriend and his friends had dismissed as filled with freaks. Especially interesting was Denise, a quiet, introspective girl who worked as a body piercer and tattooist, More than anything, the two woman, when together, enjoyed the luxury of each other's company. It became obvious that the French brunette possessed a substantial income; the house was elegantly furnished, and a maid was employed.

Jeanette was also European, and appeared a similar age as Alexa. She seemed to live in an area of the house the young blonde had not dared to discover. Sometimes, she would be hard at work when Alexa woke at six, scrubbing or dusting, invariably wearing skinny jeans and a plain T-shirt. On other days, she did not appear until mid-afternoon, a strange glow warming her skin. The first of her two most striking features were her piercings. These were almost certainly the work of Denise, for when the two young women met, there was an obvious familiarity. Her tongue had been studded twice, and her ears three times on each lobe. The other extreme style concerned her hair. She was as blonde as Alexa, but the cut so short that she could have passed for a marine cadet.

Alexa was intrigued by the relationship between Jeanette and Chantelle; although the brunette behaved in an efficient manner towards the maid, they travelled together, as equals, to visit their friends. There was also an enigmatic undercurrent to their exchanges. And it was this subject, which Alexa had queried whilst at lunch that very day, which precipitated the situation she now found herself in.

'She is my slave, and I am her mistress.' Chantelle explained. Alexa's first reaction was embarrassment; although they were eating on the balcony of the Frenchwoman's house, she was frightened such intimacy would be overheard. 'She obeys my every command', the brunette continued, 'and at present these include household duties'. The young blonde was shocked and yet excited at this revelation. She asked why Jeanette would subject herself to such an arrangement.

'Because, at present, it suits her', the older brunette replied. 'It is my responsibility as a mistress to ensure that she enjoys our sexual journey. We have both travelled to a place we could hardly have imagined when we first embarked on this arrangement. If she no longer feels satisfied – if her heart calls her to take a different path...' – the older woman paused for a moment – '... then I will respect her wishes. She knows this. Our relationship is simple. I sexually stimulate, use and play with her body for our mutual benefit, and expect obedience in exchange for providing financial and emotional security. And, like you, she has been in need of such security.'

With that statement, Alice suddenly realized the extent to which she was indebted to Chantelle's charity. She thought of the lifestyle she had enjoyed over the last few weeks, compared it to the drudgery of her relationship with Brad, and then imagined Jeanette tied, chained, whipped and satisfying her mistress with her pierced tongue - treacherously, she felt herself both tingling with excitement and experiencing a wave of jealousy towards the maid. Such intensity of emotion almost overwhelmed her. Then, with subtlety, Chantelle asked if she too would be interested in experiencing a similar sexual experience.

Why had she agreed? It was not the assurances Chantelle had given concerning the consensual bond inherent within all successful dominant/submissive relationships, nor the fact that the young blonde was bored, sexually frustrated or even seeking revenge on Jeanette's emotional attachment to Chantelle. Tied to the bed, picking out the faint sounds of movement and conversation from the adjacent room, she realized that she could not provide an answer. She recalled only faintly assenting to the Frenchwoman's inquiry, and then, after a short discussion, visiting the bathroom, showering thoroughly, drying her body with a soft towel and dressing in the thong the prospective mistress had provided for her to wear. Then, she was escorted to a spare bedroom. Chantelle took a blindfold, a gag and four lengths of rope from a small cupboard. She pulled the blindfold over Alexa's eyes, guided her to the bed and then gently coiled the ropes around her wrists and ankles. When she was secured firmly to the corners of the frame, the captive was ordered to open her mouth; the gag was inserted.

'I won't be long', the brunette had said before closing the door behind her. 'I need to prepare.'