'What on earth have you had that done for?' my mother was not at all impressed by my freshly-pierced tongue, when my friend Cindy and I sat down to supper at the kitchen table, and she spotted it when I self-consciously touched it with my forefinger.
'Don't know, Mum,' was my honest answer, but, when we were alone, Cindy said, 'Don't be coy with me, you dirty cow, you just want to give better blow-jobs, don't you?'
I really hadn't thought about that, in truth, and even less what she went on to say: 'It would make for sensational clit-flicking, you know!' I slapped her miniskirted arse, and told her to behave herself. But it did set me to thinking – just a little!
The fact of the matter was that my friend Darren, who wasn't really a boyfriend, but we had sort of hung around together since school, had suggested I get my tongue done, and I just liked the idea – I don't know why.
Just about then, I suppose a couple of days later, a job offer came through. I had been kicking my heels at home for weeks, on the dole, and a decent job, even if it meant finding a flat in the city, was too good to miss. I accepted.
As I packed to leave home for the first time in my eighteen and a bit years, and move to the flat I was going to share with a new workmate, Laura, in West London, I started to get more selective about my clothes than I had ever been before. If I was going to be seen out in London, I thought, I ought to look sophisticated. Then I paused, and smiled to myself. It wasn't that, was it? My tastes had changed – completely.
Shoes were my major preoccupation, I knew. I just couldn't go out in anything that didn't have really high heels – the higher the better, I couldn't explain it, and it drew snorts from my mother whenever she saw me – or, more often, heard me – clicking down the stairs in four inch stilettos. I loved strappy stilettos with metal heels, and if they had platform soles as well – so much the better. I had also taken to wearing a silver anklet, with a dangly bit, which I knew drew attention to my feet, and to painting my toenails bright reds or blues. My long slim legs were not at all bad, I knew, and I was going to make the best of them. I had also taken to wearing very tight, knee-length skirts, the tightest I could buy. I should have liked to have had an occasion to wear an evening gown with a skirt so tight I could scarcely walk.
I ended up throwing out more clothes than I packed, then, suddenly, sat down on my bed and wept. I didn't know what I wanted to do at all.
That evening, Cindy came to see me before I left, and cheered me up a lot, telling me she'd come to see me in London, then she took me on one side, held my hand, and said, 'Look, Diana, what I said about your stud, that was a joke. I know where you're coming from, really. I've seen your taste in shoes change, and it's part of the same thing. You're a pain-slut, aren't you?'
I took offence at that, and started to protest, until she shut me up, 'There's nothing wrong in that,' she said, 'more people than you think are into that sort of thing.'
Before we parted she kissed me, full on the lips, and I let her push her tongue into my mouth, until its tip touched against my stud.
'Mmmm,' she murmured, and held me against her just too long to be decent. I wondered if her comment about 'clit-flicking' had been altogether disinterested.
'Make sure you come down and see me, darling,' I said.
I met Laura when I arrived at my new home, and liked her straight away. She was a petite blonde, with a Scots accent, and was dressed, although it was midday, in silk pyjamas, her long hair tied up in a French knot. I saw straight away that she sported a pierced lower lip, and thought I detected a tongue-stud too. Was it too much to hope that we were of like mind?
'Love the shoes,' she said, when I had introduced myself, and sat down on the sofa. I was, by now, so used to wearing heels that I was surprised when anyone commented, and looked down – I was wearing black patent stiletto sandals, with straps that wound several times around my slender ankles.
'If you're into that sort of gear,' said Laura, without further preamble, 'I'll take you to a shop you'll just love this afternoon – I buy lots of stuff there.'
Without waiting for a reply, she went into her room to get changed, and returned, transformed, by which time I had dumped my gear in the room I had been shown was mine, and freshened up a bit after the journey. I was still wearing the tight grey skirt and silk blouse I had travelled in. Laura appeared, in a tight leather miniskirt and thigh-length, spike-heeled boots. Her top was also leather, laced across her ample cleavage. She wore huge silver hoops in her ears, and now had her long blonde hair loose, falling to her waist. The effect was very Gothic.
'Come on, we'll go and have a pub lunch – I often do on a Saturday,' she said.
The music in the pub she chose precluded much conversation, but everybody seemed to know Laura, and she seemed at home as she guided me around the streets of the trendy quarter where I was going to live.
We walked into a largish shop in a back street, and Laura was immediately grabbed and embraced by a huge, effeminate-looking guy in his fifties, whom she introduced as Mo.
Mo in turn presented us to a young girl, dressed in a long cotton dress, whom he called Fifi. She sat us down on an overstuffed sofa while she finished dealing with another woman in the dim recesses of the store, then she returned, whispered something quickly to Laura, then pulled me to my feet, and twirled me around.
'Hmmm,' she mused, and then went back to Laura, whereupon they had another whispered conversation, before the girl retired to the back of the store.
'What's going on?' I demanded to know, not unreasonably.
'Fifi says she has just the thing for you, and wants to know if you'll be offended,' said Laura.
'Oh?'
'I told her I didn't know, but that you seemed nice,' she smiled.
Fifi came back with a box. 'Come on,' she said, and held out her hand to me.
I followed meekly, and Laura came too. We entered a big dressing-room, with racks of clothes, and mirrors on all the walls. Laura sat down, and Fifi told me to undress. I wriggled out of my skirt and unbuttoned my blouse. I was down to bra and panties.
'Those too,' she said.
'Eh?' I was suddenly unsure of what I was doing here, but obediently unhooked my bra, slipping it off my shoulders, and slid the white cotton panties down over my hips and off. I felt doubly naked, stood there in front of two strangers in this brightly-lit room.
'Now,' said Fifi, and produced a garment the like of which I hadn't seen before from the box. It was a black satin whale-boned corset, which she now offered up to my body, and buttoned up the front. It was designed to incorporate a half-bra, so that my firm young breasts perched on the platform of the garment, my thrusting nipples left free. It was arched in the back so that my buttocks were also free, and had long garter straps which hung down for attaching stockings. I did a twirl around and thought it looked wonderful, but I had a big surprise coming. Laura got to her feet, and at a nod from Fifi, took hold of a string at the rear of the garment, while Fifi grasped another. They heaved for all they were worth, and I felt myself constricted almost beyond belief. I gasped with the pain as my already narrow young waist was restrained and tightened still further.
'Oooh,' I cried, as they tied off the strings of the corset, but I knew then that I should want to wear it many more times, and felt warm juices oozing within me.
'I'll take it,' I said, 'and please put my things in a bag – I'll wear it home.'
Laura and Fifi exchanged looks, and I knew they would accept me into some kind of 'inner circle' at that moment.
'I don't want to pry,' said Laura, 'but are you OK – I mean financially?'
I had some savings, so I nodded, and that was a signal for them to find me all sorts of things. I learned that Laura had a party coming up, and I told them about my fantasy about an evening gown with a skirt so tight I could hardly walk. No sooner had I mentioned it than Fifi produced a long white silk halter-necked gown, completely backless, with a pencil-slim skirt that I could only get into by means of a long zipper. When I put it on, I was unable to do more than mince along.
They produced more skirts, dresses and tops, and several pairs of stockings, but I pronounced myself happy with the shoes I already had.
As we were getting ready to leave, Fifi said, 'And accessories? Anything I can get you?'
'I don't think so,' I said, as I had lots of jewellery, but Laura had other ideas, and whispered something to Fifi again, who grinned and trotted off, her dress swishing around her legs. She was back in seconds, with a small box, and took off the lid, while Laura deftly undid the buttons of my blouse, before I could protest.
As I watched, she took from the box two small gold items. I had read about them, but never seen anything like them before. They were nipple clamps! She took my right nipple between thumb and forefinger, and drew a gasp from me, as the pain hit me, then, before I could react, she had placed and tightened the cruel little clamp down on my tender nipple. I cried out with the agony of it, but a heat flooded my pussy as shee did it, and, when she repeated it on the other nipple, I was close to orgasm. She connected the two clams with their own little gold chain, and I had yet more expense.
'Now you're a real pain-slut,' said Laura, as we left the shop, 'tomorrow, I may take you to meet somebody – but first, more preparation.'
Back at the flat, I enjoyed walking around in front of my bedroom mirror in my new corset, wearing a new pair of stockings, my heels, and the excruciating nipple-clamps. I masturbated in front of the mirror, and had no sooner slipped two fingers in between my wet pussy-lips, than I came, a huge orgasm wracking my body, my knees buckling, and juices oozing from my cunt.
I looked around, as soon as I was able to see anything at all, and Laura was leaning against my door-post, her skirt around her waist, both hands attending to her completely hairless mound. One was parting her labia, whilst the other was submerged deep within her cunt. Her mouth was open, and eyes were hooded, as she brought herself to a trembling climax.
When we had both finished, she came up behind me, and took me in her arms, then led me to my own bed. 'I like my new flatmate,' she said.
'Me too.'
We stripped each other naked, and Laura looked at me critically, then announced that I should have to be shaved. I rummaged around and found a razor, and let Laura shave me, which she did with infinite care, removing every vestige of hair from my mound, labia, and arsehole. I told her I fancied having more piercing done, and she said we should have to go together, but that, for the time being, I had other things to learn. I wondered what she was talking about, but she wouldn't be drawn.
'Let me tell you what I have planned,' she said, after she had spent a while on the telephone, 'I'll cook us a meal tonight, then you can sleep with me, or by yourself – just as you please. Tomorrow morning you are going to meet Gary – he's a friend of Lou's. How's all that sound?'
We sat in our robes and ate a delicious meal of steak and salad that Laura cooked, then watch television for a while. I felt a bit awkward after what she had said, and went to the bathroom, combed out my long black hair, and put on my best long cream silk nightgown, and was just turning back the covers, when Laura put her head around the door. She was dressed in a short, red nylon nightgown, her hair loose around her pretty face. 'Don't you want company, then?'
'I thought you'd never ask.'
She slid in beside me, and our bodies entwined, I felt her busy, slender fingers questing between my legs, parting my lips, seeking out the little bud of my clitoris. I moaned when she found it, and took one of her rosebud nipples between my teeth, under the nylon of her nightdress. She sighed, and pushed my head downwards, over her flat stomach, so that I was soon running my tongue into the groove of her sex. I held her labia apart with both hands, and, for the first time, used my tongue-stud as my friend Cindy had suggested. It had the desired effect on Laura, at least, and she writhed in ecstasy as I alternately flicked with my tongue, and bit at her hardened nub. Then I plunged my tongue deep into her soaking cunt, and simultaneously sought her arsehole with my finger, thrusting deep within her, as she returned the favour in a perfect '69' position. I came explosively, at least three times, as her tongue and fingers did their magic, until I could take no more, and we lay exhausted in each others' arms, and slept until daylight woke us.
Sunday in London. I wondered where I was, until the smell of coffee got me out of bed.
