When Jonathan started dating Suzy in college, she told him she was a lesbian. She also told him she was making a special exception for him, and no, he couldn't 'join in' with her and her girlfriend, Leslie But as long as he was cool with that, then Leslie was cool with that, and they could all be poly-amorous and happy and relaxed.
Jonathan was as fine with it as you might expect. Although he did get curious, and just a little bit wistful, and he did a lot of hinting around about maybe having a special birthday treat, about getting down with both girls together. A guy can dream, right?
That was until he knew more about what they actually got up to, together, when Suzy spent the night with Leslie and left him on his lonesome. Not that he didn't imagine plenty, even without any solid info! But then Suzy got drunk a couple of times and started hinting around, and he got a clearer picture of what was going on. The vanilla stuff was quite enough to rev his motor: she talked about eating each other out, about a little gentle bondage and doing each other from behind, kneeling, with a strap-on. But although that was plenty, it was what followed that litany that really had him drooling and ready to fall to his knees and beg.
He'd always had a thing for discipline. And to be much more specific, he had a very specific thing for discipline between two women. Maybe a couple of nuns whipping each other with those little miniature scourges they used. Always and forever, a bare bottom spanking between a gorgeous blonde and a severe older woman, maybe a secretary type. Maybe a leather-clad dominatrix wielding a whip on a sexy redhead clad only in a bikini, or a thong, even less.
When it came right down to it, he was pretty flexible. As long as it involved one gorgeous sexy woman spanking, caning or whipping another beautiful lady, he was ready to be there in any capacity whatsoever. That didn't necessarily need to involve an active element of participation: if it came right down to it he would be happy enough with a seat at the edge of the room and a role fetching and carrying various beautifully adorned instruments of correction. Heck, they could have tied him up in a corner of the room and forgotten about him, and he'd still have been as happy as a sand-boy!
It took, though, an awful lot of begging for Suzy to even consider it as a possibility. And not only begging -- which, truth be told, Jonathan wasn't only happy to do, but was actually a little bit turned on by. So, a winner all round. No, in addition to that he had to do her innumerable favours. There was all kinds of errand-running, lending of delicate and expensive audio and media technology, his favourite Fossil watch, and picking her and her crowd up for what basically amounted to a taxi run whenever they decided to spontaneously hang out and go clubbing until the small hours.
But in the end it was all totally worth it, because in the end, Suzy agreed to run the idea past Leslie, at least. Of course, Suzy reminded him sternly, if Leslie said it was no dice, then it was no dice, and she didn't want to hear any further nagging from him on the subject. Didn't he think he was lucky enough to be allowed access to her fun-bags and the various other delights of her ample body on a semi-regular basis, as her whims took her? (And yes, the answer was that he did consider himself lucky. Suzy was scorching hot.)
He was absolutely in suspense, on tenterhooks all evening, the night Suzy had agreed to bring the subject up with Leslie And then, when she'd promised to text him immediately with the verdict, of course she did no such thing. Not only that, but his own increasingly eager (or frantic) texts went ignored. And in the morning, she put him off via a highly minimalist and uncommunicative email when he wanted to meet up at the first available opportunity for morning coffee. Eventually, the only and earliest time he could pin her down to, was a beer at the bar opposite his fraternity association office late in the afternoon.
By that time of course he wasn't expecting much. If it had been good news, wouldn't she have been eager to tell him all about it? So when she walked into the dark shadows of his corner of the bar -- red hair messy, wild curves tamed by her tight tube top and skinny jeans -- he was steeling himself for a pretty brutal rejection. It wasn't as if Suzy ever saw any reason to mince her words.
'Okay, you're in,' were her first words as she pushed up against him, round the table and into the most comfortable spot on the squeaky old vinyl seating. She never wasted any time getting right to the heart of a matter, either.
Jonathan just gaped at her, and she gave him an irritable shove to the shoulder. 'What? Stop looking at me like someone just scooped out your brains and served them to you in a cone. You wanted it, you've been whining for weeks... I talked to Leslie, and she's agreeable to the suggestion.'
Jon's mind and heart and, frankly, loins, were immediately on fire, and he sat up straighter in his excitement. Quite erect in fact. Suzy eyed him narrowly, and poked a finger in his broad, t-shirted chest. 'Of course, that agreement comes with a set of extremely strict conditions.'
Jonathan sagged slightly, his erect posture of a moment previously forgotten. Nothing was ever plain and simple with Suzy, and everything had to be bargained and paid for in the end. 'Shoot,' he said. He figured that whatever it was, it'd be well worth it. Just as long as it was something, or some things, that he could actually do.
But Suzy just waved him off lazily. 'Don't worry about it just now. Leslie's going to put it all in writing: isn't she the legal eagle? You can read the small print and add your autograph when you come round for your walk-on part. And you come round tonight. Eight sharp, don't be late or we won't answer the door. Because we'll be busy. Now get me a beer.'
Jonathan was still a little apprehensive about those terms and conditions. He would have liked to know more about them before being asked to sign his name to something containing them. But he got Suzy her beer. It never paid to argue a point with Suzy
Of course he turned up on the dot that same evening, at Leslie's house and smartly dressed just like Suzy had sternly warned him. When he rang the doorbell, he didn't altogether know what he was expecting. But it wasn't having to repeatedly knock and wait for a good eight minutes or so -- continually checking his watch and cell-phone to confirm that, yes, he was definitely not late. Of course, he thought, it might just be Suzy and Leslie's idea of a joke. Maybe neither of them had ever intended to let him in on the action. Maybe there was a hidden camera recording his every move and this was all just a huge joke to them. It was tremendously depressing as a thought.
He was dispirited enough by it that his shoulders sagged, he leaned against the door-frame and his attention wandered for a moment. So it was a bit of a shock when the front door opened abruptly and Suzy peered out. She didn't seem eager to be spotted out on the street, and really there was very little wonder, considering what she was wearing. It was a French maid's outfit, if the said French maid had slightly adapted her outfit with a micro-skirted little PVC black dress and a miniature whip. But the rest of the ensemble, the little frilly white cap and the apron and everything, it was all present and correct, although the heels were a lot higher than he could imagine any bossy French madame putting up with in her servants.
He was in heaven, and he didn't even care when Suzy grabbed hold of his lapel (belonging to the very nice jacket of his only good suit) and dragged him indoors. She led him down a long corridor packed with typically untidy and devastated student bookshelves, tennis shoes, and old kit bags, and then swerved abruptly off to a door at the end on the left. When she opened it, it yawned open to reveal a flight of rickety iron steps. Down into a cellar, in fact. And, tingly euphoria aside, Jonathan was plenty smart enough to hesitate, and to wonder if that was altogether a good idea.
But he didn't have an awful lot of time to hang back and to debate. There was the shove of the flat of a hand between his shoulder-blades, and an impatient, 'Shit, Jon, get your ass in gear, okay? You down with this or not?' from dear, lovely, terrifying Suzy He guessed he'd better be down with it, since his feet were already stumbling down the tumble-down stairs, Suzy's heels plunking down after him, sharp and tinny.
She slammed the door shut as she took her first step, and it thundered out behind him as he climbed down, very ominous. Arriving blinking down at the bottom of the staircase, he looked around himself with some apprehension. But fortunately the environment he found himself in turned out to be a whole lot less serial-killer-style than he'd half expected given the past twenty seconds or so.
No. It was actually pretty cool. A big, clean, roomy cellar, well-lit, with white-painted walls and a few delicate black art nouveau dining room chairs set around the walls. For an audience?
But that wasn't the main focus of attention, anyway, none of that. What really caught the eye was the bed in the middle of the room, and taking up about a third of it. The bed, and the girl laid heaving and squirming on top of it.
That was the point -- as he stood and gaped -- that Suzy prodded him sharply in the back. 'Say hello to Leslie, man. You've met her before. Have a few fucking manners, Jesus, it wouldn't hurt you.'
'Hi, Leslie,' Jon managed, his voice squeaking just a bit. It was true, he'd met Leslie often enough before -- well, a few times. As lesbian girlfriends went, she seemed pretty tolerant, but he supposed there were limits to even her tolerance as far as keeping company with her girl's casual heterosexual fucks went.
However, on all previous occasions when he'd met her, she'd been fully and conservatively clothed. Well, conservatively compared to her current outfit, anyhow. Considering that that consisted of a shiny black latex bikini underwear set with thong panties, and some high-heeled red platform sandals.
