Fleeing From Her Mistress

With a groan she pushed herself up off the pillow. She let her eyes roam. The room was small. But it had made her feel save from the first day. It had been the place where she felt private and free to reflect on all the incredible things happening to her. Some of them had been sweeter than she believed to be possible. Others had left her in confused tears, like now. And yet, they all seemed to belong together.

Was she being brainwashed?

She shrugged. She had never been one to reflect and analyse. Her emotions had always been clear and simple. If she loved, she loved without reserve. If she hated, she just avoided the source of it. But she 'd never hated anyone for long.

Ever since she was here, the whole structure of her simple life had been smashed. There had been good and bad, love and hate, light and dark. And now it all had fused.

How could she love a woman who violated her and laughed at her misery? But how could she hate a woman who made it so easy to love her? Then, shouldn't she hate her for selling out this same love? She had ridiculed it and discarded her trust.

Kristie shook her head. She told herself to stop it. There was only one way to save herself. She had to leave this place and this woman.

She pushed away the sheets and slid out of bed. Her curling toes searched for her slippers. At that moment the door opened. Angique entered. She looked paler than ever. There were dark rings under her eyes. She wore a simple red silk robe and Japanese slippers. She radiated tiredness.

"Did you sleep well, darling?" she asked. Her voice was a mere whisper.

Kristie did not answer. She just sat on the edge of her bed. Her legs dangled. When Angique tried to hug her, she shrunk away.

There was no reaction. The black haired woman merely stood back. Her hands hung straight down her sides.

"I know," she said. "If you want to leave, I wish you well."

Kristie stared. She felt her lower lip tremble.

"Please, Mistress, understand…"

The emerald eyes flashed. Then they extinguished.

"Ne m'apelle pas Mistress," Angique said. "If you can't accept this life, don't use its words."

She sank beside Kristie on the bed. Hesitatingly she lifted her arm to wrap it around the girl's shoulders.

"I can't ask you to forgive me and I won't. The only basis for your love is to accept me as your Mistress. With that acceptance you must bear the consequences. You can't tell me you are mine and not be it."

Kristie did not refuse the embrace. She just sat and stared.

"I have decided. I can't live this life," she whispered. Her voice broke halfway.

"I do love you, Angique. There is no doubt at all. But I can't believe you love me."

The pale woman studied Kristie's face. Her eyes widened in wonder.

"But darling, I don't love you. I never have and never will. I have told you this. You know it. There is no way I could love you or anyone. I do care for you, though. I know your needs. I think I am the only one able to give you what you need. If that is love, so be it. But I don't think so."

"I want to go home," Kristie said. Then she broke down crying. Angique held her shaking body. She whispered soft words. Her hand roamed the naked skin. She found the newly pierced breast. She cupped it softly.

Kristie cried out. She suddenly hugged Angique with both arms. She kissed her face and throat and chest.

"Oh God, Angique. I love you so. Why does this all have to be so difficult? I don't want to go, but I must. I don't want to hate you, but I must! Tell me what to do!"

Angique did not answer. She just held the girl. Then she searched for her mouth and kissed her deeply. Their tongues danced. They wrestled as they had done so often before. Kristie spread her thighs. She accepted Angique's hand on her still tender cunt lips. She shuddered at the touch.

Angique started a slow and sweet probing of Kristie's pussy. She felt her getting wet. The lovely pink petals blossomed open. They showed how their tiny pink treasure slipped from its hood.

Angique now took Kristie's right hand. She sucked her fingers into her mouth. Then she took them down to the girl's cunt. She made her rub herself.

The girls kissed. Their combined hands started a sweet slow fuck. They slid in deeper at every stroke. Kristie moaned in Angique's mouth. She made their tongues vibrate. Then she felt herself slide into the bliss she knew so well by now. It was the bliss she felt when she was with her Mistress.

The long, slow waves of her climax left her body tingling all over. Angique held her and rubbed her back.

"Show me your ring, darling".

Kristie slowly cupped her left tit. She displayed the silver ring that ran through a swollen, red nipple. Angique touched it softly.

"Will you accept it, Kristie? Just for thanks?"

The girl smiled an exhausted smile.

"Take good care of it, after you leave. Let it heal. The pain will be gone in two days. Use the ointment I gave you."

Kristie's brow furrowed. Angique kissed the tiny wrinkles.

"Yes, darling. Maybe you should go home for a while. This has all been too much too soon, perhaps. Maybe you should have the time to sort out your feelings. I don't want my girl doubting."

Angique smiled. Her hand touched the Kristie's face. She stared into the innocent eyes. They were still misty with climax.

"Take tonight's plane. You'll be there in early morning. Do all you want and need for a fortnight. Go to your sweet family. Go party. Fuck the stars off the skies. Then phone me. I shall accept whatever you decide."

Angique stood. She looked down on the girl.

"I hate goodbyes", she said. "Don't look for me, when you leave."

She turned. She closed the door behind her.

***

Home had changed.

Everything seemed smaller, uglier. She had walked past the restaurant where she'd worked. She did not enter. People at the fitness club greeted her enthusiastically. She felt reserved. The gossip they had did not touch her. It seemed to concern strangers.

Her mother had cried when she saw her again. Her father just stood and watched her. His eyes had been sad. They hugged. But something essential seemed to have changed.

Her apartment used to be her one precious place. It had been the proof of her pride and independence. Now it looked empty. It seemed small and insignificant.

Her boss at the restaurant called her the second day she was back. He asked her if she'd returned to stay. She said she wasn't sure. He said she could start again this same day. She had been missed sorely. She thanked him and said she'd think about it. Then she went to the beach and cried.

It took her only another day to call the number she knew by heart. Her fingers trembled. No one answered. She tried again and again. She listened into the void that only echoed silence.

That night she went to the club to work out.

She'd always felt great after physical exertion. She' d spun and lifted and stretched for hours, gradually emptying her mind. Then she'd taken an extended shower. And she'd felt all her disturbing thoughts rinse off her with the sweat.

This night she slipped into her blue lycra outfit and walked into the mirrored hall. All the memories crowded back into her head. The sheer ecstasy of meeting Angique. Silently she started her exercise.

The gym had always been a place for her to be with friends. It was an opportunity to talk and share experiences. This night few of her friends and acquaintances had shown up. She found it hard to find small talk. She answered all questions about her stay in far away Italy with vague and bland remarks. Then all curiosity dried up. Of course she knew she acted strange. But she did not know how to find her way back to the spontaneous Kristie they knew.

She had always considered showering after a work out the second best experience her body could give her. But today it wasn't. She felt tense. Her mind never shut down. Maybe it was because of her period. It had started on the flight back. But she knew it couldn't be just that.

Why had she ever given in to that woman? Had it been love? Ah, yes, it was so easy to love her. But why did it have to make her life so complicated? Before, her life had been straight and easy. Or had it? Oh, she didn't know. She just knew that she felt restless now. She felt incomplete as she walked home to her apartment.

The night was quiet and balmy.

She heard the sea, way off. And wafts of oleander and honeysuckle reached her over the ever present smell of traffic. They stirred her soul with nagging memories of mountains, lakes and gardens. Oh, stuff it! she muttered and tried to give her step a spring. Her well used muscles glowed and rolled easily inside her loose sweat suit.

Why was it? Why didn't things thrill her anymore? Why did she feel so utterly bored? And what was this feeling of betrayal? Her body felt so hungry, so deprived. It felt as if she starved it. As if she robbed it of the passions it craved. Can one betray one's body? Can one steal from it what it has a right to? Could a mind take a body for hostage? Ah, stop this, Kristie!

Before this, she had never considered something like a body and a mind, separately. She was Kristie, the young, spontaneous creature. There was never a problem that could not be worked out of her system. Literally. Never a sadness that could not be solved with a hug and a good cry. Never a frustration that could not dissolve in the thralls of a great orgasm. And now…dammit, Angique, what have you done to me? Where is my life?

The footsteps must have been behind her for a while. Leather soles, male strides. She looked over her shoulder. The figure was a silhouette against the dark, but she recognized it. He was a guy from the club, a coloured guy. What was his name? Dick? Derek. Pretty well built, with a well-toned body. Not at all the body builder type, though.

His sweet tenor voice greeted her.

She walked slower to let him get alongside her. She said hi and smiled. Then she said she hadn't seen him at the gym. He told her he had only been there for a drink. He wanted to know where she had been these weeks. She told him she'd been to Europe and he said, well, Europe! And she laughed at the way he said it and he laughed with her.

She then felt the presence of another person.

She looked and saw it was a very tall man. He was much darker than Derek. His face punched a hole in the night. And it became even blacker when he flashed a smile. He said hi with a rich dark baritone and told her his name was Jerome.

Kristie turned to Derek, questioningly. He shrugged and said that Jerome was his friend. He was a very good friend. And the two men laughed.

Derek then said that it maybe wasn't wise for a girl to walk home alone at night. She watched his face. Then she laughed at a rather nervous pitch. What did he mean? She was suddenly not sure at all that she liked this.

"I have walked this stretch alone for years," she said. She tried to chuckle.

Derek's face was serious. He thought things had got worse these last weeks. He felt it his duty to escort her home. She protested. He insisted. The tall guy said nothing.

The rest of the way was spent in uncomfortable silence.

At the entrance to the apartment building she thanked the men. She assured them she was perfectly okay and wished them goodnight. Then the tall guy stepped forward. He told her to shut the fuck up. His voice was calm, even friendly. His eyes were steady in their black-in-black frame. He said she was far too slutty a white trash whore to go to bed without the benefice of his cunt stretching cock.

A hot flame of fear flashed through her body.

She stared up into this black, inscrutable face. She was a little bird, not even blinking. And she heard a tiny voice stutter: "Yes sir."

They went upstairs. Her head swam.

The tall Negro clutched her upper arm. She felt detached. A glass wall separated her from the outside world. The glass was warm and felt like velvet. Not a word was spoken.

She undressed for them as soon as they were inside her snug apartment. The little string of her tampon dangled between her thighs. They did not seem to mind.

She unzipped the fly of the tall guy's pants and took his cock into her mouth. She had never sucked a black cock. It felt huge on her tongue. He fucked her face. She let his fat crown pass the sentinel of her throat's entrance. She never gagged.

He then started to hump her face.

She noticed how fingers explored her raised ass. A hand avoided her tampon filled cunt. It found her wakening clit. She moaned around the cock.

The men were quite vocal about her. They praised her talents in the most obscene of languages. Their never-ending flow of words was riddled with racist offences. But what really disgusted her was that she did not feel offended at all. All she felt was reassurance, even pride.

For the first time since she had come back from Italy, she felt at ease, relaxed. At last she had arrived at a place she understood. All tenseness dissipated. She felt calm, almost serene.

Slick fingers ran in and out of her ass hole. Then the second cock invaded her. It filled her ass to the brim.

She came twice.

She had never had sex during her period. It felt dirty. It thrilled her. She felt the tampon swell with her floods of stained juices. That and the two cocks filled all her holes.

There was nothing left to wish for.

Then Derek spilled his sperm into her. And when Jerome took out his monstrous cock to empty it all over her face and hair, she smiled.

She thanked him. They did not have to ask.

When they had gone, she took a scalding shower. She scrubbed her skin to rawness. She flushed the sperm and pink fluids into the sink. Then she sank into a white tiled corner.

The water drowned her upturned face.

So this is Kristie now, she thought. A slut. She can only relax when she's raped, fucked and ravaged. She feels pride at being humiliated. She begs to be used and abused. My God, Angique, what have you done to Kristie, she wailed. But she knew it wasn't Angique she ought to blame. The pale, black haired woman had only shown her who she was. She had ignited the flame. The fuel had always been there.

Maybe she cried. Maybe sobs shook her shoulders. But the drumming shower washed it all away.

She renewed her tampon. She wrapped her glowing body in a nice, dry teddy robe. Then she once more punched the number into her cell phone. There was a void as wide as the ocean. It was a silence that even swallowed her heartbeat.

She went to bed and dreamt of nothing.

The next day she spent mostly in bed. She not even let herself be lured outside by the glorious sun. She masturbated until her clit was a raw mess. She did not know why. Her body insisted. After each orgasm she sank into a pit of dull despair. But not even half an hour later her fingers once more touched the tender nub.

Her hands and thighs were a mess. They were smeared with the blood of her period. She did not care. She used her old vibrator until all batteries in the house were empty. Then she used the handle of her brush, the neck of an empty bottle.

She slept less than two hours in a row. But she hardly left her bed. The next morning was almost afternoon, really. She had some yoghurt on her balcony that gave her a glimpse of the sea. Her mother called. She said everything was all right, but no, she did not feel well. She had her period and had no time to have coffee with her. She hung up and moaned because of the lie.

Then she spooned some yoghurt into her cunt and started rubbing it in. At first it felt cool and slippery. Then the familiar burn set in. The pain died. Another pale climax flooded her.

The sun was hot. She decided to take a swim and stay on the beach for a while. She masturbated twice in the shadow of an umbrella. One hand was inside her bikini briefs. The other was inside the flimsy top.

Two sun tanned beach bums saw her at it. She knew them. She invited them to do her in the shed where they kept their boards. She blew both their cocks and received them in her cunt and ass hole. They left her on the planked floor. They did not say good bye.

The next evening she sat on her tiny balcony once more. She toyed with a salad. But she wasn't hungry at all. Her brain buzzed. It had buzzed all day. She was restless and incredibly horny. It seemed impossible for her to focus or even concentrate. And impossible not to touch herself. But she had decided to stop the crazy rollercoaster of bleak and hasty climaxes.

Not that her body agreed.

She had shaved her pussy carefully this morning. It oozed drops of fluid all day. She'd had to change her panties twice. Her ringed nipple chaffed at the inside of her bikini top. Even the inside of her soft terry robe made her nipples burn. Her hands trembled.

She had never felt like this in the Villa. She had always been horny and excited there. But it was never like this. Here, there was no joy in it, no reason for it. There seemed to be no focus to her arousal. She had hoped her mood would change with the ending of her period. But she felt hornier than before.

She put the salad into the refrigerator. Then she emptied the glass of red wine and poured a second. Sipping it, she went to her bedroom. On the bed were two bags. They were from shops she had visited this afternoon. Shops she had never been to before.

The first bag was black with golden letters around a couple of kissing doves. Out of it she took a slithering top in liquid silver. She had tried it on in the booth of the shop. What she had seen in the mirror was outrageously sexy. She immediately took it off. But she had bought it nevertheless. And she took a stretch tube skirt in shining black to go with it. She had also bought lovely sheer silk stockings with lace elastic tops. But no underwear.

The other bag was brilliantly white. On it was a black, slashing logo. From it she took two severely heeled mules. They had narrow silver straps that gave her ankles no support whatsoever.

She had no idea why she had gone there and bought the items. She had no idea why it felt so good to watch herself in them. She did not know why she loved the liquid fabric to lick her skin. Before her stay at the Villa all her clothes had been in line with her sports loving image. And the no-nonsense decency of her family.

She emptied the glass and once more took a long shower. Then she stretched the tight silver top over her chest. It hugged her damp skin. And it kissed her nipples in a way that made her shiver.

The ring pressed its little loop into the soft fabric.

She wriggled into the black skirt. Then she carefully slid the stockings up her shaven legs. Their tops just reached the hem of the skirt. It took all her concentration not to wobble on the high-heeled mules.

She felt incredibly sexy. The sensuous material hugged her. It made her bare skin tingle. In a few minutes she would go down and slide into a cab undressed like this. The thought baffled her. Especially since it didn't cause her any fear at all. It just made her pussy drool.

She avoided watching herself in the mirror. She sat down and did her hair and make up, only seeing her face. Tonight Florida would know a new Kristie. Made up as sexy as she was dressed. She put silver and green over her eyes. She used fat, black lashes to put them in mysterious shades. And a deep blood red coating on her shining lips.

At last she stood and saw herself in the floor to ceiling mirror. Her knees went liquid, her brain melted.

Who was this girl? Where had Kristie gone? And she knew. She had stopped being the Kristie her friends and family knew. Even the Kristie she herself knew. Something had shifted in her mind to never return where it came from. She smiled at the girl she saw. She knew she was her now. But she also knew that she was not. She was like a puppet that was her own puppeteer. Like a sculptor sculpting a smile on lips that were at once her own and not.