Lydia leans down and kisses me roughly. I open up for her, offering no resistance, pressing my lips against hers as she explores my mouth with her tongue. She bites my bottom lip, then pulls away. I stretch out my tongue as if to summon her back, but she stands up and I know better than to speak. She looks me up and down, and I can tell she's admiring the state she's put me in.
When I dressed this morning, I was dressing for the moment I would knock on her dorm room door after class. My blouse is almost see-through, my pleated skirt just short enough that it's dangerous to bend over, my bra and panties the baby-pink set I know she likes so much. I even put on a pair of white knee-length socks. At a few months short of twenty years old, I won't be able to pull off this kind of thing for much longer. I might as well rock it while I can.
Lydia's contribution to my look are the ropes. My hands are tied firmly behind my back. My ankles are bound together, and ropes from my thighs to the bed force my knees apart. It's one of her favourite positions to put me in, especially when I'm dressed so innocently, and she's become so good at bondage that the ropes feel perfect—not tight enough to hurt, exactly, but firm and snug in a way that constantly reminds me I'm her plaything. Then there's my general state of disarray. After twenty minutes of being thoroughly teased by her lips and hands and words, I feel like one of her art pieces—sitting bound on the bed, hair tousled, blouse undone, skirt pulled up to reveal what I know must already be a wet patch on my panties.
She reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone. "Eight megapixel camera!" she texted me excitedly when she got it last week. Without really meaning to, I moan slightly and thrust out my tits. I can feel my nipples get rock-hard beneath my bra.
Lydia laughs. "You like that, don't you, my pet? You like it when I take pictures of you when you're all dolled up like this."
I can only nod. Lydia laughs again.
That's when the door opens.
Lydia and I both look over at the same moment. There's Chelsea, whom I know lives down the hall from Lydia, holding a calculator and looking about as shocked as I feel.
"Um, sorry," she says. "I was just...I wanted to borrow your calculus book...I'll just...go...I'm sorry." But she continues to stand in the doorway. She's looking at me, but not at my face. I can feel her eyes moving all over my body.
"Um, sure," says Lydia. "The book's right here." She grabs it from her desk and hands it to Chelsea.
Chelsea doesn't move. "What are you guys doing?" she asks. She moistens her lips with her tongue.
"Playing," says Lydia nonchalantly. Then, smiling one of those smiles I love to fear, she asks, "Want to join in?"
Chelsea steps into the room, closing the door behind her. "What are you going to do to her?" she asks.
"Well, when you walked in I was about to take some pictures," says Lydia, gesturing to her phone. "Just for personal use, of course. The slut likes to look at them while she touches herself. Isn't that right, Amy?"
Chelsea looks at me, and I nod, not meeting her gaze. I wonder if the two of them can see that I'm wetter now than when Chelsea first came in.
"That sounds fun," says Chelsea. This is a side of Chelsea I've never seen. We're reasonably close—I've trusted her with some minor secrets—but we've never even talked about sex before.
"Oh, it is," smiles Lydia. "Is there anything you'd especially like to do to her?"
Chelsea bites her lip. Once again, I feel her looking me up and down. "That skirt..." she says finally. "It just makes you want to pull it up and spank her cute little ass, doesn't it?"
Lydia laughs. "I like the way you think," she says. Then, turning to me, "Do you want this, Amy? Is this OK?"
I nod. OK? I can't even count the number of times I've made myself cum imagining scenarios like this one. Lydia and I have talked about involving someone else, but we weren't sure where to start looking. And now someone's literally come to our door.
"Of course she wants it," laughs Lydia. "I bet it's making her so wet." Chelsea smiles. "OK," says Lydia, "A few things first. Her safeword is pineapple. If you hear that, you stop, no questions asked. And also, this stays between us, at least for now. After all, we don't want to share a pretty little pet like Amy with just anyone, do we?"
"Got it," says Chelsea. She licks her lips again, then asks, "Can I touch her?"
Lydia nods. "I bet she'd really like that. Wouldn't you, slut?"
I just moan. Chelsea sits down on the bed near my bound body. She pushes my bra up so my tits are exposed, then starts playing with my nipples. Her touch is so light it teases. I push my chest out so I can press my breasts into her hands.
"You can go a lot harder than that," says Lydia. "She's a little painslut, my Amy. She likes things rough."
"Cool," says Chelsea. "So can I do this?" She pulls on my right nipple so hard I whimper.
"Totally," says Lydia. "She loves it. Look how wet you're making her."
It's true. I feel so aroused I wouldn't be surprised if I'm dripping onto Lydia's sheets.
Chelsea looks down. "Wow," she says. "She's soaking." She looks at Lydia, who's taken a seat on the chair beside the bed and is staring at Chelsea and me. "Can I take her panties off?" asks Chelsea.
"You'll have to untie her legs for that," says Lydia, "so let me just get a few pictures first." Chelsea gets up, and Lydia raises her phone. "Smile for the camera, my pretty little pet," she says, and I look at her with a face that's probably more debauched than smiling. She nods her head and takes one, two, three, four, five shots, including one close up of the wet patch in my panties. Then she steps back and nods.