Vanilla Camilla

'Oh shush, you're so vanilla.' her friend said.

It didn't help that the statement was true, she was rather vanilla. Her portfolio of two boyfriends didn't entitle her to boast sexual worldliness, and her claim to it was lessened somewhat by the fact that they had both been more vanilla than she was.

'I am not! Thank you very much.' she said in what she hoped was a tone of womanly authority. It was ruined slightly by the blush that rose to her cheeks when she realised that even her name rhymed with vanilla. Poor old Vanilla Camilla.

Cursing her parents and their ridiculous choice in names she leant forward and swatted at her friend who was laughing.

The object of their discussion was a book, a smutty book at that. She'd asked to borrow it and now she was receiving mild abuse because of it.

The book was on everyone's lips, and seeking to broaden her horizons she had finally got her hands on a copy.

It turned out to be a huge waste of time, for the book, thinly disguised as a period drama with a vague air of BDSM undertones contained about as much smut as a weekend at a nunnery.

She may have been inexperienced, but she knew enough to know that the pinnacle moment in the conveniently present dungeon, left a lot to be desired. She was no connoisseur on dirty novels, but in her point of view, people really ought to say what they meant.

Her own sexual experience had contained far too much of the 'He grazed her calf, as sweet as the leg of an angel' and not enough of the action she was practically gagging for.

What she needed was a teacher, and she had a vague idea on where to get one.

The only true pieces of interest in the book had been the mild restraint and the sadly unconvincing domination of the poor innocent girl. She considered herself for the part of 'poor innocent girl' and found herself perfect for it. Despite her claims at being a fully fledged lady of the world, she was rather lacking in that respect and if she was to have a teacher, then it had best be a good one.

She did more research over the following weeks and tried to get a firmer grip on what a D/s relationship was all about. What she read scared her as much as intrigued her.

It was true that she wanted to learn, to experience some more of the pleasures in life, but she was worried about getting herself mixed up in events that she couldn't cope with. She was about to step into a world she knew nothing about and the rabbit hole would no doubt go all the way down.

It was all very well to get herself mixed up in this BDSM business, but what she really needed to know more of was the very act itself - sex. She didn't want to jump into the deep end without first testing the water. At the same time, a dominant, she had come to find, was really another word for a teacher, and if she had to toss herself in to find one, she'd best just take a breath and do it.

She'd cut her hair short to make herself appear more mature. It was black as jet with a blue facet if caught in the right light and followed her chin in a bob-cut. Despite what they said about glasses making you appear more worldly, she'd acquired some contacts for the occasion because her spectacles only accomplished making her appear bookish and shy.

Despite her preparations, she'd been looking at herself in the rear-view mirror of her car for half an hour. At first she'd been scoping out the venue for this so called 'Munch', but now she feared she was merely stalling. She'd been thankful that the details for it had contained a dress code as otherwise she'd have been clueless as to what to wear. It was all very normal though, which at least meant there were going to be no gimp masks, for no matter how much she learnt, she didn't think she'd ever get used to that.

When she could delay no more she approached the building and taking a deep breath, pushed open the door.

'Down the rabbit hole I go' she mused as she entered, and then waited in suspense as the door swung open.

It was . . . normal, almost like walking into an average pub. But as she introduced herself to the host and hurriedly hid herself near the bar, she began to notice odd things that gave it away. The dress code had been smart/casual, but there was something that set it apart from other gatherings. The distinct smattering of kitty collars throughout the crowd and the childlike dress among the suits, the calf-high boots not quite hidden by that lady's long skirt there and the black gloves in the belt of that man there.

Then there was the presence of the power levels in the group. You could clearly see the deference of one to another, the obvious bond between couples. And finally there was the energy, a tension in the room that was almost popping the windows out of their frames.

The effect as a whole was telling on her, she was very aware that her top lip was sweating and the white wine she had ordered, and gulped thirstily when it came had flushed her face.

She practically wet herself when a voice whispered in her ear 'Are you trying to hide back here?'.

He was a young man of about twenty or so called Scott, who, grasping she was new to the scene had taken it upon himself to educate her. She'd been introduced to several people who had all be welcoming and she'd mingled with the groups of her new found acquaintances. But Scott was a constant.

He'd flit off here and there to talk to other people, but would then be back by her arm as if he'd never been away. At first he had been a boon, but his attentions were becoming uncomfortable.

He had managed to corner her near the bar where he'd first found her. He had a presence that was not so much dominant as arrogant. He gave the impression you often got from guys in clubs, the ones there every week who swooped in on drunken girls like a scavenging beast trailing the weaker animals of a pack.

He'd been pressing drinks (and it had to be said, himself) on her all night, testing her with what she assumed was meant to be a commanding voice and dipping out, changing the subject or making a joke to cover himself when he thought she might rebuff him. He was not the teacher she had in mind and was beginning to grate on her when a saviour arrived.

'Is he bothering you?' a voice cut across Scott's latest attempt to harness her 'of course he is.'

The speaker was a woman around mid thirties. She was shorter than Camilla, the curvy body of a mature woman, thick waisted with her face framed in waves of burnished copper red.

Her voice was deep and lusty, and when adopting a dominant edge, made Scott look like the little boy he undoubtably was.

'I know you, Scott.' said her paragon in venomous scorn 'always at the new ones, I hear you have a room here again tonight, do we need to wonder why? Go on, go'.'

He retreated readily, fleeing like a whipped dog as she laughed and thanked this redheaded alley cat.

She turned out to be called Alice, and was well known in the community. She could see why, she exuded sensualness and control. Here was what she had been looking for, well, almost. She had a substantial amount more up top and less downstairs than she had set out to find, but thankful to be rid of Scott's cloying aftershave and wandering hands and willing to write the night off as a fiasco, she was happy to share a bottle of wine with someone who might be able to tell her something, anything to make the night not a complete waste.

'He's a peacock my love.' said Alice 'they strut around the community, all show but not much else.'

'You practically shout out that you're new to the scene, so you'd best get used to the likes of him. There's more than one of them who'd like to take advantage of that.'

'Finally someone to teach me a thing or two.' she thought to herself and when twenty minutes later she found that Alice had someone how drawn out the entire story of her first adventure up until then, she knew she was dealing with someone with whom she was totally out of her depth.

The gathering had mostly finished and drawing her close, Alice told her to follow.

'Where are we going?' She asked as she was lead to some smaller nooks and finally to some stairs.

'The party usually breaks to smaller ones now, come and sit with some friends of mine and no one will bother you.' Was the reply.

When they reached the end of a dim corridor and she was ushered into a room, she froze.

It was a bedroom, lit only by a bedside table lamp. There were no 'friends' lurking in the dark and their absence made her heart thumb.

Turning back, Alice was flat against the door, there was a wicked smile about her full lips and fire playing in her eyes where the light caught them and they seemed as red as the hair that played about her shoulders.

'Peacocks aren't the only thing you need to fear little girl, there are tigers in these woods.' Alice teased, but there was a thrilling depth to her voice that made Camilla's hair stand up.

She felt foolish, she was a stupid little girl to have been taken in by such a flimsy ruse and not for the first time that evening, heat blossomed through her cheeks. Stupid little Vanilla Camilla. She even looked like a little girl in her pink shirt and short mini skirt whereas this fully grown woman looked classy and in control.

The so called tigress was stalking towards her, hips rolling with each step and Camilla found her throat constrict and her stomach fall away. This wasn't a rabbit hole, it was the Tiger's den.

She was looking down into those gleeful eyes, but she didn't feel like the one who was in charge, despite the height difference. She was very aware that the exit to the door became smaller as this woman came closer but she couldn't move. They were so close now that she could almost taste the woman on the air.

'I bet you taste like cinnamon.' someone said, and she was shocked to realise it was her.

'And what do you taste like, candy floss?' Came a quick reply.

'No-o.' she stuttered, her breath now in dangerously short supply '...vanilla.'

'Mm, we'll see.' Alice giggled. A hand reached for the hem of her dress and finally Camilla acted, flattening herself up against the chest of drawers.

'No? Do you not find me attractive?' Was the reply to her actions, more affronted than offended.

'It's not that . . . It's just. . . ' what it was she couldn't say, for her head was filled with the heady smell of the woman.

'It's just that you want a cock right? I'll tell you, that what you want is not what you need. What you want is someone to show you what you want, or rather what you need. I can do that.'

She was so close now and Camilla found herself closing her eyes as their mouths met and instead of thinking, concentrated on the kiss. Those big pink lips were softer than a mans and her tongue tasted like the wine they'd drunk. Alice's hand was once again at her skirt and before the older woman broke the kiss, the fingers were running the length of the small white undies she'd worn. Alice took a step back to free the retreat, and looked at her with those pretty eyes.

'Of course, you can go.' she whispered huskily, a slight note of amusement in her voice as she held her fingers to the lamplight so that the faint wetness glinted 'if you wanted?'

Her silence was taken as an assent to what was about to happen, for Alice had already gone down on her knees. Camilla found herself pushed back against the drawers as her legs were opened. The light lipstick on Alice's lips was smeared across the simple cotton underwear as she was kissed through them, before long they were pulled roughly to the side, the elastic popping with the force and the seat tearing into her bum cheeks.

Alice with the unerring sense of direction that only a woman going down on another woman had, found her clit within seconds, her tongue first pushing deep within before running up to the soft little nub and taking it lightly between her teeth, teasing. Camilla was taking no notice of such playfulness for she already had her eyes clamped shut, a low whine coming out as she gripped the wooden chest beneath her, nails scoring varnish from the surface.

As pleasurable as it was, it was soon gone and the redheaded beauty with it. Alice had stood and wandered further into the room, drawing the curtains open as she went before pouring herself another glass of wine. When she'd taken a sip she returned to pull the uncertain Camilla further into the room, then into an embrace.

She could taste herself mingling with the wine on those lips and the experience, while unexpected, was the hottest thing she'd done or had done to her.

'Now, take your clothes off.'

The lack of air seemed to be plaguing her still and to cover for it she glanced nervously to the big windows, black with night.

Alice glanced there too, then back, and understanding the look said

'Are you worried people will watch? I wouldn't, someone is going to watch, me.' before taking another sip.

'Watching you undress will be merely a warm up though, watching us fuck will be the main event. Now. Take your clothes off.'

At a loss, and perhaps for the first time understanding what really attracted people to this life of being told what you'll do and when you'll do it, she turned and began to undo her shirt.

When she'd finished, she took one more look at her reflection in the black glass before letting it drop, then she slipped her skirt off.

She turned back to Alice, hugging her chest to cover her plain white bra and small breasts, thankful that at least her undergarments matched, but not sure that it made her feel any better about her lack of clothes.

'Mh!' Was the only reply to her idea of undressing, and putting the glass down so that it clattered, the tigress approached.

Camilla was thrust back to sit on the bed and with the other hand Alice hitched up her skirt to reveal a tiny thatch of red curls and Camilla, knowing what was expected of her, leant in. Her pussy didn't taste like cinnamon but it still surprisingly tasted sweet, the angle for such an act was wrong but was made easier when Alice got up on all fours upon the mattress and looked back expectantly.

Committed, Camilla also got to her knees, and pushing the skirt up over the creamy skin, continued. It didn't take long before she got a rhythm going, between flitting her tongue against the pink folds and spreading them so that she could clamp her lips round the clit when it appeared, she pushed in a finger to bear down on the hard nub of the g-spot, pressing it against the underside of the pelvic bone.

Her administration while inept, seemed to be bearing fruit for Alice groaned out loud then buried her face in the quilting.

Unexpectedly, a hand shot back to twist in Camilla's hair, she couldn't see, but Alice growled the words

'Now my arse, eat my arse.'

She'd never eaten pussy before, let alone that. But the fingers in her hair weren't asking for consent, they pulled her forwards until she had no choice but to take a breath and stick her tongue deep in the tight little hole.

It was her turn again before long for Alice's hands were stripping off her bra, tugging her further up onto the mattress and then massaging her tiny boobs when they were free.

Camilla had always been ashamed of their size, but perhaps because Alice too was a woman, or perhaps because she was driven by some primal lust, didn't seem to care; sucking them greedily into her mouth so that what was left of her lipstick glittered on them.

Hands stripped away the rest of what she was wearing, and Alice, parting her legs, entwined her own with them. When she took the back Camilla's neck in her hand and pulled her up so their faces were an inch apart, she felt her pussy fit smoothly against the other. She again found herself rhythmless, but Alice set the motion, rocking together faster and faster until they came together, and Camilla's thighs were suddenly wet with cum.

The events so far had been a little bit scary for a shy girl like her, but it wasn't over. She forever seemed to be being tugged into position or else told to get in one. She hadn't even caught her breath before she was pressed between those white thighs and told to clean up. It seemed only to have been a ploy, for the clawing nails across her shoulders and in her hair urged her to the more pressing concern, eating pussy as fast as she could. In between grabbing her hair, Alice stripped her clothes away so that when Camilla looked upwards, she could see lightly freckled breasts heaving. There was no denying it was a sexy sight, and she couldn't help but slip and hand between her own legs and began to rub herself as quickly as she could, even thrusting as many fingers as she could inside herself when Alice signalled her approaching orgasm by grabbing a handful of Camilla's hair and grinding her face down into that patch of coppery curls.

*

Camilla opened a bleary eye and wondered how much wine she'd drunk to make her head pound so.

Her mouth was dry and her lips sore.

She sat straight up in bed, and one look to the left made all the memories come back. She was shocked at herself, and a little uncomfortable with the situation. She wasn't sure what to make of the scenario and her head was all over the place. Deciding that it was something best thought about in the privacy of her own home, she slipped from the sheets and began to hastily pull her clothes on.

Last night she'd fucked a woman. It wasn't what she'd expected when she set out, but it had still filled her prime objective; not necessarily to learn more about domination, but it had certainly opened her mind more about sex.

Pulling her shirt on she glanced quickly at the sun streaming in through the French Windows. Her face was hot as more of last nights events came back to her. She couldn't find her underwear, and worried that her search was making noise she looked at the bed to Alice's sprawled form and saw two pale tigers eyes starring back.

The beautiful redhead (and she was beautiful Camilla admitted, her stomach fluttering) was propped up on one arm watching her. Curled in her fingers were her white cotton knickers.

'Looking for these?' She said, before adding 'they're mine now. Now go on, I need more sleep.'

Bobbing her head to hide her burning cheeks, she tore from the room, embarrassed but already again feeling a stirring between her legs.