Deeper

My story continues; thank you to everyone who told me how much they liked 'Beginnings', without which this will not make as much sense. I can only hope that this matches your expectations.

*

The room was dominated by a four-poster bed, heavy and solid in dark wood. Set on a deep pile circular rug. There were two large sash windows through which the November sun shone. Looking out, Nicole could see out over trees and fields. The curtains were deep red, heavy velvet. Another curtain, the same colour, covered almost the whole width of the wall facing the foot of the bed. The floor was light wood, polished boards with a deep rug.

'It's beautiful...' Nicole was overwhelmed. Anne was behind her, her arms wrapped around Nicole's waist. She kissed Nicole's neck, her breath warming the skin.

'Thank you. I've taken a lot of time on this room. But you must need to freshen up. The bathroom is across the landing. I'll leave something for you on the bed to wear . Come down when you've finished.'

Nicole had shut the bathroom door and was running water in the bath; she'd even poured some expensive-looking bath foam into the steaming water when she realised that she was still wearing Anne's collar and bracelets. She didn't think that soaking them in hot water would do them any good, and she was part loath to spoil them, part afraid of the consequences if she did. She doubted that Anne would appreciate being called, so she decided to bathe carefully, keeping the leather dry. Washing her hair was the hardest, wrapping it tightly in a towel afterwards seemed to work. It was difficult and slow, but eventually she felt clean. The time alone felt awkward. She was trying to think. Everything seemed so confusing. She'd never have thought that she'd enjoy being bound, never have considered sex with another woman. But she didn't feel guilty, as she had expected, just pleasantly warm from the orgasm. Was it because she had been bound, that it wasn't really her fault? Was it really her? Did it matter? The answers never came, the questions stopped making sense.

Wrapped in a big, soft towel, she walked into the bedroom. There was a pair of dusky pink satin pyjamas on the bed. A hairdryer was lying next to it. Brushing her hair, she snagged the collar. She'd forgotten it completely again. She wouldn't have believed that would be possible, but now she was suddenly acutely aware of it and her bracelets. She wondered what Anne had done with the key.

Anne was downstairs. Despite her elation, she was worried. Nicole had taken to the collar more naturally than she could ever have hoped. She had worried before about whether she would be rejected, then about whether the reality of binding and whipping her would match up to her fantasies and her imagination. It had, but there was something about the early stages that made her insecure. She wasn't sure what to try next. She might leave that to Nicole; she might not know what she wanted, but it would be best to let her set the pace. Not that it would do to tell her that. Not yet anyway. She smiled to herself and walked to the cupboard. There were some pains au chocolat that would make a good lunch.

Nicole waked slowly down the stairs, following the tantalising scent of warm pastry and chocolate. She called out to her friend, not sure where the kitchen was. Hearing her, Anne realised that she'd never shown Nicole the way to the kitchen, and opened the door.

'That smells really good.' Nicole realised that she hadn't eaten yet that day.

'How do you feel?'

'Wonderful, but very hungry.'

There was a slight defensiveness, as if neither was entirely willing to bring up the subject of what they'd just done. Nicole was a little confused. The collar and bracelets close, almost comforting. Anne just seemed to be watching her with those deep brown eyes. It felt odd to be sitting here, eating pains au chocolat, drinking black coffee as if it was a normal Saturday morning. She felt she had to say something.

'What are your plans for this weekend?' She regretted the question instantly. She hadn't meant to blurt it out quite like that. The answer was little comfort.

'That's for me to know and you to find out.' Anne was playing with her. She loved watching her friend's response. She held her friend's gaze until Nicole's eyes dropped. This was her opportunity.

'Please, do not be impertinent.'

'Sorry, Mistress.'

Nicole was slipping back. Her breathing was faster. She could feel her chest tensing. Anne reached across the table, cupping Nicole's chin in her left hand, lifting it to bring her eyes back into contact.

'I will continue to enjoy you as I did this morning. You will learn just what it is to serve me. I will bring you to the deepest and most meaningful submission that you have ever felt and you will beg me for more.'

Nicole swallowed hard. She was torn between intrigue, arousal, lust and fear. The fear only served to spur her on more. She was becoming intoxicated with desire. She felt herself slip off the chair and fall to her knees, as she had knelt, naked that morning.

'Please teach me the meaning of submission, Mistress. I am your willing slave.'

'Stand up. Go next door. You will recognise the room. Strip and await me. On your knees.'

'Hurry up. I don't enjoy repeating myself.' The menace was clear, and Anne was pointing to a door. Nicole had not expected this rejection. If it was rejection, she wasn't sure. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting. She stood, and headed through the indicated door, into the old stable room. It shut behind her, closing heavily. The pale sunlight filtered through the small barred window, high on the wall, giving a soft, cold light.

She pulled off the pyjamas, folding them carefully. She wasn't sure why, but it seemed the right thing to do. Feeling the chill of the air on her skin, she knelt. She wasn't sure what to do with her arms. Guessing, she crossed her wrists at the small of her back as she had done before. The feeling of exposure was overwhelming. The feel of Anne's whip was a fresh memory. She was not looking forward to another whipping. She felt open, remembering the feeling of the intruder in her behind. That had been the first time that she had ever had anything here. Those parts of 'The Story of O' had always horrified her and aroused her in equal measures. It wasn't just the sort of thing that nice girls didn't do. It was just too depraved. None of her friends had ever talked about it. She couldn't even remember Anne mentioning it. But it had felt exquisite; the mix of pleasure with just the smallest twinge of pain. Still she waited.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't even hear Anne's return. She didn't know how long she had waited. It felt like hours that she had knelt on the cold stone floor. The blood was pounding in her ears, and her arms and thighs ached.

'What am I going to do with you?' Anne's voice cut through the air.

Nicole did not know how to respond. She hoped the question was rhetorical.

'Putting it another way, do you know what I am going to do to you?'

'No, Mistress.' She really didn't know. She couldn't guess. She could think of some possibilities, but they were all too terrible to contemplate, but too delicious to ignore. She craved the pain, the humiliation that she feared. She shuddered, not daring to turn her head.

'That is good.' Anne recognised the discomfort of her squirming captive. 'We must retain some mystery.'

'Keep your back straight and close your eyes. Chin up. Do I have to keep reminding you? Take pride in your submission.'

Nicole felt soft cloth over her face. The blindfold was black velvet, soft and heavy. It was cut to the shape of her face, covering the eyes securely and letting no light through. Anne pulled it snug, then knotted it securely. To Nicole, it suddenly seemed that her helplessness was infinitely more complete. Her breathing became faster.

Anne walked round in front her kneeling friend. She crouched down, her face inches from Nicole's. She raised her right hand to stroke Nicole's cheek, murmuring softly, almost inaudibly. 'Calm, calm.' Then the left hand too, holding Nicole's face firmly but gently, kissing her lips, probing gently into her mouth with her tongue. The hands felt different, the touch soft and warm, but the texture was og fabric, not skin. She must have put on gloves. Small whimpers grew in Nicole's throat, noises of arousal. The feel of gloved hands on the tender skin of her neck, moving down to her breasts. Then nothing.

Anne picked up the dog lead she had used before, snapping it to the ring on Nicole's collar. Gripping the lead firmly, close to the collar, she tugged sharply down.

'On all fours.' Nicole struggled, blindfolded and slightly off balance, but the pressure on the lead kept her steady.

'Follow me.'

This was the worst yet. It was like being treated as a pet. Anne was keeping her on a close lead, tugging to hurry her if she was slow, or to direct her. From what she could remember of the house, she was being led towards the stairs, or the front door; it could have been either. The cold stone floor became the prickly carpet of the hall. She was not used to experiencing someone's home this way. Then the leash was jerked to the right. It was the stairs. Nicole was very relieved. The carpet was harsh on her knees and hands. The she felt the first step.

'On your belly and crawl up. I want to see you squirm.' Nicole paused, unwilling, but desperate to obey. She felt a gloved hand push down, hard between her shoulders, pressing her chest down to the floor. The tension in the lead still forced up onwards, upwards. Anne preceded her, ensuring that the tension was just enough to guide her captive.

The carpet rubbed at Nicole's body, teasing the delicate skin of her breasts and her stomach. She counted the steps in her head. There were seven to the half landing where she knew the stairs turned back on themselves and then another seven. At the top of the stairs, the lead pulled straight on, onto a warm, polished wooden floor. The change in texture was welcome, but the pressure on the lead was continuous. She knew it was the bedroom.

A sharp tug upwards. 'Stop.'

The sound of a chair being moved across a wooden floor, then set in place.

'On your feet.' Anne helped her friend up, one hand on the leash, holding it where it snapped to the collar, the other half-lifting her from behind. 'You are so good, so beautiful.' she whispered in Nicole's ear. Her hands drifted down, over Nicole's breasts, feeling her hardened nipples, caressing, gently. Anne couldn't help herself. She was becoming very wet. Nicole's reactions were so arousing.

She pushed the chair behind Nicole. 'Sit down.'

It was a high-backed chair, solid wood, cold to the touch. Nicole shivered as she sat. It felt solid, heavy. She felt Anne pull her shoulders back, gently, pressing them against the hard wood of the seat back. Then, her arms were drawn behind her and together, her wrists once again pinioned. Then rope, soft and silky, slowly, deliberately wound around her left ankle, pulling tight as Anne secured it to the leg of the chair. Her right ankle was tied to the right leg of the chair in the same way. More rope was taken around her waist, pulling it tight against the seat back. Then yet more rope was taken around her upper arms, pulling them close together, almost painfully.

Anne stepped back to admire her handiwork. Nicole was helplessly tied to the chair, her legs held open, her back straight. The bonds pulling her arms together forced her shoulders back, lifting her breasts, exposing them. Anne picked up a short, black leather riding crop, using it to stroke the body of her bound and helpless friend.

Nicole was becoming more and more aroused. The sensation of being bound, the loss of control was at once relaxing and terrifying. She did not know what it was she was being tormented with, but her skin, already sensitised by crawling, felt alive. It was slender and hard, harder than a finger. She felt it under the point of her chin, lifting it while Anne's lips and tongue probed her open, willing mouth. Then the kiss ended.

Anne held the crop cross-wise, placing it in her friends open mouth. 'Close your mouth.' Nicole complied, tasting the hard leather covering. Pushed back right to the back of her mouth, the hard leather bit held her mouth open.

'I suggest you keep that in your mouth. It is a riding crop. If you drop it, I will use it on you.'

Nicole tried to swallow. The thought was terrifying. She could only imagine the pain of a hard cropping. She knew that Anne had gone easy with the whip, but that had hurt terribly. Her mouth, though, was held open by the crop, and she found that swallowing was almost impossible. She let out an involuntary noise, part-way between whimper and groan. Anne's hands drifted down to her friends breasts, cupping them, stroking ever so lightly on her nipples. Nicole shook her head wildly, unable to speak, the whimpers and groans becoming wild as she felt herself dissolve into an overpowering level of sensitivity and sensation. Again, it stopped.

'I will not allow you to become overexcited; not yet, at least.' Anne's voice was soft, reassuring, but almost mocking. 'You will have to wait a bit longer for release.'

Nicole could only utter a frustrated groan. Her mouth was dry.

Then the noise of a curtain being drawn back. Nicole tried franticly to remember the layout of the room. She thought it could only be the curtain facing the bed. That meant she was sat at the end of the bed. The noise of other curtains to her right that must have been over the windows. Then the sound of a match striking. The distinctive scent of a candle being lit; then another. The room slowly filled with the scent of vanilla, filling her nostrils with a sweet and heavy perfume.

Anne smiled to herself at the irony. Vanilla had always seemed a deeply sensual scent to her. It was earthy and musky too, a compliment to the taste of leather that Nicole was enjoying. It was so sweet, so overpowering, that she had never quite understood why people thought it boring, bland even. She turned, brushing her fingertips lightly over the bound woman's left thigh, savouring the reaction as she tensed against the ropes. Anne briefly inspected the ropes, checking that they were tight, but not cutting into the skin. She meant for her to be there a while longer yet.

Returning to the doorway, Anne closed the door softly and turned out the light. The heavy curtains blocked almost all light from the windows, and the soft glow of the candles, on to either side of her captive, was the only illumination. She smiled to herself, and walked back behind her friend.

Nicole blinked, her eyes adjusting fast to the dim light. At first, she was not sure what to make of the sight that confronted her. Then she realised. The curtain facing the bed had concealed a full-lenght mirror. The helpless bound figure in front of her was herself. She recoiled, fascinated by the naked and gagged figure in front of her; the pale flesh bound with dark ropes, but ashamed of her nakedness, her helplessness. She struggled, moaning against the crop that held her mouth open.

'I would be still,' came Anne's voice from behind her, 'I would not want you to harm your pretty skin on the ropes.'

Nicole struggled to see into the gloom behind her in the mirror. The light cast by the candles left her in a pool of flickering light, but effectively hid her friend from sight. She was very aware, though possibly imagining it, of eyes meeting hers, looking deeply into her soul.

'Relax, enjoy the sight of beauty subject to discipline.'

The shadows were beginning to resolve themselves. Nicole watched, transfixed. She could only just see Anne. She was naked save for long black satin gloves, sheer seamed stockings and suspenders. The skin that would normally be covered was accentuated by the gloves and stockings, covering skin that would normally be naked. The suspenders framed her dark triangle so beautifully. The light was too bright in her own eyes, too dull behind her where Anne stood to see clearly, but Anne was beautiful naked. She looked so elegant. Nicole couldn't help what happened next. She opened her mouth to breath in and the crop fell to the wooden floor. Fearfully, looking in the mirror, she saw Anne, calmly smoothing the close-fitting black satin glove up her arm. Satisfied, Anne said, without looking up, 'I warned you.' It had been too much to hope that she hadn't noticed. Nicole's heart sank, but the despair was quickly replaced by the frisson of fear.

'I...I.. didn't mean...'

'Silence. You must understand the consequences of your actions.'

Anne stood. From behind, she took Nicole's hair firmly in hand, pulling her head back. She kissed Nicole, deeply, passionately, feeling the heat in her own belly. She was enjoying this, and wanted it to last. She loved tormenting her captive, whose reactions betrayed just how much she enjoyed the torment. She stepped slowly in front of the chair, one hand in Nicole's hair, the other on her shoulder. She bent down, her face inches from Nicole's.

'Are you ready to accept your punishment?'

'Mistress, please...'

'Are you ready?' The tone was impatient, insistent. The gloved hand in Nicole's hair tightened its grip.

'Mistress...'

'Yes or no?'.

'Please...'

'You are only making things worse for yourself. Your obedience must be immediate.'

The hand in her hair pulled back again. Nicole was becoming genuinely afraid, she tried to reply, sobbing, the answer came.

'Yes.'

The pressure was released. Anne felt as if she had pushed too far. She decided to give Nicole another chance, and asked again, quietly, calmly.

'Are you ready to be punished?'

Nicole looked into her eyes. The eye contact was strong, unwavering.

'Yes mistress, I am ready to be punished. I was disobedient. You warned me.'

Nicole had felt Anne's hesitation. She had not demurred through fear, but through confusion. She was uncontrollably aroused by the prospect of a new beating. It was not the pain. Nor even the anticipation now. She wanted to be corrected, to feel the approval of punishment. Anne saw her new confidence, and realised that she too had gone beyond playing a part. Nicole at last could appreciate the beauty of her friend's body. Her breasts were small, but firm; her stomach was almost flat, with just the merest hint of softness. Between her legs was a carefully trimmed patch of dark, curly hair.

Anne was aware of being watched. She hesitated for a moment, then walked behind Nicole and released the ropes. Nicole sat on the chair, her wrists still joined.

'On your knees in front of the chair. Pick up the crop in your teeth and present it to me.'

Struggling, Nicole complied, dropping the crop into the proffered hand.

'Thank you.' The chair was pulled away from behind her.

Turn, face the end of the bed, and put your head down on the covers.'

Nicole followed the instructions, shuffling round on her knees.

'I will give you three strokes as a taste of the crop. I suggest you count, but I will not punish you for losing count this time.' Anne knew it would be easiest for her friend to know. Nicole braced herself. Anne saw her tense, and waited.

The first stroke was hard. Nicole gasped, almost breathless with the shock. The second was as hard, but less shocking. The third and final stoke was the hardest. She had suffered almost in silence.

'Thank you, Mistress.'

'You are learning.' The response had surprised Anne. Nicole was a natural submissive.

'Let me please you.'

Anne released her wrists, and half lifted, half pushed Nicole onto the bed, kissing and caressing her passionately, wildly. Nicole responded, her hands stroking Anne's breasts reaching between her legs, feeling the heat. Struggling on top of her friend, Anne pinned her wrists to the bed, kneeling over her upper arms and lowered herself over Nicole's face. Nicole's pleasure was expressed in muffled grunts as Anne pressed her sex into Nicole's face. Nicole was overcome by the musky scent; it was hard to believe how aroused Anne was; she always seemed so controlled. Almost instinctively, Nicole began to lap at her sex with her tongue, Anne moving to guide her.