AWO16. – Turbulence
Carol was crying.
To Anne it was a sight so upsetting that she felt her whole world rocked... and left her trembling all over. It was a completely new situation; possibly the confirmation of some of her worst fears. She found it hard to even imagine that it shouldn't have something to do with her relationship with Jean. The way their differences deepened it was almost bound to break out in open conflict at some point. Anne had witnessed it with deep concern, and had no idea what to do about it. The very idea that the two of them – her most beloved mistresses – would drift apart in enmity and possibly even hatred to each other was just too much to bear. It would be like seeing her parents split up. No... perhaps much worse!
She had grown so used to having the two of them around; two raving beacons - two powerful, passionate and voracious forces in her wonderful life; setting things right with their natural authority, and supporting and encouraging her in her efforts to improve skills and mental aptitudes as a person as well as a service girl. And now that guiding force suddenly looked like it would break down. Or at least change substantially, never to be the same again; right before her very eyes.
How on earth would she be able to live with something like that?
It all started like so many times before. Jean was out of office, and Carol had been spending an hour or so in the demonstration lounge hosting a session with a very promising client, using Sandra as the service girl. The little blonde had shown remarkable progress in the deep-penetration training, and was already making great impressions with her regular clients, although her skills still didn't get even close to those of Anne. Even though Jean had encouraged the use of younger trainees in such demonstrations, Carol preferred the predictability of the more experienced girls.
As usual the action had created a substantial itch in her ever-needy pussy, and she went out to find Anne for a quickie to calm her nerves before the next appointments. She found her in the back- end bathroom, showering and cleaning up after an overnight visit to one of the latest clients.
They didn't even take time to fall into each other's arms before Carol was down on the bed with the skirt around her waist, spreading widely for that sensational mouth, the one and only - capable of sucking her off to a violent orgasm within minutes, no matter what, where or when. She took her pleasure with a frustrated impatience that even surprised Anne... with a stiffness and tension about her that was so different from her usual cat- like softness; the softness that Anne enjoyed so much.
Only at the moment of ecstasy did she become her old self for a moment, cumming sharp and well- defined, holding Anne's head like a vice and twisting brazenly about all over the sheets as she lived through the sensational bliss with elated senses.
It was when Carol finally rose back up and wiped her forehead with a crumpled handkerchief that Anne really noticed the difference. Sitting up like that, she suddenly kind of sank together, letting her hair spill down to cover her face. Then her shoulders started shaking, first almost inconspicuously, then more distinctly until a stunned Anne realized that she was really
crying
. Anne had been in the usual state of bliss which always swept her after a session with one of her favourite mistresses, half lying on the floor in front of the bed, enjoying the unparalleled taste of lady orgasm on her lips. But now she was yanked back to reality with such shocking force that she felt as if she was run down by a twenty-wagon freight train.
She had always seen Jean and Carol almost like goddesses, high up on their pedestals, looking down at their empires of mortal people like herself with a condescension bordering to arrogance - an arrogance they could afford because of their monumental personalities. It was as natural a part of them as the expensive suits they wore. And even though she knew it wasn't quite so, Anne had adjusted her metal image of the two mistresses in that they were assertive enough to take anything – really
anything
- without problems. Just like that; showing even in real life the personal strength and power that she felt so intensely on the emotional level. Like a slave to her mistress.
Now, the wonderful lady looked thoroughly debunked, almost like a lost child; naked in a way. Shockingly stripped of all of the things that made her supreme and illustrious... almost down to someone asking for her pity.
An impossible notion! She could worship her, crawl at her feet, kiss the tip of her shoes and beg to be allowed to drink her very liquid orgasms. But she couldn't feel pity for her. No darn way! That would cause her something like a full mental meltdown; the total demolition of her newfound life perceptions, the world that Carol and Jean had opened up to her. The mere thought was enough to fill her heart with despair.
But now she was here, sitting right in front of Anne - sunk together with her face hidden behind the rich cascade of almost black hair.
Crying like a baby
! And Anne just had to face it – had to deal with it - one way or the other. There was no way around it. But how could she handle it? How to handle something as outrageous as
this
?
Anne picked up one of her convenience napkins with a shaking hand and hurriedly wiped her own face. Then she reluctantly leaned over to carefully put her arm around her mistress' shoulder. Even though it was not totally unexpected, she jumped as the woman slipped over to rest her head against her neck. Her shoulders shook as she let herself completely loose and literarily cried her heart out. Anne held her tight for a long while as all kinds of emotions rushed through her. From extreme disappointment, to rage against Jean, and then everything form existential panic to irrational desires to protest against the entire world.
To Anne's relief, the time it took for Carol to calm down was apparently well worth it. All of a sudden she seemed to come around and lift her head off of Anne's shoulder. Using her hand to sweep her full hair over her head and back to her neck, she gratefully accepted one of Anne's napkins to clean up a bit and blow her nose. Like a little child...
"Thanks Anne... You're an angel." Again a loud sniffle, and a few blinks of the eyelashes to clear her vision. Then a meek smile; "What on earth would I do without you?"
Anne heard this all the time, but she knew that for once it meant more than just an empty saying. All of a sudden she was needed for comforting on an entirely different level. And she was deeply involved in the conflict between Carol and Jean almost before she actually knew what hit her. As she moved closer and kissed the woman's damp cheek she realized that there was no way she would be able to continue her balance between the two women, those energetic poles of overpowering magnetism.
Feeling desolate, the woman continued to pour her heart out; verbally now; all those things about Jean. How they started out as the best of friends. How she noticed that thing she thought of as some kind of jealousy, although quite inconspicuous in the beginning. And how everything escalated into what ended in this more or less open conflict from the very moment Anne entered the scene. Up until now Carol had felt confident about getting to some kind of terms with Jean – no matter how difficult - finding a set of unspoken rules that they could move according to, and then build some kind of mutual trust from there. But during these last few weeks the truth had slowly crept in on her. Not only was it clear to her that things would never improve from Jean's side, but she gradually became aware of her own feelings towards Jean too. She hated her! Straight up! At least that was how she felt about it.
Anne listened quietly, getting more and more upset by the minute. How could a wonderful woman like her very own Jean – her eternal mistress and goddess – be like this? And, even worse, could it be true what Carol told her, now matter how indirect, that it was because of her? More or less all because of her? First of all because she entered the scene and kind of ripped the picture of summer breeze- idyll? Not that she felt she was blamed in any way; on the contrary, she felt with every last nerve of her body that Carol had loved her from the first moment she saw her. And not because of her special skills only. She had assured her a million times, but it was first of all the gut feeling that told Anne that she was honest about it.
"Carol, dear... I know what you need. Why don't you just report sick today, and we go to your house. There you can relax, and we can talk it over more freely than down here. What do you say?"
Carol looked at her with those huge, wet eyes, again looking more like a helpless child than the authoritative mistress she had learned to know and to love. She had, somehow, put herself onto a 'level' that all of a sudden felt almost equal to that of Anne herself. Kind of stepped down among those normal, highly mortal people that Anne considered herself a part of. Even in a dream world like this. Of course it was all just an emotional thing – and had always been - but Anne felt the change in every nerve of her body; like it was a significant –a really major – change in her life; the first time she felt more or less equal to a superior mistress!
So they left, together, leaving a message with Alison at the front desk that Carol felt unwell. Anne went to stay with her the whole day, and even the whole night afterwards, doing her best to nurse her back to her old self again. The need certainly was on the mental level this time - no doubt about that - even though her physical needs were taken care of as well, of course. And as always with a quality and enthusiasm beyond anything that could be expected from any 'normal' service girl.
As Carol made a huge pot of tea, she continued to lay out her feelings to Anne. From what she heard, it was clear to the girl that she was definitely to be blamed herself – at least partly; or... maybe not. Actually she had done exactly what was expected of her. Just that she was too enthusiastic about it! Her keen hunger for pussy in general, and her immediate lust for Carol's voluptuous body especially, made it very easy – exceptionally easy – to follow the program with full focus, devouring the lady with insatiable hunger and drinking her bursting orgasms with blissful abandon. Nobody could expect her to know and understand the edge between the two women; that ominous edge that sharpened drastically as Anne entered the scene with her infamous skills and spellbinding submissive temperament. On the contrary; Anne expected things to be better as she harnessed her skills and dove headlong into submissive audacity. Without seeing, observing or knowing anything else around her, except the delight of the unparalleled match between desire and duty. Yet, the fact that Carol was special from the very first moment she saw her, never sounded the alarm bells with her. Not even when she got to notice the tension between them. She was slightly worried about it, sure enough, but never thought that it had anything to do with her.
And this was exactly what she told Carol between generous mouthfuls of leaking pussy juice as they had calmed down a bit and got down to discuss the matters properly. Probably the most extraordinary serious discussion Anne had ever had. Amazingly, the lady was able to enjoy the girl's expert oral service even in a situation like this; The only difference being that her mind seemed to drift off every now and then, making her loose focus on her partner's expert titillations at times; until Anne would bring her back to attention with some powerful flicks or a full penetration of her amazing tongue.
