The Rapture 1

Warning: This story contains graphic scenes depicting humiliation, pain and watersports. It also depicts female submission. PLEASE do not read this story if you are offended by any of these topics.

Thank you to Jennifer M. for the inspiration behind her namesake in this story. I hope you find your Domme. Thank you Robert for your helpful comments.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.

Chapter One

"Elaine. If you keep our driver waiting one more minute I'm going to leave without you," my mother chirped with annoyance as she picked up her apartment keys and her wallet and dropped them in her clutch, snapping it shut.

"Relax Mom, I can always take a cab there." I was indifferent and belligerent, spending my last few weeks in my mother's co-op apartment in New York City before going to college. I didn't care if I pissed my Mom off and was highly judgmental about her single lifestyle. It really wasn't my place to judge anyone. I already spent time in juvenile detention and had experimented with all kinds of things that people my age had no right to know, let alone experience. But I was young, just having turned nineteen, and of course light years ahead of my mother in intellect.

I thought it was shallow and petty of her to dress up every weekend, meeting a different man, and then spending the night at her place while she dumped me off at my girlfriend's house so she'd have the place to herself. I didn't understand the needs of a divorced middle age woman for the affirmation that she was still beautiful and desirable. I only knew that a woman who slept with a different man every weekend was a slut. That was a harsh judgment and in retrospect unfair.

"Nonsense," she said in a haughty tone. "Good girls don't walk the streets of New York at night."

"Who said I was a good girl?" I was good at being snotty too.

She raised her hand as if to slap me, but thought better of it. "Fine," she sniffed. "Do what you want ... you always do." She waved her hand with her back to me and walked out the door, leaving it open. I watched her walk down the hall to the elevator, not bothering to look back at me. I pushed the door shut and walked back to my room to collect my things. My mother didn't know that I was dying to go to my girlfriend Rachel's place and would have gladly ridden with her. We were going to smoke some weed and then chase some boys we had our eyes on. I just didn't want to give my Mom the satisfaction of knowing that I wanted to go to stay with Rachel.

I rifled through my closet, picking out the sluttiest clothes I could find. My shortest skirts, skimpiest tops and highest heels. I tossed them into a backpack along with my travel kit. I slung one strap of the backpack over my shoulder and walked confidently out the door and down the hall. After a minute on the elevator I went through the marble tiled lobby, to receive a familiar salute from our night doorman Alfredo. I knew I had it working when Alfredo chin dropped as his eyes were glued on my ample cleavage. I gave him a sweet smile.

I took a cab to Rachel's place, a decidedly downstream neighborhood from our toney Upper East Side abode. There was no doorman. You just had to be buzzed into the building. The well-worn elevator was steps from the foyer. I hit Rachel's floor's button and up I went in an elevator cab with panels of graffiti marked stamped stainless steel. When I reached her floor I made sure I didn't trip on the tears in the hallway carpeting. Each door on the floor looked like it was armored. I knocked on Rachel's. Do you know the best part about Rachel's apartment? It was empty on Friday nights. Her parents worked the evening shift at a nearby hotel. They were gone all night Friday and Saturday.

Rachel's parents had already left for work, so Rachel answered the door in a sluttier outfit than mine. Her top was practically see through, so I could see her gorgeous nipples poking through the gauzy fabric. There was a delicate bow tied at the top to hold it together. "If I put that ribbon in my mouth and pull ...". My mind was starting to race as my eyes could not leave Rachel's luscious body.

" ... Tony and Kip will be there. So are you in on this?"

What was going through my mind? I was there to meet men. Somehow the sight of Rachel erased everything in my mind. I was lusting after her. I didn't know that I fancied women but I fancied her. My eyes were becoming narrow, almost dreamy.

" ... God damn it Elaine. You haven't been listening to me." She was cute when she was angry. She was really cute.

"I ... I want to kiss you." And that wasn't the half of it.

Rachel's face froze. Then it relaxed. "That's not the plan for tonight."

"I want you." I started walking close to her, within a foot. I could feel a heat radiating between us. There was a strong attraction - a mutual attraction. I could see Rachel's face become flush.

"Rae," I said in a soothing voice as I stroked her face with the back of my hand. Her head started falling to the side and her eyes closed.

"Rae. I want to make love to you." I took her in my arms and leaned forward to kiss her with her eyes closed. She smiled as my lips met hers and we mashed against each other, then parting our lips to have our tongues darted in and out while our heads gyrated to an unknown beat. Rachel was now babbling as I continued to kiss her. She kept stepping back until she hit the edge of her prized brown and tan mid-century modern sofa. Her ass plopped down as her knees gave way and she bounced slightly, enough to elevate her curly dark brown curls and her voluptuous tits and for them to bounce when she settled into the sofa. I was not one to waste time.

Rae was now laying on her side with her bent arm propping up her head. She paused and gave me a look that showed her vulnerable side. "I've been thinking ..." She reached over and twirled a strand of my hair with her fingers.

"About?"

"I was watching porn and ..."

I could see that Rae was struggling to tell me. I whispered in her ear, "Tell me."

"I want ... I want you to do things to me."

"Like what?"

"Nasty things. I know you have it in you. I want know how it feels to be used ... used as your sex toy."

We had never gone beyond a chaste kiss before. I didn't even know that she fancied girls. Rae clearly had something in mind and I knew I was going to find out.

Chapter Two

"That's it ... yes .. now another ... ". Rae was writhing beneath me, my finger firmly ensconced in her bottom. She was lying face down in her bed with her ass raised in the air, tightly gripping the sheets with one hand and the other feverishly working her pussy. I was kneeling next to her with my index finger buried inside her. Her soft, pliable flesh gave way as I pulled her cheeks apart, exposing her brown, crinkly anus. My lust for her got the better of me. I leaned forward and gently circled my implanted finger with the tip of my tongue, leaving a generous trail of saliva. As her thighs quivered she panted, "Oh God Elaine. This is so dirty ... so delicious."

I took another digit and wiggled it next to my index finger, feeling her anus stretch to accommodate a new invader. As I pushed in further and began pumping two fingers in and out of her asshole I leaned forward and snaked my tongue inside her asshole, stretching my fingers apart to create a gape. I relished the feeling of the tip of my tongue tracing inside the smooth walls of her back channel and then the thrill of my tongue and fingers being squeezed as her anal ring spasmed, clenching and unclenching as another orgasm washed over her. She was rubbing her face into the sweat soaked sheets moaning and babbling incoherently as her knees gave way and she lay splayed on the bed, thoroughly wrung out.

I let her catch her breath and then tugged on her so she was now on her back, her breasts sagging slightly to the side and her cunt glistening with the evidence of her arousal. Her eyes were glassy and her hair was matted with her own sweat.

"Rae ... Rae ... are you with me?"

She nodded her head weakly, smiling.

"Are you my sex toy?"

She nodded again, broadening her smile.

I straddled her face with my knees and lowered my sopping wet slit onto her face, gyrating my hips to smear my juices over her lips and nose. It felt glorious to know my slickened cunt was smothering her face and that I was taking full control over her. She stuck her tongue inside me as I rode her face. I starting rocking my hips back and forth, enjoying perhaps too much the feeling of dominating her, which only added to my already overheated arousal.

"Don't stop ... yes ... you wicked cunt ... lick me," I commanded as my muscles tightened, presaging an orgasm. She continued to lick me, bringing me higher and higher until I saw an explosion of stars. I was gyrating on her face, pinching my nipples as the sheer depravity of our actions dawned upon me. This was my calling. I enjoyed this more than anything I had done in my life. The transfer of control. The complete trust between the two of us. The heightened sexual pleasure. It all resonated to my core.

That single incident defined my life to date. I lived for those moments of exquisite pleasure that can only be attained by the arts of BDSM. Nothing else would do. My change in focus that summer allowed me to pursue the pleasures of making love to a woman.

I spent the rest of that summer with Rae, and at that time was madly in love with her. It was my summer before college affair that made me realize that although sex with a man is good, sex with a woman can be fucking amazing. I made my voyage of discovery with Rae, quickly revolving around the symbiotic relationship between pain and pleasure. It was clear to the two of us that Rae was naturally submissive, and that the porn she watched lit a bonfire within her. As we went from the first coupling forward, Rae wanted to submit to me in any way I could think of. We ended up watching endless hours of porn together, learning what aroused us and what to avoid. In the process of exploration I got to know every nook and cranny of Rae's young, voluptuous body and she likewise got to know mine. That first love will always occupy a special place in my heart, as Rae turned out to be one of the most compliant, sexy subs I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.

But alas, summer romances are just that, lasting the whole summer but then the two of us went our separate ways, with me going to a small liberal arts school in western Massachusetts and Rae heeding the call to a college in southern California.

My interest in domination and submission was fully explored in college. I joined a well-known sorority and soon became its leader. I've already taken the time to recount some of the adventures at the sorority [ed. note: Sorority Submission], most of which perfected at least what I thought were the skills of a Domme. I experimented with humiliation, spanking and anal sex with my sorority sisters and a few chosen outsiders. Little did I know that I was only a girl dabbling in a woman's world, and that my experiences to come would cast a whole new light on my perspective on the BDSM lifestyle.

Chapter Three

When I graduated from college with a degree in psychology I knew that it would be an uphill battle finding employment. I was right. I rented a modest apartment near NYU, hoping to find a job in Midtown. It was frustrating, dressing up and attending numerous interviews and piling up the rejection letters on my kitchen table. It was already late Fall and I hadn't gotten a single job offer after almost two months of searching. Not to say I didn't have interest, but most of it was directed to my slender legs and ample bust, and I don't mean from just men. I was not going to fuck my way to a job. I would have rather starved.

One day in early November I was networking with some of my classmates at a local bar when one of them mentioned that she had heard that a women's apparel manufacturer in what was left of the garment district we looking to hire an executive assistant. Since I lived relatively close, I decided to stop by the next day to drop off my resume.

After running a number of errands I took the bus in the late afternoon to a neighborhood I'd never been in. Mostly industrial, with a number of shuttered businesses. It's certainly not a place I'd walk alone on the street at night. The building itself was a nondescript five story structure with a tiny lobby with worn linoleum and a shabby elevator. I looked at the directory for "Lebowski Partners" and saw that they were located on the fourth floor. I stepped into the elevator, with its worn wood grain laminate floor and intermittent fluorescent lighting, and pushed the rounded black"4" button on the heavily marred stainless steel panel. The elevator door groaned as it slowly shut, taking me on a slow journey to the fourth floor. The door opened into a wood plank hallway with a single door at the hallway's end. The frosted glass panel said "Lebowski Partners - Gateway to the Fashion Industry."

Nothing could have been further from the truth. I walked into the reception area to see a reception area consisting of a card table and folding chairs. There was no one manning the area so I ventured past it into a vast open work area where dozens of rolling racks of women's dresses dotted the space, with workers, mostly women, performing hand alterations at modest work stations equipped with sewing machines, apparently to ready the dresses for the market. There was a large window wall at the end of the floor with many of the cantilevered windows cranked open to let in fresh air. Industrial fans were working at top speed to circulate the fresh air into the stuffy interior.

As I was surveying this somewhat grim scene a middle aged man approached me. Thankfully he didn't stare at my breasts but actually extended his hand to me and made eye contact.

"You must be Elaine Harris. Don Van Arden."

I shook his hand. He had a firm, but not overbearing handshake. "Pleased to meet you."

We started walking, presumably to his office. As I was walking next to him he started talking. "So you're here about the administrative position. You'll work mostly with me and help with whatever needs attention. I manage this business, reporting to Mr. Lebowski. We supply a lot of the higher end dresses to the larger department stores and handle most of their repairs and alterations. We also have our own house brand that we market to some of the suburban dress shops."

He ushered me into an interior office that had a wooden half wall with glass panes above so that the person sitting at the desk could survey the work space without getting up. The desk was piled high with papers.

"Please excuse the mess. My last assistant, Megan, left me a few weeks ago and I haven't been able to address the backlog of filing. If you join us I think that's going to be one of your first tasks. I'm paying $20 an hour to start, with benefits, with the opportunity to move up to a managerial position. Unfortunately Megan was about to be promoted when she decided to take a job with some investment guy named Skeet Anderson." He sat at his desk and scanned the resume I gave him.

" ... good school ... majored in psychology ... but no prior work experience?" He peered over the resume he was holding.

"Nothing but summer jobs, but I'm a quick learner and a hard worker."

"Let me check the references you listed on your resume and I'll get back to you."

He escorted me back to the elevator and gave me a polite handshake. I wasn't sure about working there but at least I had a positive impression of Mr. Van Arden.

Two days later I received a phone call in the morning from Mr. Van Arden. "You had glowing references. Can you start tomorrow?"

I still didn't have any solid prospects and the rent was due in two weeks. "Yes sir. Would 8 a.m. be early enough."

"Perfect." He terminated the call.

I stared at my phone wondering exactly what I had signed up for.

I called my mother that night and told her about my new job. She was excited for me, but told me that it was a pretty sketchy neighborhood, as if I hadn't figured it out for myself. "Dress to impress," she told me. Even though it may have been good advice I couldn't shed my adolescent façade, replying, "Yeah, whatever." My Mom was annoyed. Mission accomplished.

The next morning my Mom's advice did stick with me. I picked out my nicest blouse, a skirt cut just above the knee and three inch black pumps. I've since cut my hair shorter, but at that time I had hair well past my shoulders with a soft curl. I was a natural strawberry blonde with a slender build and "C" cup breasts. The outfit accentuated my curves and the heels made my calves look just right.

It was cold outside so I donned a wool winter coat that covered most of my legs. Outside with the throng of people it just seemed nicer outside knowing that I had a job to go to. I got on a crowded crosstown bus and was dropped off a block from my new office. It was 7:55 a.m. so I going to be right on time. As I was walking to the elevator I saw on the directory that the fifth floor was for "Club Services." There was an asterisk next to the listing and at the bottom of the directory it said "use telephone next to elevator to gain admittance." I thought that was curious.

I went up the creaky elevator and walked into my new office. Don was there to greet me.

"Wow, you're all dressed up." He did manage to control his eyes, although I could see that he had quickly scanned me up and down. "Let me find Jennifer. She's my floor supervisor and can show you the ropes. Wait here."

He dashed off, leaving me standing in the middle of the work room. There was already the whir of machines as seamstresses were already busy with alterations. The room was decidedly cooler than my last visit in the late afternoon. I was watching the women work when a petite brunette in jeans and a t-shirt greeted me.

"So you're the new girl that's taking Megan's place."

"I guess that's right."

"You're going to have to lose the fancy clothes. You're just going to get them dirty here. Super casual is just fine. Don doesn't mind unless your tits are hanging out or your ass cheeks are showing." She gave me a warm smile. I liked her instantly.

"Thanks for the advice. My Mom said 'Dress to impress.'"

"Since when do you listen to your mother?"

This woman got me. Now I really liked her. "I don't, but for some inexplicable reason I do."

"Yeah, I do the same thing. I pretty much blow my mother off but sometimes she gets into your head."

"Exactly."

Jennifer gave me a stack of forms to fill out and then showed me the backlog of filing. It took me the entire rest of the day to clean off Don's desk.

It didn't take long for me to adjust to my new job. I resurrected my collection of college clothes and went out and bought some nicer blouses and pants for a change of pace, but no skirts or heels for this girl. Jennifer and Don gave me the full list of Megan's tasks and I quickly developed a healthy appreciation for Megan's role in the operation. I also went out to lunch with Jennifer every day and soon learned what she was willing to share with me, and I gave her a sanitized version of my life story (I left out the juvenile hall stint and my sexual deviations and preferences).