Secret Lovers

I don't help me with all of her toy, or all of the time. I understand that some of them wouldn't react well to an 18-year-old budding dominatrix. And it's not like she's just going to give me her toys. What she is doing is teaching me the tricks of D/s, letting me play with some of the more open toys to see what excites me and what might not. So far, I haven't found anything that didn't excite me. Although I have to admit, there's nothing like turning a guy -- or a girl -- over my knees for a good spanking, and then toying with that bottom.

The first time mom finally agreed to let me do anything, at least anything that involved the toy taking some clothes off, it was with a mom-aged woman. I thought for sure it was going to be "all business for me," that if anyone excited me, it would be younger guys. Guys my age. Cute ones. But the instant that woman started shyly taking her clothes off, I started getting unbearably hot. That's when I understood what mom had been trying to teach me, that it's not about the toy's body, they're just toys. It's about the power, the control, the reigning over another. The toy's gender didn't make a difference. Since then I've come to realize that I prefer older toys, in their 30s and 40s. They're still young enough not to have bodies that look ready for the rest home, but it so clearly so much more humiliating for them to submit to such a young woman. And that gets me so hot it takes all of my will power not to stop and play with myself.

Still, mom and I talk about the games all of the time. At least daily. Sometimes keeping each other up on what the toys are up to, sometimes swapping ideas for what new torments we could subject them to, sometimes sharing fresh gossip from her little circle of like-minded friends, and sometimes telling me what new opportunities she has. I knew today, a Saturday afternoon she was going to drive across the bridge into Mobile to meet a woman who wanted to play. I knew the woman was married, that she's a newbie -- never played before -- and that her husband has little interest in her games. I knew they have a couple of younger kids, like grade school age.

I knew this woman told mom that she's always wanted to "live as someone's slave," but never dared to admit that openly and tell anyone before. She finally talked to her husband, and they agreed she could explore her fantasies, so long as she found a woman, not another man. I laughed hard at that condition, even though I know a few other husbands have imposed the same one. Nowadays, like it makes any difference! Girls marry girls, too, now. And to my generation, it's like, so what? I never asked what mom had in mind of the woman because I could guess. She's let me do "first looks" which are kind of like job interviews for toys where we just try to gauge what the toy might be interested in and he or she will respond to different things. I'd imagine she's going to do roughly what I would do. What I did just two weeks ago.

So I went shopping with my three BFFs, Izzy (Isabelle), Reagan and Ellie. We'd been at "the mall," which is just a strip of boutiques, not a real mall, for about an hour when I get a text from mom. HELP, Pepper! I got here and Debra not only has her kids here, but she has her BF Liz over as well. Liz wants to stay! I think those two might be BFFs, but both might have an interest in being more than BFFs! Hubbies went fishing, back around 6, and left the kids. What jerks. I'm tempted to spank them! They deserve it for that! I'm sure it's an underhanded ploy to throw a wrench in Debra's fun. Want to take Liz for me? She's 36, 5'6"-ish and 140#-ish, dark hair. Also if one of the girls wants to babysit and take these kids down to the park or where-ever just OUT OF HERE, It's on these two. $50+whatever she spends, back at 6. Interested or am I on my own?

I drove the four of us here, but it's only a couple of miles from home -- we all live within a couple of blocks. That's because I'm the only one with a car, and it's new. It's an older Mazda Miata convertible that I bought cheaply and had repainted in pastel green, which is my absolute favorite color and makes this car just so tiny and cute! I bought it with the money Mom paid me for helping her with a parenting training project for some toys of one of her friends. I just ask the girls "That's my mom. She's off playing her games and needs my help. She also said to ask if one of you wants to come along and take this woman's kids somewhere -- anywhere but home -- until 6:00. they'll pay $50+expenses, and you won't be there, so you won't have to see anything."

I know some of the girls, especially Reagan, lap up my stories, or what piece of them I tell, but definitely do not want to actually see any of it. It's Ellie who fairly quickly says "I could use the money." the others defer. We all know that Ellie's parents probably make less than ours do, and money is a little tighter over there. Not bad tight, she gets the same allowance we all do, but still, a little tighter. Izzy and Reagan say they'll just Uber home, which we do all the time, or did until I got a car. I text back: Yes. Am I just interviewing Liz? Ellie will disappear the kids. OTW, ETA 30. send address.

Mom very quickly texts me back the address, which Ellie punches into the GPS as I'm driving. I already knew she was in Mobile, and there are only three ways across the bay. I hadn't made the bridge yet when I get the address. About two minutes later my phone dings again, and this is a longer one. Ellie offers to read it to me, adding that she promises to forget whatever it might say. I tell her to go on, knowing she's going to get a good giggle out of it. Whatever. She's not even supposed to be here. I should leave but this might get fun. Definitely needs punished for her presumptuousness. Otherwise, I don't know anything about her. Toy around, do whatever to her, have fun. Let me know if you agree they have a secret desire to be together. I think they want us to make them do it. Let me know. Maybe I just will.

"OMG!" Ellie adds at the end, "that is so freaky!"

"Which?" I comment, "wanting to sleep with your BFF, or the punishment you know I'm going to give that girl?" I giggle loudly.

"BOTH!" Ellie squeals.

When I pull up behind mom's car, I see the front door open and mom walking three kids out, none of them older than about the third grade. She brings them to the car. To me, she says very softly, I don't want them to see anything. I send moms to the corners as I walked them out. She tells Ellie that there's a park down the street, a bunch of fast food places, and "whatever else" is around. I offer Ellie my car, which she jumps on, and loads the kids up. I'll be here right at six unless I hear otherwise from you. And she drives off very cautiously. She's like that, careful.

I follow mom in and she takes Debra to her bedroom. I leave Liz waiting in her corner like a naughty little girl for a couple of more minutes. When I'm good and ready, I step up behind her and get a good, tight hand full of hair. I pull enough to make sure she feels it, but not to hurt her. "Listen closely, bitch. I am Miss Rodgers. I don't know what fallacy made you think you'd be welcome to join Ms. Rodgers and that other skank, but since you are here, you now belong to me. I own you. I own your body. I own your brain. I own your pussy. I own you.

"You are not going to speak, unless spoken to, and then only to answer me very humbly, more politely, even more respectfully, and formally. I don't care what you want. I don't care what you like. I don't care what hurts you. You have no privacy. You have no modesty. You have nothing. You are nothing. Is that clear, bitch?"

"Yes... Ma'am." She answers.

"Then face me, bitch." I loosen my grip and let her turn around. Then I quickly tighten my grip up as I see the shock on her face. I know why. she expected someone mom's age. Someone close to her age. Instead, she has a 18-year-old girl, and I'm very petite except for my boobs, so I look 18, standing in front of her. I don't give her a chance to do anything. I drag her by her hair forward a half dozen hurried steps into the kitchen. There I release her and Immediately command her to "give me that blouse, bitch." I hold my hand out, watching her closely as she reluctantly takes her blouse off.

Unfortunately for her, Liz isn't wearing a whole lot. I don't see any jewelry. She puts her blouse in my hand. I toss in into the garbage beside me and hold my hand back out, telling her to "give me that bra, bitch." She parts even more reluctantly with that. I see her arm starting to come up to cover her breasts as she slips the straps off her shoulders. I crack the tip of my crop hard on her forearm and listen as she yelps out loudly. Then I scold her "I told you, no modesty. Arms at your sides. Those flabby boobs can just hang out." She hands me the bra and I toss that in the trash, too. Then I get her jeans, tossing those as well. Then her panties, letting me see that her pubes are shaved smooth and that she has thin pussy lips. Lastly, I get her sandals and toss them as well.

I know Liz doesn't live here. I doubt she has any spare clothes here. I don't know if she's close enough in size to borrow any from Debra or not. But I do hope it sinks in that she doesn't have any clothes to put on unless she wants to dig hers out of the trash. Any way it goes, it's going to make her trip home this evening rather uncomfortable for her.

I sort of kick a chair out from the dining table with my foot. I grab hold of Liz's hair again, getting a nice tight grip. I would have preferred to get a hand full of pubes, but that's not possible so I go for the next best thing. I drag her along with me. "Come along, you stupid bitch." I drop down to sit in the chair, pulling Liz down to her knees. "I can't believe you thought you'd just show up and Ms. Rodgers would want your ugly, flabby, bottom!"

I pull her hard over my knees. "Now you're going to learn not to be such a presumptuous bitch. You will stay still. You will not say a word. You will not cover your bottom. You will lie there and feel the nice sting as I blister that fat butt until I think you're sorry for imposing on Ms. Rodgers like that!"

She quickly braces her hands against the floor, her knees lightly touching the floor on my other side. I have one thigh in the crease where he waist bends, the other just under her hanging breasts. I brought a couple of paddles with me. For Liz' bottom, I've selected on that's about 18" long, 4" wide and ½" thick, made from a lightweight but very strong wood and polished up to a nice shine.

I lie that blade of the paddle along the soft cheeks of her still rounded bottom. I might insult every bit of her appearance, but in truth, she doesn't look bad at all. I lightly caress her cheeks with the paddle, letting her feel the stiff wood. Then I bring it up and snap it down with my full strength.

The paddle lands square across the center of her bottom with a crack like lightning. Liz screeches out a loud pained yelp "OW! OW! That hurts too much!"

"And now it doesn't count, bitch. I said no talking, let's just start over." I lift the paddle back up, letting me see that there's a pink stripe across her buns, but it's not as bad as she's acting like it is. SO I give her another, and she screeches out again. This time she remembers not to say anything, just yelps that pained "OW!" There's no extra stroke. That's because I'm not counting strokes, I'm just going to paddle her bottom until it's good and sore.

I give her another stroke and Liz bursts into tears and sobs after crying out her yelp. But as I lift the paddle, her cheeks are still only pink, not red. So I give her another good swat. This one starts her bawling like a baby. But it doesn't spare her. I give her another, and another, feeling her stiffen hard and listening to her cry away as I spank away.

She gets about a dozen strokes until I see that her bottom is glowing a bright, angry red. Almost like a fire truck. That's how sore I wanted her bottom to be.

With her lying over my knees and crying so hard I can barely think, I reach my hand down to the flat lips of her pussy and stroke my finger along her slit. I feel her wetness for the briefest of instants, then Liz shrieks out and her legs come flying up. I pick up the paddle, swat her bottom hard again, and scold her "Behave your naughty bottom, bitch."

I put my fingertip back to her slit and start tracing a line up her sopping wet slit. She shrieks out a tortured, but very erotic cry. I keep going, tracing my way all the way up to her tightly puckered asshole. I let my fingertip rest atop her ring, and taunt her "I'll fuck this, too, if I want to, bitch." I feel her cringe. Then I start tracing down again.

I stop when I get to the top of her slit. I slowly inch my finger through her lips, feeling her steamy wetness and then the burning heat. My finger starts sliding into her pussy. I feel her lightly twitching walls clamp down to snuggle my finger. I hear Liz cry out a single, long, drawn-out, and deeply erotic moan over her sobs.

Once my small finger is as deeply inside her as it can get, I start wiggling the tip of it and teasing her pussy. She sucks a hard fast breath, then lets go another of her drawn-out sultry moans, now lightly trembling as she lies over my knees. I keep going and watch as she trembles a little more and hear her moans grow needier and drown out her sobs.

"You're not being slutty and liking this, are you? For God's sake, I'm a GIRL! Are you some kind of dyke or something, bitch?"

"NO, Ma'am!" She insists firmly, but keeps moaning out loudly, and crying just as loudly. I have to say it's an odd combination. And I find this very arousing. In fact, if it keeps getting me hot like this, I might just have to go out tonight and find me a hook-up to tear up.

I tease her for around two minutes until it's so plain that she's getting close to climaxing before I slip my finger back out of her pussy. I put it right back up to her asshole and this time I press lightly, putting some pressure on her muscle. I feel her tense up. Not just her asshole, but all of her as she cringes.

I press a little more and push the honey-lubricated tip of my finger into her butt. She squeals a pained yelp as I push into her and stretch her ring to let my finger through. I bury my finger as deeply as I can reach, here, too. Then I press downward lightly, pushing against the nervy and hungry backside of her pussy walls through the fine membrane of her butt. My finger wiggles for a couple of seconds, no more, before she's shivering as she lies over me. Then she starts moaning again.

In a few short seconds, she's moaning just as eagerly and passionately as she was when I was teasing her pussy.

"Now you're just being an impatient bitch!" I scold her. I yank my finger out of her bottom fairly quickly, getting a little yelp from her. "I have just the thing to teach a bitch patience!"

It's a disposable enema. ½ liter. Basically, a bottle of water with a 6" nozzle on its end. It's not the full-bag enema like I prefer to use, but it's good for a quickie. Like now. I don't tell what's coming. I don't say a word, I just reach down and pull it from my bag of tricks, pop the little cap off the nozzle, and push the tube right into her asshole. She squeals a little as the pencil-thick tube, slick with jelly, slips easily into her bottom.

"OH MY GOD!" She screeches out, "NO!! Please, Ma'am, Please don't do this to me!" I know then that she feels the first drops of the water flowing into her bottom. I swat her fiery sore bottom with my hand, a nice little spanking "for being a noisy bitch." I keep squeezing, pushing more liquid into her, filling her more and more.

She doesn't even have half of it when she cries out again, "Please, Ma'am, Oh, God, please, I'm begging, you. It's too much! At least don't make me take so much. I can't! Please, Ma'am!!" She cries out, then adds, "I can't take this much, ma'am, please!" I spank her bottom again, telling her to "shut up, bitch." and I keep squeezing, knowing full well that she can take it all. There's plenty of room up her butt. I know. I just had my finger in there. She shrieks out agonized cries as I fill her backside up.

When it's empty I pull the tube back out of her. Only then do I push the crying woman up off my knees and onto hers. I stand up, and toss the used bottle in the trash, right atop her clothes. I point to my chair and tell her to "Sit. And I don't care that your butt is sore. That's your fault, not mine. Next time behave yourself, bitch."

As soon as her bottom touches the chair she cries out. I snap for her to sit like a lady, getting her legs crossed right over left, back straight, eyes forward, and hands folded in her lap. She sits fidgeting, trying hard not to move on her stinging bottom, and unable to sit still with her bottom so full.

I stand over her. "Patience, bitch, patience." I tease with a little giggle to my voice. "Now, while you're sitting there showing me you can be patient, let's not waste time. You weren't invited today, bitch. Who are you?"

"Elizabeth Holly Parnell, Ma'am." She blabbers on telling me that she's Debra's BFF and that she knew Debra shared her interest, and unlike her had found someone to play with her. When their husbands took of fishing and left Debra with her kids, Debra called her to watch the boys while mom was here. She came over, arriving just before mom did intentionally, hoping to meet mom. Which she did. I slap her face and tell her to quit blabbering and just answer my questions. I'll get the rest of the story later, but certainly, she said something to mom, and for whatever reason, mom decided to let her stay. And asked me to punish her for coming. Fine by me. I'm having great, and hot, fun watching her sit there miserably and suffer.

I ask her her bra size. It's one thing a woman either boasts about or hates mentioning. She tells me that she's a 36-B, which isn't great, but it's definitely not anything to be embarrassed about. I've seen much smaller boobs than her. Not everyone can be a 32-D, like me,

After a few more questions, I ask her if she likes Debra. She says yes, they're best friends. I ask her if she's ever been with a woman, and she hurriedly assures me that she hasn't. I ask her if Debra is pretty. She says yes, she's attractive.

I remind her to sit still. Then I gently take her spongy breast in my hand, cupping it by its underside and tenderly teasing her nipple with my thumb. She purrs softly. "Am I pretty?" She says that I am. "Do you like my touch on your little titty?" This time she hesitates before telling me that it does "feel nice."

Still stroking her nipple, I ask her if she'd like me to take her to the toilet now. She very pleadingly says yes. I tell her "tough, I'm not done playing with my new bitch toy yet." I keep teasing her breast, then after a few more seconds I ask her "Do I have nicer breasts than Debra?"

She tells me that she doesn't know how to answer that. Mine are definitely bigger and look to be perkier. I slap her face with my free hand and scold her for "looking at my boobies like some dyke bitch." Then I giggle and add "but they are nice. All the guys think so, anyway."

I shift my hand to tease her other breast. Once she's purring again, I ask her if Debra's breasts are pretty. She tells me she thinks so. I ask if she's ever seen them. She tells me "not fully," she's only seen Debra in a bra or swimsuit or something like that, never nude.

"Didn't you think there might be some nudity today?" She tells me she thought there might be "something." Clearly, she did not expect to sit still letting a teenage girl feel her him, while her bottom wanted to explode. Her fiery sore and stinging bottom that I'll be she'd do about anything to not be sitting on right now.